A wedding picture

Just because, dammit.

Best day of my life.

I find it so damn hard sometimes, but it is really important to focus on those happy memories, those wonderful moments in time, memories, things that make life worth living.

The things that are easily forgotten, but can pick you up and put a smile on your face.

This day (the whole day, except for the bitchy officiant) was one of those days. ALL DAY. Listened to our song today and cried happy tears.

Take a minute and think of a moment that makes you grin like a fool.

Tell me about it in the comments.

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LIFE = FAIL

Have you ever woken up on a Tuesday morning, made a few phone calls, stopped for a moment... and realized you're a complete f_cking failure?

No?

Just me?

Exact moment of realization.

Fair enough. Carry on.


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True Test of Marriage

Try moving a dog-drool covered couch out of the basement, between three doorways within two feet of each other, with an injured thumb.

How the hell did it get there in the first place?

THAT, my friends, takes real love. (You know, since I don't have patience.)


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Did You Hear? Apparently I'm Rich...

I know I wow you all with stories of dog doo, my exploits of staying awake past 11pm, and my fear of Walmart employees smoking beside the propane machine, but I have news for you.

Apparently, I am LOADED.

And not loaded off of Skinny Girl Sangria. No, my dear friends, not THAT good kind of loaded.

I mean, I clearly must make huge bank. Be rolling in dough. I think I should be wiping my butt with twoonies. Hell, twenties.

Why, you ask?

Because I can afford THIS:

My sexy thumb, for scale. And I think that is mothereffing barley which has gluten.

What's that you say?

"What's the big deal?"

Well... in my foolish attempt to secure a low-cost meal option at the grocery store, I decided to get the medium size of bean salad. Thinking it was sold by the size (like the horrendous greasy potato wedges I ALSO ate), I picked the middle of the road.

AND WAS HORRIFIED when I saw the label right before I was rung through the cash.

BEANS ARE HEAVY.

I am sure your bowels can agree with me on this one. So when sold by the weight...
 

What, is there Grey Poupon in there or something? WTF?

Seriously? REALLY? For bean salad (with or without a fancy name label)? SERIOUSLY? 

F_ck.


All I could think of was this:




Talk about brilliant marketing. Add some vinegar, olive oil, and salad counter leftovers, and mark the price up TEN TIMES. I assumed once it was scooped and labelled it was mine, so I didn't ask her to put it back.

I even had all the f_cking ingredients at home.You know, except for the effort part.

So don't hate.

Also? Don't order the large unless you are having Cristal champagne and having your driver take you home in your Rolls Royce/Hummer limousine hybrid.

Seriously.

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Remember when I said I was at the library...?

Yeah... so... I took the puppy (who really isn't a puppy any longer) on a walk today, despite my foot pain and better judgement.

I've been switching them over to new food to help prevent the already-into-the-thousands vet and food bills we had from January and February combined. This new fancy-pants "Blue" sensitive stomach food contains only turkey and potato, so hopefully no bad reactions.

Well, the switchover is resulting in soft just-try-and-clean-me-up poops.

(I know, I know, this blog revolves far too much around dog poop, dog poop consistency, and all things dog poop related).

Anyway, DVDs in hand to return to the library (what, you thought I checked out books at the library?? Good one!), Ella the dog decides to take a huge liqui-poo on the boulevard.

Oh. HAI.

I grab one of my THREE poop bags (you never know, I swear she stores them up for her walks) and try to clean it up. I failed miserably.

I may or may not have gotten poo on my left hand. There may or may not be a touch of dog poo in the top corner of the DVD case that went back to the library. I may or may not have tried to clean it out with a dead husk of something in the grassed area that leads to the library drop boxes. I may or may not have succeeded in getting it all.

You may want to wash your hands a lot if you check something out from the library because you just NEVER know...

Hey, be glad I spared you poop pictures this round!

 P.S. If you want to read my product review of Burt's Bees Sensitive Skin Care Cleanser and Daily Moisturizer, it's right here. If you'd rather leave me a comment about dog poo, that's cool, too.
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Trifecta - Lost

I found a fabulous new blogger who I have added to my blogroll (Amelia), who introduced me to Trifecta, a writing challenge for the weekend.

"This weekend's challenge is to write a story entitled 'Lost' in exactly 33 words. The word 'lost' can only appear in the title, not your 33 words."

LOST.

