Dog owner vs. Mother

Beware; an epidemic is on the horizon.
I may or may not have been exaggerating the above statement. In my world, there are three recent pregnancies- two good friends and two people that although they are not anything like friends they are part of my world; two friends, one acquaintance, and one co-worker who just had babies within the past six or so months, and one baby shower is in the works for another friend. Oh, and let’s not forget one of my best friends who is perpetually rumored to be with child, although she has never actually produced a baby, I have speculated she sells them on the black market after she squirts them out, but I digress.
With all of these buns on the oven, it makes me think about babies and being a mother and all the jazz, how will I be as a mom, and so on…. I will nip any wandering thoughts in the tush right here: I do not want to get pregnant right now. But, I cannot help but think about when I do have a child, and how different it will be than having a dog.
I can’t help but wonder, will my child ‘sit pretty’ and flail their arms in order to indicate they want food, like my Wolfman does? Will I feed my child dog food since I feed my dog human food?? Will I put my child on a leash? That, I suppose, is actually more normal than the other ponderings I have had….
When I think about discipline, I think how I would repeat the word sit when Wolfman would sit down, so she knew what she was doing. Then, when I would tell her to sit and she listened she got a treat. I do not want to continue this tradition with my children, my reason being twofold: one, I would go broke (hopefully) providing treats every time my child does something I asked it to; and second I am against bribing my child (but not my dog). I also give Wolfman a treat every time she goes potty or poopers, and although my child would appreciate this in their younger years, it may get a little bit awkward in the teenage years when a 15 year old comes to me, “Mommy, I went poopers, can I get my treat?” It’s already embarrassing just to type.
Potty training. When I was house training Wolfman I would take her outside about once an hour when I was able to. I think, as a basic rule of thumb, it may be a good idea to ask my child every hour or so if they need to go potty. I would also take Wolfy out 15-20 minutes after she would eat or drink, and I think taking my future child potty after they eat or drink is also a decent idea. Now, the big question is: what will I do when my child has an accident? I’m thinking it is not a top quality idea to take their diaper or undies off and rub their nose in it…but then again it could work excellently.
The dog park…I love taking Wolfman to the dog park. She can run, play, socialize, get pet by humans, basically do everything that makes her happy, while I just sit there and watch her with a smile on my face. The only equivalent I can conjure up for a child is one of those play areas at the malls, where there are lots of colored mats, plastic play toys that children can run around, through, and on top of. I, personally, hate those play areas. Granted, I am a very anxious person so the thought of my child running around with kids who may or may not be clean, on toys that are very unlikely to be clean, in a noisy area filled with rambunctious lil jerks would not make me smile. And, if my child got pet by any humans I may flip out. Same goes for Chucky Cheese or Peter Piper, it is not the same type of relaxing environment as the dog park is, instead there are multitudes of louse noises, plenty of people who look like they could steal my child, plenty of teenagers who may push my kid out of the way so they can play the game that my child is enjoying, and so many parents not paying attention to their kids that it would drive me insane.
The conclusion I have arrived at is that having offspring is not akin to having a canine creature. I do not think that having a puppy has prepared me to produce any spawn of my own, so I will continue along my life journey with Wolfman and Wolfman alone for now. I would think that many of the parents out there agree with conclusion I have drawn, and let me know how putting your child on a leash works out….
I’m out.
*side note* I have no idea who that baby is up there, but if it's your baby, thanks for the pic as it added visual stimulation to this blog. *end of side note*

Edward v. Jacob

I have always been ‘on the fence’ as they say, between Team Edward and Team Jacob. In my logical, linear brain, the only way to solve this dilemma is to do a pros vs. cons list type of thing, or in this situation, Sparkly Vampire vs. Hot Wolf.

Edward:
+ I happen to like things that sparkle, such as a clean toilet, a nice set of chompers, diamond rings, or those little blue shimmery disks on the back of a Sparkletts van.
+ Edward is super duper strong, which could come in handy when I cross life-threatening situations, such as getting attacked by a rabid elephant.
+ Edward is very educated, as illustrated by his plethora of graduation caps.
+Edward gives intense, smoldering looks that can send shivers up and down my spine, although sometimes it kinda just looks like he just has to drop a deuce.
+ Vampires have some sweet twirly-swirly jumps and badass, ninja-esque fighting moves. And they even look cool when they’re all broken like ice or porcelain.
-Edward is as cold as ice, and I get chilled easily so he would not be conducive to me staying at room temperature.
- Edward apparently likes whiny girls like Bella, who bite their lip and stare at people’s neck instead of their eyes when talking to them.
-Edward has hot brothers so it may be difficult to keep my eyes from wandering…I mean have you seen Emmitt??
-Vampires are as hard as stone, what about play wrestling?! Play fighting with a vampire will not feel too pleasant…

