I’ve Never Been So Hot…And Not In A Good Way

Yes this is real, and I took it. Right before I burst into flames.

So, the only thing worse than surviving a week-long, record breaking heatwave in Phoenix…is having your air conditioning die right in the middle of it.  Four days and three repairmen later…we’re finally back in our house.

Me: I’m no longer a vagrant!

Ryan: Yea!  Did you lower the thermostat to 72, just because you can?

Me: The house is finally down to 84, I’m trying not to push it too fast.

Ryan: I had a brand new unit go out once, and the house got up to 95.  The cats weren’t happy.

Me: I’m guessing because the fur?

Ryan: I tried to get them wet, but they didn’t like it.

Me: I’m gonna go ahead and let you reread that last sentence to yourself.

For Once…It Wasn’t Me She Was Annoyed By…For Once

So, apparently, my mother was online, and was reading a fluff article where people submitted captions for a photo of the President’s dog.  She thought the captions were hilarious, but evidently, my daughter was having none of this.

Damn You, Sarah McLachlan

Just over a year ago, the universe colluded with a youtube clip, and my poor heart, still bruised from losing my previous dogs, started to feel like it could stand another foray into pet ownership.

What has happened since, is a love affair with this animal, which is just this side of legally reportable.

I swear I only LOOK like the spawn of Dog-Satan.

Example 1:

(Just getting out of shower, and discovering the dog had one of his stuffed animals…)

Liam (yelling): “Sully, you get back here! You better give me that!”

Liam (muttering to himself): “I’m going to go put on some underwear, so he takes me seriously.”

Example 2:

Me: “Hey, I think the dog isn’t as freaked out by grown men anymore! He totally stopped barking at this one guy, after just a minute, and then he even licked sweat off his forehead.”

Tracy: “Um…why is a guy sweating in your house?”

Me: “He was a mover, pervert.”

Tracy: “Maybe he only likes sweaty men?”

Me: “Maybe he only likes men that take shit from our house.”

Example 3:

Caolinn: “I think the dog relates to me.”

Me: “The dog spends half his day drinking from the toilet and trying to eat pads out of the garbage.”

Caolinn: “Well…aside from that.”

Why Does the Dog’s Butt Smell Like Listerine?

Miracles don’t just happen on tortillas, folks.

Every night, after I tuck her in, my daughter wants me to lay down with her, which inevitably results in the dog (Sully) jumping in the bed, as well.

Me: “Yeah, there’s nothing more relaxing than listening to the dulcet tones of Sully, licking himself.  Yeah, that’s it, boy…really get on in there.”

Caolinn: “Hey, he likes to keep himself clean.”

Me: “If he likes to be clean, you’d think he wouldn’t hate baths so much.  You’d think he’d be all, ‘Hey, there’s one less day I have to lick my own ass.'”

*moving to get up and go to my own bed*

Caolinn: “You cannot leave on that note.  Lay back down and start talking about something that doesn’t involve the dog’s anus.”

*long pause*

Me: “I got nothing.”

Caolinn: *sigh*

My dog sucks at physics.

Here’s the thing…my dog is a smooth motherfucker.  From the time he was rescued as a puppy, he has been as close to perfect an animal as you get.  It has taken little to no effort to get him potty trained, crate trained, command trained, and he even goes leash-free when we feel like it, because he’s that badass.  Aside from a rather rampant obsession with tissues, and who doesn’t love a good used tissue, he chews on nothing.  When he has to puke, he even deliberately runs and does it on the tile, so he doesn’t mess up the carpet.  Seriously…best dog ever.

The one thing…the ONE THING that I need this dog to learn is that two things cannot occupy the same space at the same time, so if anyone knows a good physicist/dog trainer, please drop me a line, so my daughter can ride to the dog park without looking like this.

Pauli Principle? Whaaaaa?

Children’s Literature is clearly being written by perverts and weirdos. How do I get in on this? Seriously…I’m a natural.

So there I was…minding my own business, when I randomly found the following book, sitting on top of a shelf.

Fanstastic, yes?  At the time, I posted it to Facebook, asking friends and family (most of whom would probably deny me three times, even without fear of execution) what they thought the possible secret could be.  I mean…come on…it’s a cat.  If they were people they would openly kill with such guile, that authorities would have very little want to even bother prosecuting them for it.  (Although…I have heard of a lawyer who would totally take that case.)  I, personally, was holding out that the cat in question had two separate families,  being that I had recently read this horrifying article, that showed those little bastards were  like traveling salesmen in the sixties, and had a family on every block: http://www.kittycams.uga.edu/research.html.  Another friend was holding out hope that the cat in question was about to come out of the closet (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but I think he was just misled by the rainbow lettering on the front cover.

In the end, the truth was finally revealed…

Yes, that’s right…an out-of-wedlock, youthful pregnancy, in which the shame of her condition caused her to birth her babies in solitude.  I like to picture her biting on a leather belt, to keep the mewling to a minimum.  Apparently, in this scenario, the birth of unwanted, fatherless kittens is a great birthday present.  Because nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, is a better present than some afterbirth getting on your favorite sweater.

Most alarming, perhaps, is how the cat got into that drawer in the first place.  Apparently, in this tale of shame and woe…they’ve also grown thumbs.  Which begs the question, if they have thumbs, then why no condoms?  Super irresponsible, Tabby.