The course of the girl's life, forever changed.
Trusting, foolishly.
Making regrettable choices.
Someone else's viciousness
Cannot take her self worth, intelligence.
Destroyed before starting.
Never forgotten. Never forgiving.
Often scared.
Forever scarred.





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Funny channel on YouTube

Okay, so as I was trolling around reading as much as I could about KORNY2012 / KONY2012, I somehow stumbled upon this set of videos on YouTube.

[EDIT: I had no idea that Ellen already discovered this AND used one of the ones I posted here, dammit!! I clicked on the one of her name pronounciation just now Mar. 15/12, and saw the clip from her show. I will prefer, instead, to claim she retroactively copied my content. Okay, not really.]

I didn't realize they were posted by different owners at first.



You know, reasonable.

_

Then I found these.









I bet the original "pronunciationbook" is über-pissed at "PronunciationManual". I pity the poor person learning the English language who may not realize they ARE different.


Man, I needed that laugh.


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Top 10 Ways to Live On The Motherfracking Edge...

The top 10 ways to live on the edge:

1. Try driving through the public library parking lot on the first day of March break. Holymotherofgawd, children, watch where the hell you are walking!
2. Stay up past 11pm, knowing full well your dogs will wake you 3 individual times at the crack of dawn due to newly formed separation anxiety (for your husband, and not you).
3. Drink on a week night. (After the age of 30).
4. Play Russian roulette with the 8 valid and 2 expired condoms in your bedside drawer, while in the dark.
5. Hell, have sex in general.
6. Be the envy of all your single friends when all conversations lead back to your two dogs. No matter the topic of conversation. Always dogs. ALWAYS DOGS. (Refer to #2).
7. Put sheet glass out for bulk garbage pick up day, THE NIGHT BEFORE, giving the proverbial finger to all the teenage ne'er-do-wells that you know convene and wander your street.
8. Attempt hot yoga without a towel, using only an acrylic sweater for sweat absorption.
9. Ever attempt to do a shot of tequila (after the age of 19).
10. Wait until February 29, 2012 to contribute to your RRSP.

Wow. I'm shaking just from writing that.

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Skinny Girl Sangria

What's a girl to do when her foot might be the source of death for her?

Foot fetishists will be sorely disappointed. Also? Jesusf_ckingmotherofgod please stop bleeding, foot.

Drink.

So I tried Skinny Girl Sangria for the first time tonight. No, it wasn't free. No, I'm not being paid to review it. I'm just sharing. 'Cause I kind of was suckered by the "skinny girl" part.

I'm drinking it now. My first thought was that it smelled kind of like cow poo... or something else I couldn't place. It feels almost thick like ice wine, but it's only supposed to have 110 calories per 125mL.

For those of you wondering, you don't mix it with anything, you just drink it as if it were a regular pre-made sangria. Which it is. But with a different kind of taste that I can't place.

It tastes reasonable. It has potassium sorbate and no sugar. It looks like thick apple juice. It has floaties in it. OH WAIT - NO, that's just because I re-used a glass that has Great Dane fur in it. My bad.

When I looked at the nutritional info when I was in the liquor store, I had no idea if that was even good, since most wine and other coolers don't print the calories. Or, well, if they do, I am too hammered to ever read the labels. I'd say it's worth trying once to see if you like it. We're not talking about Cristal here.

I'm drinking it, but I'm still overweight. Damn false advertising.

Based on the cost (I think I paid $15 for 750mL), it is decent enough, but I'd rather have red wine at full calories (which has to be comparable, but I am too goddamn lazy to Google that sh*t). Or get that lovely gut rot that comes with more than one Smirnoff Ice vodka cooler.

Okay, the nutritional info on the Skinnygirl website says it has 132 calories and 22.5 grams of carbs per 5 oz.

Also? The more I drink of it, the better it tastes, so don't trust a word I am saying.

It's nice for a change. And nice if you are trying to numb yourself to the realities of life and death.

You know, not to be dramatic.

Has anyone else tried this stuff, and if so, what did you think?



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About.com: An Overview

Directions on how to use About.com:

1. Insert your search phrase.
2. Realize that About.com is shit.
3. Get frustrated differentiating between relevant links and ads.
4. Give up and go back to Google to search ANYTHING BUT About.com.

