So we wrapped up the party season with a little gathering at our house here. The thinking was, if we hosted our own New Years party we wouldn't have to be wandering around at all hours of the night, and we wouldn't end up experience the countdown to midnight on the T or in the car on the way home. The plan was, actually, to experience it asleep, which was why we started our party at 5:00. We're still awake, but I expect that will change soon, and in less than 45 minutes. What's midnight but a number?
In any case, that's it for partying for a while. It's hard work for us introverts!
Happy New Year, everyone.
The job i have contemplated leaving for the past year is now leaving me. In two short months i will be unemployed, laid off, fired, canned, creamed, however you want to put it, Shit Outa Luck. Yesterday my mother sympathetically suggested that i could be a secretary, you know, because of my excellent typing skills. Never have i wished more to be struck down by lightning in the middle of a food court. If all that lies before me is secretary-hood or working in anouther clothing store, Thank You but i'll prefer early death by lightning.
Other than still needing to work at the money-pit for anouther two months, i look forward to starting a grad program i cannot possibly manage while looking for a new job, and i dunno, maybe starting an alcohol addiction.
Dear [church person in charge of organizing things that cost money],
Thank you for your e-mail. The upcoming church ski trip sounds like an excellent opportunity for fun and fellowship, and i appreciate the invitation. Unfortunately, it is not within my means to attend this year. I recently learned that i am being laid off from my job, shortly after i begin my very expensive graduate degree program. As you can imagine, this comes as a bit of a financial shock after Dan was laid off just six months ago. What with morgage payments and loans accumulating, it doesn't look favorable that we will be able to afford a vacation in the forseeable future. Unless you count our eventual deaths and, God-willing, assention into heaven as a vacation. I do look forward to such a change of scenery!
Have fun with the kids, and i'm sorry again that i won't be in attendance.
I'm reading a text book today, which is like a magizine for dumb people who need all the larger words BOLDED and reprinted in the margins. This is not real school work, but pre-school work on the nature of: Read this before you start business school to avoid looking like a dumbass who has never taken accounting or economics. Textbooks are also like magazines in that they have glossy pages and colored pictures. They are unlike magazines in that they cost A BILLION DOLLARS!!!
If we have so little business at the store for the rest of the month, i may finish all my homework before i start school!
I am not feeling so suicidal this week as last. Mostly, i have accepted that i am losing my job and will forever be a big failure, and with acceptance comes some semblance of peace. Also, Dan has been talking seriously about getting a "real" job, which if it happens, all my failures will no longer reverberate over the lives of two people and one poor dog. Seriously, with Dan staying home sometimes i felt so over-important that if i took a sick day our house would explode. Now that i'm a deadbeat, however, every day is a sick day!!!!!
My biggest concern with grad-school and job interviews is that Rascal has now bitten holes through ALL of my nice sweaters. I just looked down and realized i'm flashing undershirt all over the store. I didn't even know he'd gotten to this one! Emergency funds may need to be alocated to the J-Crew fund. On the plus side, Rascal learned how to lie Down in puppy class last night! We will tame this wild beast yet!
This year, I resolve to write in the blog every da-- Oh wait. But really, I have an excuse: first, our internet was out here for a couple days, and then later it was out on this computer specifically because Rascal bit through the ethernet cord in the hall while I was using the internet. I was surfing away, until all of a sudden a site wouldn't load. Odd... let me try Google. Nope. A sinking feeling. I have to say, I knew instantly what had happened. In Rascal's defence, he's always been afraid of that cord; I think he expected me to praise him for ridding our home of a dangerous snake.
