My neighbors Tony and Lottie have 2 large Cujo-like dogs. When Goldie is in the yard, they snarl at the fence as if they are going to bust through the wood and tear her limb from limb.
Goldie, being a polite GOOD GIRL lady dog, merely prances along the fence with her toy in her mouth, making her little "rrrr-rrrr-rrrr" noise.
The Cujos are barkers, too, and since Tony and Lottie live in a house at the front of a deep lot, and since I live in the house at the back of a deep lot, when the dogs bark at the back fence, the neighbors can't hear them, but I can.
Last night I went to bed about 11 and one of the Cujos was barking. I put in earplugs and turned on my radio to loud static. I could still hear Cujo, who is the most annoying barker on the plane. He was quiet just long enough to allow me to fall asleep, then a short burst of loud barking.
Awake. Asleep. Awake. Asleep. And so on.
At 11:35, I got up, put on clothes, put on shoes, went out to the fence and made sure it was indeed the Cujo doing the barking.
I walked over and knocked on the neighbors' door. I could see their TV on and all their cars were home. No answer. More knocking. Louder knocking. Waiting.
Finally Tony came to the door.
"Um, I think your dog is barking at the back fence," I said.
"No, my dogs are inside here," Tony said.
"Huh? Are you sure? I was RIGHT by the fence and your dog was out..." I said, puzzled.
"Nope," Tony said.
I came back home and the barking had stopped. Cujo was inside.
Tony had gotten up, let his dog in, then come to the door and LIED to me about his dog being outside. Why not just say "Oh, sorry about the barking, I just put the dog in"?
How weird can people get?
19 March 2009
18 March 2009
All about my face
Sorry about the lack of blogging (oh, yes, I know, the world positively wept at the lack of Red Stapler posts. No apologies needed, Miss Self-Centered).
I try not to mention That Place I Go 40 Hours a Week, but let's just say that since the beginning of the year, it has sucked all of the marrow out of my bones and left my crumpled carcass to dry in the sun (but I love it! I do! Because I NEED ME A JOB!), so I just haven't been able to persuade my carcass to post very often.
Speaking of my carcass, let's look at all the great things that have happened to my face in 2009:
First, in January, Goldie clocked me in the mouth with her head as she was struggling to get away from the veterinarian. I actually saw the proverbial stars! That dog has a head the same size and specific gravity as a red brick. I swear the resulting bruise looked more impressive in real life than in this photo:
The there was the cute new haircut, accompanied by a colossal zit on the end of my nose that plagued me for over 2 weeks. BIG! RED! ZIT! You might say I have the skin of a woman 1/4 my age (but not in a good way):
Last week, I got 3 fillings (2 were replacements) and a great new bruise atop one of my chins, thanks to Dr. R. Can I maybe get a discount off that $528 bill for the disfigurement?
And then yesterday my eye started to hurt. And swell. And swell:
Ah, ah, ahllergy season!
2009 has obviously not been my year. If it keeps going like this, I think Vogue is going to cancel my upcoming cover. Dang.
I try not to mention That Place I Go 40 Hours a Week, but let's just say that since the beginning of the year, it has sucked all of the marrow out of my bones and left my crumpled carcass to dry in the sun (but I love it! I do! Because I NEED ME A JOB!), so I just haven't been able to persuade my carcass to post very often.
Speaking of my carcass, let's look at all the great things that have happened to my face in 2009:
First, in January, Goldie clocked me in the mouth with her head as she was struggling to get away from the veterinarian. I actually saw the proverbial stars! That dog has a head the same size and specific gravity as a red brick. I swear the resulting bruise looked more impressive in real life than in this photo:
The there was the cute new haircut, accompanied by a colossal zit on the end of my nose that plagued me for over 2 weeks. BIG! RED! ZIT! You might say I have the skin of a woman 1/4 my age (but not in a good way):
Last week, I got 3 fillings (2 were replacements) and a great new bruise atop one of my chins, thanks to Dr. R. Can I maybe get a discount off that $528 bill for the disfigurement?
And then yesterday my eye started to hurt. And swell. And swell:
Ah, ah, ahllergy season!
2009 has obviously not been my year. If it keeps going like this, I think Vogue is going to cancel my upcoming cover. Dang.
15 March 2009
I guess we could go random
I have some weird superstitions:
1. I hate it when I am driving and I go on a bridge either over or under a moving train. This happened to me twice this week.
2. I will not sign a check in red ink.
3. I only pick up pennies that are heads up.
4. I think the number 23 is the luckiest number.
How about you?
1. I hate it when I am driving and I go on a bridge either over or under a moving train. This happened to me twice this week.
2. I will not sign a check in red ink.
3. I only pick up pennies that are heads up.
4. I think the number 23 is the luckiest number.
How about you?
12 March 2009
11 March 2009
Just lose it
So then.
I had to work last night. I got to interview Rainn Wilson of "The Office," which sounds a lot more interesting than it was, given that he had fasted all day and was tired and punchy and ADD and I was tired and had talked to about 20 people who had stories so much more amazing and compelling than his that I was a little worn out by then, so we both sort of bored each other for 4 minutes before jumping up, relieved to be done.
ANYWAY
I had told the folks at least three times that I was not coming by their house after work because I had to go to my other job.
At 6 pm I got a call from my dad asking where I was. They were worried.
Crap. I reassured him and told him I would not be coming by in the morning, either, because I was going to work at home.
This morning at 7:45 I got a call from dad.
"Are you sleeping?"
"No, Dad, I'm working."
"Where are you?"
They were worried because I didn't come by. Thus, I learned my lesson. When I deviate from my regular sched, no matter HOW many times or how recently I tell them, I MUST write it on the calendar. My bad.
Today I picked Dad up at 4 and took him to see his tax preparer. We rode downtown and back, chatting.