Occasionally:

1. Wait six months and forget how shitty About.com is.
2. Repeat steps 1 through 4 above.

Said in German accent: "Accom-pleesh nuh-theeng!"

My public service announcement for the day.


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The Lab Puppy Walks The Great Dane

Okay, I admit I was over tired when I recorded this back in July of 2011, but I found it hilarious.

The puppy decided to "take the lead" quite literally, and walk our Great Dane around the living room. And he let her.

Via leather leash.

We had been doing special training, based on "Certified Education Training" (the type Brad Pattinson uses from his show "At The End Of My Leash".) It looked like she was trying to take on the alpha role.




Sorry for the boisterious laughter, I just couldn't believe it went on and that the Dane allowed it. *Facemush* right into the dining room table.

Ah, the joy of sleep deprivation and dogs.

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On the way to the diamond store AKA Cops & your tax dollars at work...

So, in what certainly had nothing to do with the gnawing teeth and bobbing head of a zany puppy for the past year, we took my engagement ring in for it's yearly inspection and cleaning (per their warranty agreement).

Reasonable facsimile-ish.

At said inspection, under the glimmery diamond-shiny pot lighting, at the fancy-pantsy minimalist office space (where I always feel like they are going to launch into an interview and/or interrogation), the man simply hovered his tweezers over one of the side stones in my ring, and that baby wiggled and bobbed much like I did at my bachelorette party.

Wait, not like that. I didn't mean BOBBED like that. I meant, like, stumbled and was all sloppy drunk.

Jeez, you guys and your perverted minds make it really hard to tell a story here. (Stop snickering at "really hard". I mean, seriously? C'mon. Oh stop laughing at the "come" in "come on"! You people are just impossible, really.)

*ahem*
Moving on.

So as the diamondologist/sales guy/Captain Obvious stated, the diamond was loose and it was recommended that we agree to let my baby (the ring, I don't actually have a baby - seriously, dammit, stop it with the sex stuff!) be sent away for repair.

Kind of like Dr. Suess' Grinch. I imagined them "taking it to Santa's workshop" and then never returning it. You know, 'cause if he really returned while hurling himself down a mountain slopeside at high speeds, my luck would result in the ring flying out of the sleigh, right before the avalanche struck.

Okay, what was I talking about again?

What my ring would have looked like with one more solid face-mash from the puppy dog.

Right, so, anyway, ring gets repaired.
My aversion to leaving the house, along with my fear that they wouldn't let me pick up the jewelry without the original buyer with me (aka The New Husband AKA the Former Feyoncé™), TRIPLED with the fact I was worried they would try to charge some crazy fee for repairs, caused me to delay the trip for a few weeks.

So I got over hurtle #1. Made it out of the house, presentable, but with lioness-like hair. Drive my ass all the way in to Mississauga. Pull into the diamond store parking lot... and.. oh f_ck.

TWO COP CARS are parked near the doors.

**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**PANIC**

**SOMEONE.BROKE.INTO.THE.SAFE**SOMEONE.BROKE.INTO.THE.SAFE**SOMEONE.BROKE.INTO.THE.SAFE**

**SHOULD'VE.COME.SOONER**DAMN.YOU.ANXIETY!**

Deep breath.

Walk to doors, see cops walking around inside the store with a sales guy. No large vault doors appeared to be open.

The sales guy seemed pretty calm. Happy, even.

My sensory-threat level of DEFCON BAJILLION began to settle.

After I waited about 15 minutes and was finally reunited with my love fancy ring. There were no problems, no fees, no issue. But then, I realized that the police had been called because of a premature alarm of some sort (Stop it! All I said was premature). But, you know, they got there before me.

AND THEY WERE BROWSING THE MOTHEREFFING STORE. The two of them were wandering about with the sales guy, looking at prototype rings. For at least 15 minutes.

Approximation.

And they were still there when I left. Had I not had the most obvious, loud-snapping-when-taking-a-photo-phone, I would have documented that shit for you. They were clearly ON DUTY and IN FULL UNIFORM, just browsing about the diamond store.

Jeez, guys, at least pretend you are inspecting some alarm shit or something.

And you KNOW one of 'em is gonna try to get a "badge"-influenced discount.

So, there you go. My ring wasn't stolen, but I am pretty sure that part of your tax dollars were if you live in Peel Region. You know, inadvertently.


Then again, I could be all wrong.

But that usually never happens.



Happy Friday.
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