Jacob:
+ I am naturally drawn to his russet colored skin, it’s warm, just like the feeling in my loins when I look at him.
+ Wolves are always warm, so when he sends shivers down my spine or gives me goosebumps, he can also warm me up. I hear it’s better if we take our clothes off, survival 101.
+ Jacob is beyond passionate, a life with passion is boring, so my life with Jacob would never be lackluster.
+ Jacob looks super adorable in wolf form, he has those sweet puppy dog eyes that get ya every time.
+ Jacob is quite good with his hands *wink wink* This was displayed by his turning those hunks of scrap metal into working motorcycles…that motorcycle engine isn’t the only things he’s good at revving up.
+ Jacob has a soft heart and hard abs.
-For a while Jacob made me feel like a perv due to his ripe, young age….I don’t like feeling like a perv.
- Jacob is young, and not as wise in the ways of the world as Edward is….
- Jacob creeped me out when he imprinted on the even creepier rapid growing, probably looks like Chucky, vampire-human spawn of Bella and Edward.
- If I pissed Jacob off I would have to be concerned about him mauling my face, not cool.

For all intensive purposes, I think I am officially Team Edward. My reason is twofold: 1) Edward and Bella belong together, as Bella is his reason for existing and Bella was born to be a vampire, 2) I want Jacob for myself. As much as I <3 Edward, he is a tad bit controlling for my taste, and I like the idea of a passionate wolf boy waiting for me by his motorcycle to drive me off into his magical world.

A Zombie Clown named The Fonz

A zombie clown named The Fonz was the leading character, villainous character if you will, that starred in the motion picture illustrated and written by none other than my subconscious one night last week. Yes, yes, I am referring to a dream I had. So, I am going to paint you a vivid picture so you too can experience the horror of a zombie clown named The Fonz. I have also decided that this is one dream that is begging to be analyzed and/or interpreted, which is a feat to anticipate.

This nightmare began in Clovis, NM, which as those of you from Clovis know that the town is a small nightmare in itself at times. But, I digress and will move on to the horrific zombie clown that stalked me during a thrilling phase of REM sleep. The zombie clown known in my dream as The Fonz was an immense creature, not unlike Arnold Schwarzenegger who probably shopped at the Big and Tall store when he was a living member of society. This zombie clown also happened to have all his make-up, clown nose, clown clothes, and clown hair in grey-scale, because when you die all the vibrant colors of your face paint and wig get sucked out of your body alongside your soul. Lastly, he was a rather mean clown, and I imagine Pennywise was a close relative of his.

The reason that The Fonz was trying to kill me and munch on my flesh was never revealed, but I am certain that he fancied me dead. I was accompanied by three friends through this death-defying (for some) journey. I cannot say I can actually identify who these friends were in my real life, but they were being hunted because of me, despite our lack of intimacy with one another. The Fonz pursued us, the quartet of acquaintances, in typical zombie form with his head and torso slightly slanted to one side because his muscles were depleted, with his arms outstretched when he attempted to capture a body part, his knees barely bending and his other joints stiff and rusty, as if he needed to oil them like that stinkin’ Tin Man. He walked, or I suppose waddled is a more appropriate choice of words, after us emitting awkward yet terrifying grunting and laughing noises. (This link will lead you to learn how to walk like a zombie, in case you need further instruction: http://www.crimespreecinema.com/2010/06/walking-dead-learn-how-to-walk-like.html.)

The Fonz chased us through the neighborhoods where you would typically witness kids frolicking about in their nicely manicured lawns, or playin’ ball with their involved fathers, but today these usually joyful streets and yards were deserted and abandoned, as bare as a celebrity’s vagina. We scurried through many neighborhood streets, just out of The Fonz’s reach, before seeking a safe haven at the very delicious Bill’s Jumbo Burger. My comrades and I hurried through the doors, hurdled over the front counter into the kitchen, a couple of us snatching up a burger on the way to replenish our energy. As I turned back I saw that The Fonz was catching up to us, climbing clumsily over the cashier counter while getting sizzling, seasoned, grass-fed beef patties hurled at him, and then came the tomatoes and yellow shredded lettuce to his revolting, grey, zombie face, but The Fonz was unfazed by this because all he desired was gushy, blood-filled brains.