The fact is, the 'agent of chaos' indicated in the title of this post is Rascal. It's not only that he likes to tear up paper and foam padding and scatter the bits all around the house (to say nothing of his own toys), nor even the fact that he bit through the cord of the vacuum cleaner to further his nefarious plot of making our house even messier than we can manage to make it ourself (he no doubt saw that cord as another snake and, even worse, one attached to some sort of terrifying robotic ant-eater). No, his real menace is more subtle. This evening I found a single sock in the hall, where he had left it, and I put it in the empty laundry basket in the bedroom. Ten minutes later, I noticed that the sock was now on the ground several feet from the once again empty basket; I put it back in. Not five minutes later it was out again, in the exact same spot as before. It's terrifying, I tell you.
Dan won't be doing any blog writing, or anything on the internet for that matter, for the next few days. Rascal chewed up anouther cord, and that's the last one we got till the cable guy comes on the 18th and strings wires through the walls. On the plus side, Dan's non-webbing computer activities have made us both some new classy resume layouts, which we will hopefully employ to our advantage this coming month. Rascal sure has been acting like a bad boy, chewing up cords and couches and everything he can put his teeth too. But then when you catch him and yell at him, he looks up at you with those big different-colored eyes, with that gaze that says, "I'm just a puppy!" and you just want to squeeze him in your little arms and smother him with kisses until he bites you on the chin.
My exhileration at locating, in the Boston Globe (which we now receive), a handful of jobs for which I might be qualified to apply, is tempered only by the fact that I now need to actually apply for them. Haven't I already done enough?! After all, isn't the process called finding a job? Jobs found: mission accomplished. Right?
On the other hand, I can report some solid success in the effort to reclaim our home from Rascal-driven chaos. The vacuum cleaner is now repaired, thanks to some fine work with a soldering iron from our friend Bill. Leah gave me tools for Christmas: one day I will be able to make such repairs myself, like a true American male. In any case, it's a very welcome thing to have the vacuum working again, and it let us restore our home to at least the level of cleanliness at which we traditionally maintain it. Now if I could only manage to fix the broken disposal in the sink, I'd have it made.
This month, chaos descended upon my life. No, i'm not speaking of losing my job or starting grad school, it's something much more terrible than that. This month, when i was least prepared for it, the New-Years-Revolutionists attacked my gym.
You know them when you see them coming: huge T-shirt-wearing, heaping with sweat, shifting weight from foot to foot in the middle of the room as if signaling, "i might take this machine or i might take this one, but i might against all rules of politeness hurtle myself in your direction and the machine you're about to get on." These hopeless behemoths, one usually sees one or two year-round, but this month the gym is absolutely overrun with uninitiates. Their frantic efforts towards personal embetterment, though valiant, leave us more dedicated fitnessists battling for space and machines and a mat not covered in McDonalds-smelling sweat. I'm sorry, but 30 minutes walking on the treadmill does not equal the snickers i saw you popping on the way in. Leave that treadmill for someone who needs to run. Also, you can't do crunches with a belly that huge. You're just going to hurt yourself... and you're hurting us watching you.
They're there every hour of the day! I try to get a quiet moment around 8pm, but that's just when the next wave comes, after a solid Taco-Bell dinner apparently. If one more huge man gets on a machine next to me only to start farting, i believe i'm entitled to deploy wedgie. I'm sorry, but you're fat. Really really fat. You don't need to steal my stepper machine. You need a complete life overhaul anti-fatass makeover. But please start somewhere else. Downwind.
While i don't like to watch fatasses in the gym, i DO like to watch them on TV where i can make fun of them in the privacy of my own home. Last night after a three-hour pushing-people-out-of-the-way gym session, i settled in to watch "The biggest loser" on NBC. Yikes those people are fat! Dan and i put together weighed less than each of them. Apparently when you're fat you cry a lot, even the guys. I'd make a good personal trainer/life coach; i'd be like, "Cowboy up fatty!" Yeah, the clients would love me!
