My sister has a gorgeous pitbull named Bijoux.
Okay, I know you're thinking "What's wrong with her?" but, honestly, she's a really sweet dog. I mean she may have the hands of a burly, wood-chopping, lumberjack, but she tries to be gentle, I think. She really almost does, kind of.
I think that when she jumps up on me, it's her way of saying, "Hey, we're friends, let's conversate and really see eye-to-eye on things." That's the idea I'm getting. Unfortunately, it translates physically into "My nails are made of broken bicycle spokes and I intend to do you great bodily harm while looking like I have a huge smile on my face because I'm mocking you."
Maybe if I spoke dog.
She just has these big sweet eyes, and she just looks at you so intently like she adores you or wants to eat the lips off your face, and you can't help but love her when she rolls on her back and flails her paws in the air, but that's the perfect moment to run because she's distracted.
Also, my best friend owns this adorable tabby cat named Izzy. There's nothing wrong with her, either. She just has the attention span of a cat with no attention span and obviously doesn't understand English. She's forever getting into trouble and tipping things over and laying on the scarecrow... don't ask. And every time I come over, she's managed to find the most ridiculous 'toys' to bat around the carpet.
Three bottle caps, a bottle, a screw, a Hanna Montana hair extension, lip balm, a candy wrapper, another screw, a ball of paper, a cough drop... Like, basically going to my best friend's house is never without a few rousing games of 'What's In Her Mouth?', 'Did You Hear That?', and 'What the F*** Is She Breaking Now??'. Better than Snakes and Ladders.
I'm not sure where I was going with this.
Yeah, I can't own pets, because if you're gonna be my pet, you will f***ing respect me and not put s*** in your mouth. And apparently, only rocks can do that, and rocks are great for throwing and we all know I have not-great anger management.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Let me tell you about Frieda...
So I was working at my second job today, at the party store, putting back some stray crap that you people (I mean humankind in general, you nasty gunkholes) like to leave in random parts of the store, and I happened upon Five-Dollar Frieda, and I was this close to yelling "Frieda!! How are you??"
That doesn't make up much of a story, I know, but there's a backdrop I need to lay, first.
Maybe two years ago, while I was at my first job at the electronics store, I was idling around the registers as this homely-looking lady was finishing up her transaction. It was all fine until the cashier says, "And look at that, you saved five dollars", which was nice and pleasant, and all. Then the customer exclaims, I mean literally, exclaims, "Wow! Now I can get that TV I've been looking at!"
But, the stupid thing is, she meant it. I mean, she wasn't being sarcastic, she, like, was ecstatic about it. She was all reading her receipt to make sure the cashier wasn't frippering around with her emotions, and by golly, she had saved five fricking dollars and she was darn proud of herself.
And, come on, really, had she been looking at a TV-shaped PEZ dispenser? What kind of television set could be expected at the price of 5 dollars? Like, what, she'd been saving up and by NOT spending this money she had put herself right on target? What kind of sense does that make? Whatever.
Anyway, in that moment (and every time she comes into my first job), I just took it upon myself to name her Five-Dollar Frieda, and some of the other employees have, too, but don't tell her that, because she's homely and already wears mom-jeans and an horrible coat and awful Keds, so more ridicule would just pummel her unnecessarily.
What was the point here...
Oh, so I saw her at the party store looking through her coupons and I thought it was funny that I almost called her out on her frugality. Plus, she would have said something like "Oh, no, my name's Mary-Anne."
No offense if you're name's Mary-Anne.
Or Frieda, for that matter.
That doesn't make up much of a story, I know, but there's a backdrop I need to lay, first.
Maybe two years ago, while I was at my first job at the electronics store, I was idling around the registers as this homely-looking lady was finishing up her transaction. It was all fine until the cashier says, "And look at that, you saved five dollars", which was nice and pleasant, and all. Then the customer exclaims, I mean literally, exclaims, "Wow! Now I can get that TV I've been looking at!"
But, the stupid thing is, she meant it. I mean, she wasn't being sarcastic, she, like, was ecstatic about it. She was all reading her receipt to make sure the cashier wasn't frippering around with her emotions, and by golly, she had saved five fricking dollars and she was darn proud of herself.
And, come on, really, had she been looking at a TV-shaped PEZ dispenser? What kind of television set could be expected at the price of 5 dollars? Like, what, she'd been saving up and by NOT spending this money she had put herself right on target? What kind of sense does that make? Whatever.
Anyway, in that moment (and every time she comes into my first job), I just took it upon myself to name her Five-Dollar Frieda, and some of the other employees have, too, but don't tell her that, because she's homely and already wears mom-jeans and an horrible coat and awful Keds, so more ridicule would just pummel her unnecessarily.
What was the point here...
Oh, so I saw her at the party store looking through her coupons and I thought it was funny that I almost called her out on her frugality. Plus, she would have said something like "Oh, no, my name's Mary-Anne."
No offense if you're name's Mary-Anne.
Or Frieda, for that matter.
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