When I got back to the house, I started talking to Mom.
"....that's what the home health care lady did yesterday," Mom said in the middle of something.
"What home health care lady?" I asked.
"The one that came yesterday," she said, as if that were a perfectly normal occurrence.
"There was a lady here yesterday?" I said.
"Oh, there were lots of people here yesterday," Mom answered. "Firemen, paramedics, ambulance..."
"WHAT?" I asked.
Apparently Mom's new meds had disagreed with her. She hadn't been sleeping and sometime on Wednesday, someone (I still don't know who) called 911 because Mom was feverish and disoriented. She was assessed and refused to go to the hospital.
She doesn't know where the home health care lady came from or who sent her. Neither does Dad.
I tried to pry details from her, but Mom just waved her hands around and insisted I go get some Burger King for dinner for her and dad.
When I got back from BK, I sat at the table as they dove into their hamburgers.
"Why did no one tell me what happened?" I asked.
"Well, we tried," Mom said. "Dad called you last night and this morning but you were busy and I tried to call you this afternoon and you didn't answer."
"Did you leave a message?" I asked. I had not heard the phone ring but maybe I was in the middle of a call?
"Oh no, there was no message, just one ring, and a click, so I figured you did not want to be bothered since you wouldn't answer" my mom said.
I do not generally speak sharply to my mom. Oh, maybe about once every...oh 47 years. But oh man, I lost it.
"LOOK," I said. (If I am mad, you can count on me to say "Look.") "Dad called me last night and didn't mention that you were sick. He called me this morning and didn't mention it. He and I spent half an hour in the car and he did not say a word. And you did NOT leave a message, so how was I to know what was going on? No one told me anything and that is SO wrong and SO unfair and I need to know what is going on because I love you and I would drop ANYTHING, anything if you needed me and you should know that by now!"
Do I need to mention I was sob-yelling by then? Gah.
Yeah, I was mad. And I was offended. And at the same time I understood that they don't have the capacity that they once had.
But the point I was really trying to impress on them, and I think I was successful - was that they really, really need to tell me what is going on and not pussyfoot around.
This elderly parents thing is as much fun as a barrel of monkeys. Face-tearing, testicle-mauling monkeys.
I have a knot in the neck the size of a Cadbury egg. And my teeth hurt from grinding them. So I am going to listen to some old skool Eminem and go to my happy place - while shouting "Aaah-aaah-aaah!"
I had to work last night. I got to interview Rainn Wilson of "The Office," which sounds a lot more interesting than it was, given that he had fasted all day and was tired and punchy and ADD and I was tired and had talked to about 20 people who had stories so much more amazing and compelling than his that I was a little worn out by then, so we both sort of bored each other for 4 minutes before jumping up, relieved to be done.
ANYWAY
I had told the folks at least three times that I was not coming by their house after work because I had to go to my other job.
At 6 pm I got a call from my dad asking where I was. They were worried.
Crap. I reassured him and told him I would not be coming by in the morning, either, because I was going to work at home.
This morning at 7:45 I got a call from dad.
"Are you sleeping?"
"No, Dad, I'm working."
"Where are you?"
They were worried because I didn't come by. Thus, I learned my lesson. When I deviate from my regular sched, no matter HOW many times or how recently I tell them, I MUST write it on the calendar. My bad.
Today I picked Dad up at 4 and took him to see his tax preparer. We rode downtown and back, chatting.
When I got back to the house, I started talking to Mom.
"....that's what the home health care lady did yesterday," Mom said in the middle of something.
"What home health care lady?" I asked.
"The one that came yesterday," she said, as if that were a perfectly normal occurrence.
"There was a lady here yesterday?" I said.
"Oh, there were lots of people here yesterday," Mom answered. "Firemen, paramedics, ambulance..."
"WHAT?" I asked.
Apparently Mom's new meds had disagreed with her. She hadn't been sleeping and sometime on Wednesday, someone (I still don't know who) called 911 because Mom was feverish and disoriented. She was assessed and refused to go to the hospital.
She doesn't know where the home health care lady came from or who sent her. Neither does Dad.
I tried to pry details from her, but Mom just waved her hands around and insisted I go get some Burger King for dinner for her and dad.
When I got back from BK, I sat at the table as they dove into their hamburgers.
"Why did no one tell me what happened?" I asked.
"Well, we tried," Mom said. "Dad called you last night and this morning but you were busy and I tried to call you this afternoon and you didn't answer."
"Did you leave a message?" I asked. I had not heard the phone ring but maybe I was in the middle of a call?
"Oh no, there was no message, just one ring, and a click, so I figured you did not want to be bothered since you wouldn't answer" my mom said.
I do not generally speak sharply to my mom. Oh, maybe about once every...oh 47 years. But oh man, I lost it.
"LOOK," I said. (If I am mad, you can count on me to say "Look.") "Dad called me last night and didn't mention that you were sick. He called me this morning and didn't mention it. He and I spent half an hour in the car and he did not say a word. And you did NOT leave a message, so how was I to know what was going on? No one told me anything and that is SO wrong and SO unfair and I need to know what is going on because I love you and I would drop ANYTHING, anything if you needed me and you should know that by now!"
Do I need to mention I was sob-yelling by then? Gah.
Yeah, I was mad. And I was offended. And at the same time I understood that they don't have the capacity that they once had.
But the point I was really trying to impress on them, and I think I was successful - was that they really, really need to tell me what is going on and not pussyfoot around.
This elderly parents thing is as much fun as a barrel of monkeys. Face-tearing, testicle-mauling monkeys.
I have a knot in the neck the size of a Cadbury egg. And my teeth hurt from grinding them. So I am going to listen to some old skool Eminem and go to my happy place - while shouting "Aaah-aaah-aaah!"
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