The Rut

I got sick. No excuses, I probably wsn't taking care of myself. I just got nasty sick. It lasted for weeks but I can now say it's over. I'm back.

I feel into this sick-lady rut. I have been frighteningly lethargic the past few weeks, it's gross and unlike me. I'm holed up in Crystal Lake, my friends are far away and I am ready to get back to school. Actually, I am beyond ready. I've now read books on the history of pirates, female body image, new trends within urban society, globalization, travel narratives, mountain climbing, surfing, sex workers in Lahore and the unique situation of the american nun. Yes. I need knowledge to survive.

I have also decided that I need the man from cold case files to narrate my wedding.

Oh, and that commodore dingo is indeed a wonderful dog.

And then some

The last family member to visit this summer has gone home. I will be coming out of seclusion. Sorry I've been so away. Busy and stressful times which, admittedly, normally doesn't stop me from writing...but I've got a new project and it needs focus and time. It's going well.

When Mexicans Attack

My family has slowy been invading my house. I am doing my stint in parent land, so along with the invasion of Commodore Dingo and me (is it and I if it's a reference to more than one person and I or what? Recent speculations...), Einstein the family dog, mom, dad and my brother, julian. Last week we had my 13 year old cousin and an aunt visiting and this week another cousin and my younger brother's best friend are staying with us. I have absolutely no problem with any of this. It's nice to see the outer-family. I rarely get back to California anymore and it's tough to be the only ones not living there.

but I lived semi-alone in Madrid and the noise of my family home isn't so much annoying as surprising. I am a pretty loud person but...wow.

on that note,

I'm going back to my dream of one day being a shy person. If I work hard at it, someday I wil be shy!

Oh, and I know that this little post has no flow and makes very little sense but I'm exhausted and hey, gimme a break, I write these things for my own entertainment.

A Healthy Sort of Vengeance

Oh? You've heard? Yes. It's true.

I am the shape of a Butternut Squash.

I saw it coming and I should have stopped it. I'm not saying that all you other squash like ladies aren't beautiful, the squash is a perfectly sexy vegetable, go out and work that squash-ass. The shape just isn't for me though. It must be destroyed.

My mother convinced me to join weight watchers. I agreed, I'm not really doing anything this summer so I figured it might keep me busy, though I was unsure how much time watching my weight would actually take. I was under the assumption that I was really just pure muscle that had taken on a fat-like look so that my enemies would never see me coming. After the first weigh-in, I suspected I was wrong. Very, very, very wrong.

Weight Watchers is not a place where I go to socialize. I appear to be taking this American Gladiator approach to the whole situation, developing my own method of competitive weight watching. This method is known as Project Beat Tams.

There is a woman in my group I call Tams, she is about 4 years older than me and initially I thought it might be nice to have someone around my age to talk to. I was wrong. Very, very, very wrong.

Tams approached me and started chatting, exprssing a really strange interest in my romantic life, asking me if I had a boyfriend. I said no and wondered why on earth she was trying to pick me up at a weight watchers meeting. I may be tubby, but I prefer men. I was thinking about how to let her down gently when she then told me that she was married to her high school sweetheart and had 3 kids. I said "oh, how lovely to have children" or something along those lines. She said "yes, it is. Anywho, that's me. At your age I was perfect. Tiny. What's your excuse?"

Excuse me?

Perfect?

I need an excuse?

ANYWHO?

And so Project Beat Tams was born. The conversation continued, it got more offensive and there was a point where I thought she might be a good candidate for an excorcism. So now...I have to win and be reaching maximum hotness before she does. I feel this is a healthy sort of vengeance.

To clarify, I'm not a mean person. I am sarcastic, dry, random, kinda goofy and currently obsessed with Dubai. All this and more, totally true. But how do you get your jollies looking down your nose at other people at a weight watchers meeting? Those are people who are trying to better themselves for their health or for their self-esteem, and some of them have been dealing with it their whole lives. Some of these people grew up ridiculed and teased and to try and put them back in that place so you can feel better about yourself is obscene. I hope that for her own sake, Tams has a good cup of tea or buys a scented candle or spoons with her high school sweetheart. Whatever she needs to do because the whole situation and the fact that I've seen her corner other people...man, she needs to go to a good dance party.

But, hey, the project keeps me motivated. I'm doing what I need to do to avoid eternal Squashdom and getting healthier. It's been a good few weeks and I intend to keep it up. I might even give myself a good American Gladiator name. Any ideas?

And if you say "squasher", I'll sick Tams on you.

The Infamous Stories of Dogs 1 and 2

Dog 1: A Tale of Betrayal

Meet my first Dog of the Summer. In order to get over his loss, I have convinced myself that he was satanic. This is obvious if you only look into his demon eyes, glowing with the light of the million souls he has eaten...




In a previous post, I mentioned negotations for this dog. How I had been shown this dog by Family Member M (people I love to hate protection program) and then told he wasn't available. One day, I decided to take a different dog from the family where I got him, as they have many, many dogs.

When I got to the house with my father, a family member told me that I could take the dog I wanted, (pictures above) he was indeed available. I questioned several times, I asked and asked, I made very certain. Family member (we shall call him D, for protection) D said to go ahead and take the dog, as he obviously loved me. and oh, he did.

That night phone calls from M and her children started. The next day, a gigantic email war was waged, filled with negotiations. I had been given a dog, I intended to keep it. You can't just change your mind. You cannot be an AmerIndian (native american, if you prefer) giver!

The last email however, which was sent to my father, was from M stating that the dog was needed back because M did not feel any love was coming M's way from anyone, especially D, so Dog 1 was needed for love. D apparently was drunk when he awarded me with the dog and M wants to leave D but does not have the money. Yes. This shit happens.

My parents have a heart of gold, they agreed to this. I agreed too...but I had to give back my dog because someone was without love, and they only had enough dogs to form a pack in their yard...but really, who wants to be the bitch who refuses others love? Not I, said the brown girl...Not I.

Dog 2 on the Rise

This is my dog, Rusty. I found him online. He was going to be euthenised at a shelter in Indiana because he had been there for a few weeks. He is a golden retriever mix, trained, housebroken, up to date on shots, does not bark. Playa, even like cats.

I'll admit, I wasn't as excited about adopting a shelter dog. I sort of applied like "meh, poor thing is going to die, I might as well, probably won't even get accepted". Well, I got accepted and next thing you know I was driving 3 hours to Indiana for a dog I had only seen online and was told "don't worry, he's been aggression tested, they have to be after their abused". Turns out he's cool and I take him everywhere now. They named him Rusty at the shelter, but I try not to call him by that slave name. He goes by Commodore Dingo.

So, yes, I finally have a dog. Yes, he is strange. Yes, you may play with him.

info for the friendly reader: I realize this story was filled with potential for punning. Honestly, though. Honestly.