We then led The Fonz to a dingy local bar. My associates and I then pulled some Coyote Ugly moves inspired by Piper Perabo by jumping atop the bar and scampering across it, moving and shaking our hips (and other appendages) whilst trying to avoid the demise of the patron’s alcoholic beverages along the way. The Fonz had apparently gotten oiled up and was waddling at a rather swift pace as he was also on the bar top, a mere twenty feet from me, which meant I was a mere twenty feet from my extermination due to him devouring my brains. I stood motionless for a moment in utter shock, as I was beyond surprised at how agile this damn zombie clown was. How could he maneuver his way on top of a bar when he can barely move any of his dusty, old joints?! I soon recovered from my moment of flabbergastedness and managed to stumble out the back door of the bar by the dumpster, where I was greeted with the tangy stench of trash, puke, and other remnants of the past night, only to notice that The Fonz had consumed two of my buddies to my great dismay. I also saw my other friend, or shall I say cowardly acquaintance, peeking his head out of the dumpster, which was evidently his new hiding spot. I then realized it was me vs. The Fonz: Zombie Clown from Hell. I quickly ran through my options: Attack him using a sharp object to pierce his body and then decapitate him; or I could start scampering around in circles in hopes of confusing the dreadful creature with my circle eights and donuts, then he would get super dizzy, stumble around, and I can run away with my super-human speed. I obviously chose the second option because I am a wuss and had a deficient number of sharp objects to choose from in order to behead The Fonz. As I was fleeing I woke up, to the Wolfman barking obnoxiously.

Analysis:

Now the interpretation…I learned how interpret dreams from my high school psychology teacher. She told us to write our dream down and be as descriptive as memory will allow, and once that was done, go back through and pick out the words that really stand out to you. My words are below:

Villainous

Clovis

Immense

Vibrant

Sucked

Death-defying

Lack

Involved father (I know that’s two words, but I don’t care!)

Abandoned

Safe-haven

Replenish

Dingy

Scampering

Shock

Maneuver

Coward

Attack

Confusing

Flee

Now, once you have your words, you then think of two or three additional words that you think of when looking at the word from your description, example below:

Villainous: evil, scary. Vibrant: bright, exciting, exhilarating.

And so on. Once you have all of your supplemental words, you go through and pick one of these additional words for each of the original words you chose from the description of the dream. Then, using the chosen additional words you create a narrative, like so:

I am scared (maybe of bears attacking me, especially when I’m menstruating) because I left a place that I felt secure in (my mother’s womb). I am now feeling overwhelmed and excited with the things that are happening in my life right now (learning how to be a ninja and surfing the internet at work), but I am also scared that these new opportunities and thrills will be taken away from me and I will be left wanting them, but without them I will be, which I know would leave me scared and down in the dumps. Despite the uncertainties that linger in my mind, I know I have a protector (maybe the Wolfman?) and a place that will always make me feel safe and secure, and this gives me energy to move on (like a 5 hour energy drink), and the motivation to reach my potential and feel satiated with my life. I know that to reach the point of being satisfied I must keeping trekking (like Dora the Explorer), even if they are small steps, and that I will come across some grimy puddles of mud, but just skip over them and not be taken aback by them. Fear will accompany me at times, but I cannot let it steal my confidence like the thief that it is, I instead must hurry along to my destiny (to being a break dancing, French-speaking, nerdy, ninja who happens to enjoy crocheting while watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians).

