Respect the Beagle! Congratulations to Uno the 15-inch “traditional” (my term) Beagle, Best in Show at Westminster. (I know, I know, they’re like Nazis but still … look at the cute, cute doggies!)
That said – please, please, please, if you’re thinking of adopting a dog, please go no further than petfinder.com. I would not give up either of my non traditional beagles (mutts) for a full blooded anything. If you’re like me, you don’t plan to breed your dog, you don’t plan to show your dog. You want a dog to keep your feet warm, hang out with your kid and clean up messes on the floor. Gene and I got all of that and more when we adopted our two and I just know that just about anyone would have the same luck.
(On a related note: I wish they’d stop showing those sad Pedigree commercials with the homeless dogs. It makes me want to become Elaine the Crazy Dog Lady of Cheesecake City and that is NOT something that can happen).
etc, etc, I am free at last…
So, remember when I wrote that everything Old(Boss) is New(Boss) again?
Well, it’s official. I’m now back to being under Human Resources’ wing. So now I have to really bring my A game to work. Gwendolyn (f/k/a Old Boss f/k/a Old New Boss) checks internet cookies. Yikes. What I am losing in internet screw-off time I’m gaining in actual qualified boss who doesn’t make insane snap decisions like New Boss’s Boss or track my time down to the 5 minute mark like Stefania (f/k/a New Boss).
Harumph. Friggin’ 30 degree day today. (Well, OK, the high was technically 49 but it was 32 when I was walking outside to drop our taxes off at the accountant’s).
So much for my glorious balmy February. Gene’s talking about uprooting us to KANSAS – probably no balmy Julys there, let alone Februarys. (The move thing is another topic for another day, though).
Goin’ to MD Saturday. Yea! Gonna see a baaaaaaaaaby. ::happyenoughdance::
It is February. It is over 60 degrees. Convertible envy came early this year. (mmm, Toyota Solara).
I know I’ll curse this when it’s 80 degrees on Thanksgiving again but right now it’s lovely. I have an entire drawer of sweaters that have remained unworn AGAIN this year.
Seriously, my fellow Northerners. Move here now. I understand why everyone else has.
…and I like to torture myself by going to Petfinder.com.
The whole deal is that Gene and I have a deal – three dogs and no human baby or two dogs and 1 baby. Obviously, we have the 2 dogs part taken care of.
Sometimes, I really want a third dog. I have named her Clementine. Perhaps after the song, perhaps after the tiny little orange fruit, perhaps after the minor character in a book I was re-reading a few months ago.
There are so many beautiful doggies out there in search of a good home. I could go on but I don’t want to bum anyone out. I even saw one that looks like a skinny Betty, if you can imagine a small Betty. And I saw a feminine Scooby – that’s not hard to imagine as Scoob is already fairly delicate.
Speaking of Scooby Doo, he’s fine. He had a pimple-esque sore on his side and everyone said, “Ehh, no big deal.” We took him to the vet, who said, “Ehh, no big deal” (he was due for a vaccination anyway). He added “But if he starts to lick it or otherwise give it extra attention, call us.”
So, Scooby has been licking it (how does he do that??) so we took him back. And Doctor Gomer Pyle (also the same as Doctor Muscley Arms after the creepy old man on Family Guy) once again said, “Ehh, no big deal.” For the record, the return visit was at the explicit request of Gene. I was pretty certain it was Ehh, no big deal. (But then again what if it wasn’t?).
Anyway, a current census:
2 adult humans
1 teenage boy (existing purely in our hearts but located about 2 hours away)
2 spoiled rotten beagles
0 third dogs.
(BTW – up there where it says that I wake my brain up by reading the news, just imagine it says “By watching The Colbert Report and reading DListed”).
Gene has the flu. Doctor Hottie gave him a prescription for Tamiflu. And one for me, too, to take “just in case”.
Oh please. Pleaseplease do not let me get sick like Gene. Seriously. If I get sick like Gene is sick (as in down for the count sick), I suspect we’ll just have to call 911 and live at the hospital. On the bright side, I probably won’t get sick like Gene is sick because a) I have a stronger immune system and b) I’m a woman. We rarely get “man sick”. (Sick of men, yes, but that’s different).
So Gene and I have now seen all of the Best Picture nominees this year with the exception of Atonement (I’m trying – and failing – to finish the book first). Last night we went with our Athiest Friends (it’s 1 couple, not like there’s a club or something) to see There Will Be Blood.
Maybe a month or two ago, Gene and I saw No Country for Old Men. I described it as “The Most Terrifying Two Hours I’ve Ever Spent Watching Paint Dry.”
There Will Be Blood – which is absurdly long at 2.5 hours – is “The Most Boring Two and a half Hours I’ve Ever Spent Watching Paint Dry.” Holy Shit, these movies are like carrot juice or wheat bread. You see the movies because you “should” but frankly I’d rather have spent the money to see Juno again (which rocked – I’m not joking when I say that I may have to see it again). Or even hunted down a theater still showing Best Picture nominee Michael Clayton because, of course, two hours spent looking at George Clooney are not wasted hours.
Anyway, if filmmakers really loved us, they would have just made one movie – There Will Be Old Men or No Country for Old Blood. Yech. They’re both dude movies and I just hate dude movies.
Especially today, as today IS Sunday.
Hilariously, we ended up watching the halftime show (Tom Petty?? Really??) and the second half of the Super Bowl. I don’t know why. I guess that Gene’s judgement is broken right now.
I really really really do not want to go to work tomorrow. I have two days of unwritten vacation time leftover from working all day on Xmas. I’m tempted to call in tomorrow. Gene needs to go see the doctor tomorrow anyway (is it a simple head cold? or is it bronchitis? Either way, the issue needs fixin’ right now so we get to go see the baaaaaby in Maryland).
Heh heh, I said “fixin'”.
The good news is at work is that everything that is Old (Boss) is New (Boss) again. I can’t even begin to GUESS how to abbreviate all of that.
Fuggit. I should just start referring to them with outrageous pseudonyms. Perhaps referring to Old(NewAgain) Boss is…hmm, something really dramatic. Gwendolyn. And New(SoontoBeOld!) Boss as something even more crazy dramatic. Stefania. Heh. (Who sez I never use my writing degree?).
Ugh, it’s after 11 and I have to be up absolutely no later than 6 to get to the gym by 6:30 to meet my new trainer. Blech. An eating disorder would be SO much easier, really.
Nothing new here in Cheesecake City. Was I the only person who thought that the Super Bowl was LAST Sunday? I thought it was always in January. Anyway, Gene and I have different plans for Super Bowl Sunday:
Elaine: Geeking, listening to Sirius 22
Gene: Laying (or lying, whatever) in bed, begging for yummies from Smoothie King and for me to just shoot him already. (And trust me, if the life insurance had come through….)
We have already completed the breakfast portion of the day as well as the “let’s have KFC for lunch because we saw a commercial for KFC” portion. On the bright side, if Gene is sick I can get out of both making a menu AND grocery shopping. Hooray!
In other news, I should be commended for NOT adding to the Illicit Baby Stash. (I’m looking at YOU, Target 50% clearance). Seriously, it was close to escalating to furniture, people. I am such a gigantic loser.
In other other news, here’s another reason to not upgrade to the fancy front loader washing machine: I still have SEVEN bottles of All Free & Clear Small & Mighty detergent. This is down from over a dozen bottles about six months ago. Again, commendations are appreciated. (Hey, most of it was purchased for $1 a bottle, go me).
Speaking of laundry, the crud in the fabric softener part of the washing machine is totally gone. Yippee. Thank you, hot water!