Also on The Biggest Loser engaged-couples edition, the fat contestants were offered the chance to eat 20 pieces of cake to win $10,000 in wedding jewelry... all you had to do was find the jewelry hidden in the cake, and it's yours. As easy as a, dare i say it, piece of cake? Just break your diet for an evening. They all turned it down. "Nope, i want to win the weigh in, which is coming up soon, you know, more than a week away." What????? 20 pieces of cake for 10 grand? You think you can't metabolize that in 7 days? Just take an extra evening session on the elliptical; what else are you doin over there at the Loser ranch? Even Dan said he would induce vomiting for 10 thousand dollars. I just couldn't believe it. If Dan and i were on that show, we would have been all over that cake.
If Dan and i were on that show, though, they would have to call it: The biggest non-losers who are not afraid to suck it up and eat cake unlike you pussies show. Yeah, that'll sell.
Leah: Can you believe I've gained 15 pounds since the wedding?
Dan: Yes. You LOST 15 pounds FOR the wedding.
Leah: But I gained it back so quick!
Dan: Because you started eating again.
Leah: And How!
THANK YOU FOR SUBMITTING YOUR APPLICATION. YOU WILL RECEIVE A CONFIRMATION EMAIL SHORTLY.
APPLY FOR ANOUTHER JOB.
Apply for anouther job? They're rejecting me so soon? Only one second after i clicked in my application???
Oh wait, it's a link to their job listings main page... i guess that's a little better.
My parents stopped by last night to drop off some work stuff, and stayed just long enough to make me feel like a horrible failing failure in every respect, who will never make anything of herself because of being such a horrible failing failure. Weekly i am reminded why i fled to California... too bad I FAILED at making enough money there to support myself, and then FAILED to convince my husband that it was a good place to stay, only to move back home and where any small mistake such as "not making sure Dad didn't lose the petty cash" is met with the reasurance, "That's okay sweety, we knew all along that you were retarded."
I would happily flee again, if my parents didn't OWN EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE rendering all my hard work both futile and patronizingly amusing. Oh, isn't that cute, she's TRYING. Try harder, sweety, and maybe you'll get a cookie.
I was reading over some old entries here, and the most interesting observations I made were the ones about the weather. We had some interesting weather, last year. So in that spirit, I'll note we've been having some interesting weather this year too. The past two three days have been what you might describe as unseasonably warm: I had the car windows open when I was driving around last night after dark, and this morning I felt too hot when I went outside just in my sweatshirt. All the snow is melted in our yard, as of about 8:00 tonight. It's crazy. I think it all means we can expect a blizzard in the next couple days.
Also, Leah is right about her parents.
Big changes since yesterday: the Patriots lost a game that looked eminently winable at the time I last posted, and the temperature took a precipitious drop. 17 degrees (farenheit, natch) might not be that cold in absolute terms--we saw far colder last year, I believe--but when it comes eight or nine hours after a 55 degree evening, it feels like Siberia's dropped right on top of us. The wind which naturally accompanies such a shift in temperature was also a factor, I think. So far our house is still standing.
Leah went to a Girl Scout meeting tonight, so I was left to my own devices... which mostly involve watching CSI reruns. Unfortunately, she left at 5:00 and the CSIs don't start til 7:00, so I was forced to do useful and productive things for a couple hours. But after all that productivity (relatively), imagine my surprise when I turned on the tv a couple minutes before the hour to see an episode of CSI wrapping up! Ah yes... I did recall them mentioning something about a marathon of my program of choice, this afternoon. Oh well, so I missed a few episodes; there were more where that came from. It was not to be, however; it turns out the 6:00 episode was the last of the evening! Instead, the channel in question was going to be showing highlights from the year's Ultimate Fighting Champion matches.
So I watched a little of that. It's kind of like boxing was in the early part of the 19th century, what with the bare knuckles and the kneeing people in the nose. For a few moments I was impressed, and wondered if the young men competing were showing a toughness which put more traditional modern boxers to shame (a point of view suggested transparently by the announcers). After a little consideration, though, I realized that it wasn't the fighters' toughness that let them stand up to the bare-knuckled blows, it was their lack of any great punching skill. Put them in the ring with a journeyman proper boxer, was the impression I got, and it'd be over in one punch. Still, some people like to watch the blood get spattered around so I guess this sort of fighting is for them. I noticed a considerable number of the Ultimate Fighters were from Massachusetts; I wonder what that says about us?
