It's like a Tiny Crack-Head has Taken Over my Livingroom

Meet Iggy (click for more pics), 6 weeks old and too cute to strangle.

Other than a rather inappropriate puppy-penis-related joke from the vet, h\is first trip to the vet went really well.

The guess that he was 6 weeks old seems to be right and he weighs 4.5 pounds.  Just large enough to make a humongous mess...

We've been saying for years that we can't get another dog (well, other people have been saying it and I just pouted) but after hearing this little bundle of dorkiness' story, I couldn't resist.  I only have a couple different takes from a couple different people who were there so I am not at all responsible for the possible complete inaccuracy of his sad story with a [hopefully] happy ending.  I will say that it definitely involves a group of innocent bystanders going about their work-related business and an asshole with a gun.

About 3 weeks ago at a job site with clients and vendors and the usual desert flora and fauna, a gun-toting fuck-head decided he'd had enough of the stray dogs that were presumably on his property.  Instead of trying to be humane and law-abiding, he decided the fastest and most fucked-up way to deal with the problem would be to shoot the mother and then tie her to the back of his truck and drag her away.  A litter of 6 tiny pups was found and a wonderfully caring coworker just couldn't leave them behind.  I have no idea what will or if anything will happen to the asshole.  I like to think he spontaneously combusted and Satan is shoving pineapples up his ass.

Cooter (8 year old black lab) needed a friend, Pi (evil wrapped in cuteness) needed a bigger army, and I've been wanting a dog of my own for a while; and then along comes Iggy. 

The clincher was this wonderful photo - He is the missing link in the dork-pile that is my life:

Yes that is poop, and no it is not his own.

And altho he seems to be ignoring him fiercely, Conner has already been a bad influence.

 

On another high note - Procrastination has puppy-proofed the front room.  The carpet was older than me and ragged as hell so that went  and left cold but easy to clean concrete floors.  The round concrete forms were left in the corner for 8 months but they make great barriers.  The stack of newspapers for recycling were becoming a teetering tower of fire-hazard but now they come in handy to keep the poop-monster in check.  So, thank you, Last-Minute-Man.  It seems that all your put-off projects have had a purpose after all.

Where'd I put my doilies?

The quick and depressing descent into "oldness" begins.

The second I started toying with the idea of actually celebrating a birthday for once (my birthdays have historically been horrendously annoying/painful/depressing occasions that generally lead to binge drinking, fist fights or litigation - whatever can go wrong will and with a vengeance) the doomiest of doom began to creep. Anything that can break, has, from the smallest household appliance to the roof falling down around me to the cause of 95% of my stress and anger no longer being content with merely picking at the hairline crack in my sanity. The narcissist/nihilist in me is convinced that the economy turning to crap is somehow tied into all of this as well.

So for a few months I've watched all of this spiral into the habitual pot-smoker (this is only a metaphor; I cannot afford vices) equivalent of a violent shame and anger spiral, all the while thinking that this is all a fluke, a phase, a convenient excuse to tell my sloppy world to go fuck themselves. Denial can be a lovely thing when paired with sarcasm and a skewed sense of self.

All of the second-guessing and ignoring my instincts and basically turning away from everything I used to like about myself all in the name of getting along and fitting into some screwed up idea of someone else's bliss was nothing compared to whatever Martha-Stewart-Voodoo temporarily (I hope, I hope, I hope) took over my brain this evening. In a matter of seconds I went from being alright with the concept of "Turning 30" to thinking using shot glasses to organize my meds and vitamins was the best idea I've had in a long while.

If anyone needs me I'll be at the kitchen table putting together a million piece puzzle from the Bridges of Lame Faux Scenery with Too Much Sky and listening to NPR. Now where'd I put my doily-hat...

Happy Holidays!! (Enjoy this; it's the only time you'll ever see me dance.)

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Eew! I'm all Zwinky!!

Just be Happy it took this long

I think I'm having a mid-life crisis. I must be because then it would coincide with what the previously discussed "agitators" (thank you, Anonymous; that beats the hell out of the "life-sucking fuckwads" I sometimes refer to them as in my darkest moments) seem to think - that this is all just my fault and it will blow over in time. I haven't been this miserable in a long, looong time and I don't want to fall back into the same shit I did before. For one, it would kill me now and b, I can't afford it because of the aforementioned "agitators."

I am in Sin City with a heavy mind, a fatter ass and the urge to do something stupid creeping up on me. I'm just happy that my self-control is still tied into my severe stubbornness. It just puts a damper on the usual, acceptable fun that can be had in a place where no one I know will see me for a year and the rest don't give a rat's ass.

Going to revel in some selfishness because no one's here to make me feel bad about not caring about other people for a change -

I need a nap.

I need a drink.

I need a friend.

I need some food.

I need... fuck it. It doesn't matter what I need. But it will. Because any more of this and it won't be clean and it won't be nice. It'll be dirty, ugly and mean and that overseas job offer will start to look like a dream come true.

Ooooooohhhh....

Pretty, shiny and smart.  I have the mythical scientist/supermodel of laptops.

Test

I know there's been a whole lot of griping about Windows Vista, but if this works, then I say it's worth it!  Laziness is the mother of invention... and child-hood obesity.