Yesterday and today Dan has been threatening to give Rascal back. Rascal has been a bad boy recently, with pulling on his leash and not coming when we call, coupled with chewing on everything and not listening to anything we say. This comes on the heels (pun intended) of a spectacularly good-boy week. Rascal excelled at learning STAY in puppy class, and the next day he went on an entire walk with me heeling all the way. I was so proud of my little puppy, i was practically bursting at the seems of my parka (well, maybe that was the aforementioned 15lbs, but whatever.) Rascal was the goodest, smartest dog EVAR, and he was MY dog! I was just as proud as if i'd up and gave birth to him myself.
Then for some reason Rascal got a little bad; maybe because it was too cold outside and he had a little cabin fever, ur sumpin. The constant badness made Dan so irritated that whenever he mentioned the puppy yesterday, it was only in reference to firing him, giving him back, or returning him to the shelter we got him from.
Even though Dan was only frustratedly joking (sort of), these comments broke upon me as if he was threatening to murder my firstborn child. I am a worthless horrible failure of a mother to produce such an unloveable beast. I must flee to the hills with my baby, out of the piercing stare of "goodboy" "badboy" society. HE'S JUST A PUPPY! HE'S JUST A LITTLE BABY! HE'S MY BABY, DON'T TOUCH HIM!
Having a dog is a lot of hard work, but i never thought it would be so hard emotionally. Sit, Ego, Sit.
The restaurant host addresses me, gesturing his hand to the pink-and-red decked dining-room:
"All ready for VD!"
Oh, Valentines Day!
The other unwanted side-effect of coupling.
We recently started getting the Boston Globe delivered to our home. We committed to this daily force-feeding of print media for three very good reasons:
1) We hate hippies and want to destroy the rainforests FASTER.
2) We must be updated on the status of the Big Dig DAILY or we will never feel safe in Boston.
3) Get Fuzzy is simply not the same online.
Also, we both need jobs, and there are jobs in the newspaper so they tell me. Also they called our house offering the newspaper at less than half price and WE'RE POOR, HOW COULD WE RESIST???
The Boston Globe prints its daily funnies and other non-news in a half-page insert it calles the "Sidekick." This is always the first section out of the paper because Leah likes the comics and Dan likes the number puzzles that make absolutely no sense whatsoever, i don't even understand how they work, how could someone stare at them for thirty minutes? So this morning like all mornings the sidekick was sitting face up on the table. Hillarity ensues, in this dramatic recreation of our conversation:
Leah: "I have orientation tomorrow."
Dan: "You do? I thought you had orientation on Saturday."
Leah: "Tomorrow is Saturday."
Dan: "It is? Then what did i do yesterday?"
Leah: "I don't know what you did yesterday!"
Dan: "Well if yesterday was Thursday i did absolutely nothing!"
Leah: "Wait, maybe it's Thursday today. Let me check my phone."
(i pull out my hip-top and flip to the callendar.)
Leah: "Oh you're right, it is Thursday... (losing interest in this embarassing conversation) I like that photo on the Sidekick."
Dan: (looking at me like i have three heads) "Photo on the sidekick?"
Leah: "Yeah, where they're all holding cameras."
(Again the three heads look)
Leah: "Wait......(i look at the sidekick in my hand, then at the one on the table, then at the one in my hand.) (pointing to the table:) "The photo on that sidekick."
Dan: "This joke will never translate to the internet."
Today is a sad day at work. It is absolutely beautiful out, i have the door propped wide open, and two brand-new pandora customers came in simply GUSHING about how much they love this store and how much they'd like to buy in the FUTURE. Now that they're gone, i have to make the going-out-of-business ad.
Tomorrow is my orientation. SEXUAL ORIENTATION??? No, you sicko, get your mind out of the gutter. 8:30 to 4:30 i'll be learning all about how to go to school. Not that i haven't done THAT before. ... there'd better be someone else young there for me to bond with. No, sicko, not in that way. i hate you gross readers.
It must be confessed: Leah and I spent this evening--this Friday evening--watching the new Disney Channel musical. And we liked it. In our defence, though, Leah made a fair number of dirty jokes during the procedings. The fact is, it's kind of fun to watch the dancing. Getting to make fun of the silly Disney plot and the silly Disney actors is only a bonus. Despite the healthy irony this evinces, however, we shouldn't be given too much slack in this case: we did watch the whole thing to the end. We even checked back during the commercials to make sure we weren't missing a single thrilling moment!
The weather is wicked hot again. Like, over 60 degrees hot. The winter is broken.
We went on a long hike, Leah and Rascal and me, at a state park over in Carlisle, and the unacustommed fresh air and vigorous exercise made us all very tired indeed (Leah always gets alot of exercise, but usually it's in the stuffy stinky gym). Rascal especially wore himself out: not only did go about twice as far as us with all the running back and forth (not to mention the exhertion of pulling at the leash--don't tell Betty!) and playing with the two dogs we met along the way, he also went swimming for the first time in his young life! And boy, was he suprised. I have to say, Rascal, I know it's warm and all but still, here in Massachusetts January is never the best time for your first dip in a fresh flowing stream.
But he was playing with his new best friend (which is to say, whichever dog he's met most recently) and when the other puppy jumped right into the water chasing a stick, Rascal jumped in right after him. And then turned right around and got out about as quick as he could. I think he was under the impression that there was a chance the surface of the water would bear his weight; I know he tried it carefully in a few other spots along the bank. It didn't scar him for life, though, I'm happy to report: while he's still not a huge fan of the swimming, he did go in a couple more times, and I'm quite confident he'll be hopping right in once the weather turns warm for real.
In any case, he's been asleep ever since we got back, except for a little break for dinner; come to think of it, that pretty much describes Leah's evening too. And the only reason I'm still awake is because I wanted to record the momentous occasion of Rascal's first swim, so now that that's done
Saturday was my all day Grad-school orientation for which i was so terrified i left myself an hour drive 20 miles on an un-busy Saturday morning. Mostly i was not worried about being late, but about being the only young cute person in attendance. As i walked down the stairs to the breakfast i immedietly scanned the tables for other females under 30. First impression: some people have radically different definitions of Business Casual.
Well, it wasn't hard to find the table of cool-kids; the blond highlights reflected the overhead lighting like a beacon. Soon we were chatting away about shopping, the poor quality of the free breakfast, and Why are there so many frickin Indian men in this program? After breakfast we heard some speeches, during which i found out some things about this incoming class... mostly that i'm smarter than them. The average GPA for these 100 students is 3.2, the average GMAT score is 593, and the average age is 31. SUCKAS! I beat you on all counts! My GPA is 23% better than the average, My GMAT score is 23% better than the average, and my age is 22.5% younger than average. I WIN!!!
After the welcome lecture we split into groups for a classroom demo of the case-study method. If all my professors are as cutting as Dr. Sample Demo, i'm going to have a fun time at business school. Example of professor-student exchange:
Professor: "Why is there more than one answer for every question?"
Student: "Because the goals, objectives, cultures, and mission statements of each company are different."
Professor: "You threw every buzzword you knew in there, didn't you? You should know that i think cultures, objectives, and mission statements are mostly Bullshit."
A linguist after my own heart.
Later i took a walk around campus. It felt like spring with the gentle wind blowing, just right to put you in the mood for academic enrichment. I'll spare you the details of the rest of the orientation, since most people could really give two shits about business theory. Suffice it to say that i had a good time, and look forward to really getting down to the business of kicking everybody's asses in class. I mean studying. Studying.
The phone is ringing off the f-ing hook today, now that we've finally anounced our GOB sale, which stands for "Going Out of Business," or more accurately, "Gather here, Oh' ye cheap Bastards." Now that everything is 30 - 50% off, everyone wants their cut. "I saw a ring there a year ago, and i didn't want it before, but I want it now that it's on sale.... But how come you're going out of business?"
Leah: "This article traces pornographic images in music videos and calls for dramatic public outrage. That's the dumbest thing i've ever heard."
Dan: "I agree."
Leah: "I mean, just because TV is sexy doesn't mean it's corrupting the entire world."
Dan: "I know"
Leah: "It says girls these days confuse sex with empowerment. Like that's a NEW thing."
Dan: "Yeah right."
Leah: "Women have always been disempowered, so they've always been slutty. And as long as they are STILL disempowered, they STILL will be slutty, which will be FOREVER!"
Leah: "This is why i'm a post-feminist."
Dan: "Is that one of those kind of stripper dances? (mimicing sultry hip movements) You know, on a post?"
Becca has pictures of her dog on the internet.
Oona has pictures of her co-worker's dog on the internet.
Heather has pictures of her dog on the internet. She even has a callendar!
Where is Rascal's internet representation???
Don't make me get on your computer and try to figure out both the MAC interface and html. I WILL REAK HAVOC!!!!
(internet, if my loving husband responds to this faux bating, hopefully you will see pictures of our cute puppy real soon. But for now, imagine:
Rascal playing in the snow...
Rascal after a bath...
Rascal with a red bowtie....
all these could be soon yours.)
I phoned the lovely Cyndi to ask if she could work wiht me this weekend (with my fingers crossed on both hands, please, please, pretty please say yes...) and she obliged. PRAISE THE LORD!!!!! This GOB sale has been shear madness (sounds like a great name for a hair salon, don't you think? Am i the first one to think of that?) with ladies coming in and RAIDING the store like they were VIKINGS, PILAGING the once beautiful and valuable valuables. Hmmmmm, i don't know if i want this $20 ring or this $20 ring..... let me take more moments of your time while i decide..... IT'S PRICED TO MOVE PEOPLE!!! THAT MEANS YOU GOTTA MOVE TOO!
On a happier note, i did three hours of homework last night and learned some things too... like don't drink tea while you're studying until 11pm... you will NEVER sleep through the night. All i dreamed about were bathrooms, delicious bathrooms. The lexicon of business law, however, was notable absent from my reveries. How can i get you to work FOR me, subconscious?
Because he loves us so much, or maybe because of his protective instincts, Rascal has aquired the habit of checking up on us wherever we are in the house. This is very cute when you're sitting down to read the paper and a cute little fuzzy curls up next to you. It's not so cute when your sitting down somewhere else. You see, our bathroom door does not fully latch, and as soon as you sit down to a moment of peace and quiet, you hear that little nose pressing against the door. He nudges it open just a crack, and then in walks the little pup himself, you know, just to see what you're up to.
What's that? Oh, you're deficating? I am like soooooo into that.
"Some people like their privacy" does not translate into hound.
I am reminded of Jenine Gararafffafallooo's line in Reality Bites:
"My parents have been married so long they leave the door open when they pee."
I'm sorry, but i'm not really ready for that level of intimacy with my spouse. I dislike it if i even see him walking towards the bathroom with a book in his hand.
"You're not going in there with that book, are you?"
"That makes it a dirty book, just so you know."
In Leah's world, dirty books never end up later on the kitchen table. But in Leah's world people also use seperate sponges for dishes and counters and don't use utensils that have been licked by the dog. In other words, LALALAND.
Then again, i think, maybe it is fair. I mean, i watch Rascal poop all the time.
A moment of silence for Cody the Buffalo who died today, the only trained buffalo ever, found abandoned at birth in Cody Wyoming and adobted by Mike who bottle-fed him as a baby and trained him on Oreo cookies.
Morning Edition had this quote from Mike, the grieving owner.
"That Buffalo was the best thing to ever happen to me. He really was one of a kind. He changed my life."
I heard this story driving to work this morning, and Oh My God SOB!!!!!
I have not been so moved to tears by an animal story since hearing of the pet pot-bellied-pig who got rescued from New Orleans, and the owners thought he was being taken to be put to sleep because they couldn't take him to evacuate, but then the rescue workers told the owners they were going to keep the piggy safe and happy and well-fed until the owners could pick him up again, and they don't kill any animals, and the owners were so happy they were crying and hugging everyone...... Even now as i type this i tear up. They shouldn't allow those a-holes at NPR to put this shit on the radio!
My homework has exploded like a wild monster with four ravinous heads eating me. I have read six text-book chapters, two on-line articles, three on-line powerpoints. Despite over 12 hours of work this week, i am actually COMPLETELY UNABLE to solve my homework problems. I have read and annotated over two-hundred pages this week, no exageration, and i cannot do three problems. The only work for which i must deliver an answer, and i cannot.
i haven't even had my first class meeting yet, and already i am a complete and utter failure. It is 9:40 the evening before my first class, i have three homework problems that remain unsolvable by me, and i have an uncontrolable urge to drop out of business school or end my life. Either way i cut my losses early.
Dan: "Rascal needs to go out. Can i borrow your coat?"
Leah: "Sure... You can fit into my coat?
Dan: "Well, i might have trouble zipping it up, but it fits over my shoulders."
Leah: "Wow. I should lose some weight.... or you should gain some."
Dan: (to the tune of the milkshake sone) "The Pu - ppies all go out-in-the-yard..."
Leah: At least you're not thin on funk.
A few days ago, my brother turned 21. This occasion was maked by him being in Las Vegas and me neither calling him nor acknowledging his great right of passage in any way. I thought of calling him in the morning, but what with the time difference, i knew he wouldn't be awake unless he was still up from the night before. Then later in the evening i though of calling, but the probability that i would reach a drunk brother at the other end of the phone repulsed me to no end. When you think of your brother being drunk and in Las Vegas with his girlfriend, there is only a very small neuron-leap to thinking of your brother and the possibility that he might be having sex at the exact moment you want to call and wish him a happy birthday, and even if the chance is only 10-to-1, are you really willing to take that risk? I'm sure not! I will have to welcome my brother into adulthood in a fashion that involves my continued denial that he is an adult. My parents have pulled it off with me for ages!
If you'll ever speak to me again, Jake, happy birthday. Especailly considering your impending hangover, it's all down hill from here.
The puppy is still a puppy, so he stays in his little (big) crate when he's home alone. When he's in there the longest is when we're out doing exciting things like going to parties or whatnot (infrequent, yes, but it does happen), and in such cases when we come back we're tired and want to relax. Naturally, though, when he gets out of four hours of confinement the poor little puppy wants to romp and play, and when we decline to play with them he tries to play with the furniture, mostly by biting it. It can get frustrating and a little annoying, I have to say. Still, I can't blame the little guy. As long as he gets 100% of our attention, or else is sleeping, he's a great pet!
Mom: "How was your first day of school?"
Leah: "It was weird. I felt very out of place. Like, everyone knew eachother from last semester and i was the only person who didn't have anybody to talk to."
Mom: "Well, it's not like highschool where anyone gives a shit."
Leah: "I guess not. But then when the professor was asking us questions, i took out my notecards and the girl next to me glared at me like i was Hermione."
Mom: "So? You'll be the one in the class that everybody wants to study with."
Leah: "Yeah right... like THAT worked in high school."