So this is my tale of one of the worst weekends in a ridiculously long time. My mom said “I’m sorry, but you know when it rains it pours.” I love it when it rains so I didn’t like that saying, it did not comfort me in any way, so although I thank you for the great effort you put out to console me, it was an epic failure my dearest mother. It felt more like my mom should have said “Well Tara, when you get bent over and fucked in your butthole without any lubrication it hurts like a mofo.” Then I would have agreed. So, I thought I would share my weekend, because many people, including myself, find other people’s pain to be entertaining. I mean I can’t judge those who laugh at my sorrows because I read in one of my packets today that one of my kids threw a rock at a peer and he chipped the kid’s tooth! I literally LOL’d and said my kid had good aim.
So my sodomy story will start on Thursday when I start looking around on the webernet for car insurance because I was told I was paying an absurd amount of money for my car insurance. After looking around I discovered that I could save $1200 by switching to Progressive for my car insurance needs. Then, when I excitedly told my friend I realized I missed my calling in life and was deeply saddened that I had not taken the car insurance commercial career route. But, I wiped my lone tear and went about my day.
Friday started normally. Then, on my way home I called Geico to cancel my insurance policy that I had with them, since I had switched to Progressive. The Geico representative then apologized and asked how much I was saving by switching to Progressive, I proceeded to say : “$1200 a year.” She said, “Wow, that is quite a bit of money, let me look into that for you.” I listened to the soothing elevator music that calmed me during rush hour traffic, and then she got back on the phone and apologized again. She then proceeded to tell me that I was paying based on my ex’s driving record, even though I had him taken off the policy in January 2008. Now for a normal driver that may not be a huge deal, but you don’t know my ex’s driving record. I will explain: He had an extreme DUI (blew a .24), 2 speeding tickets, and one accident. His driving record was worse than watching The View. I then asked how that could be possible as I had him removed, and she replied that it must have been an oversight. Oh really??? She finally asked if there was anything Geico could do to keep my business, and I chortled and apologized but said I had no interest in being ripped off, but thanks for all your help. I wanted use that little lizard as a death star and chuck it at whoever made the minute oversight. Then I went to my mailbox which possessed this little parcel from my HOA. I opened it to find a letter that said I owe over $600 and if I do not pay in full this week they will take legal action. I was quite upset because I had never received a bill, receipt book, or anything. I was also upset because I had called 6 months ago to ask when I would be receiving my first bill, with no return phone call. I tried calling their offices but they were closed, so I would have to deal with that later as well.
Saturday I woke up early after being out until 2am, for an air conditioner guy to come fix my a/c that has been fricked up for 4 months. He did and it was only $50, which was a pleasant surprise, but hardly made up for the jewels from hell delivered the previous day. I had a hair appointment that morning- in Phoenix as usual. Just so everyone knows- I always go to Phx to get my hair done because I get cut and as many colors as I want for $50, so even with tip and gas it is usually half the cost of a good salon. So I am halfway to Phx and my damn a/c stops blowing crisp, cool air, and replaces it with musty, warm air. I did not appreciate that but I dealt with it the last 50 miles by rolling my windows down and hanging my head out the window, not unsimilar to a basset hound I suppose. I proceeded to go to my hair appointment, things went fine, and then I got into my lil shark to drive home, because I had my mom’s bachelorette party at 6pm and it was now 2pm. I started driving and it was still blowing hot air in my face, pretty much like a blow dryer on low. Then, all of a sudden cool air came back to rescue me from my sauna-esque car. I was very happy at that moment, but my bliss was stolen from me mere moments after it was given. The hot air returned to attack my face. I kept driving, once again with my windows down, hoping that would help. It did not. Right before I was at Casa Grande, the half way mark, my car started to slow down and I saw that it was overheating. I began to involuntarily slow down (but then did so on purpose) and pulled over the side of I-10 and put on my hazards, and turned my car off. I called my mom first, as I do in any situation just so she knows where I am in case I get plowed over by some car. Then I proceed to call Progressive, which makes me laugh b/c this is the first day I have insurance with them I am in need of roadside assistance already!! (Side note, I remembered my roadside assistance! Reference Scary Movie Night blog). So, I am on the phone with them for about 30 minutes when they finally say that a tow truck will be there to tow my dumb ass car to a nearby Pep Boys, but it could take up to 40 minutes for them to get to me! So I then call my mom to give her the update, and I start crying. My mother says “Why are you so upset?” I said well mom it is 100+ degrees outside and I have been sitting inside my car to make all the necessary phone calls (b/c that was the only way I could hear), and my car had black leather interior, no tinted windows, and no a/c and no water, I was told my engine is probably blown, and yesterday was a day from hell. She says to calm down it will be fine. Wow mom, you are so good at consoling me. So 39 minutes later a tow guy comes, and I asked if I could pay the difference and have him tow me to Tucson, which he agreed to. At least he was not creepy and missing teeth. I got towed to Tucson which took almost an hour and a half (it is normally a 45 minute drive), was an hour late to my mom’s bachelorette party that I had planned, and was utterly exhausted.
That was my story, just to follow up- I did need a new engine. Whoopty friggin doo. But I make myself feel better knowing that I am saving $1200 a year my switching my car insurance to Progressive.

Slasher movie night

What a fuckin start to a trip to my wonderful hometown of Clovis, NM.

So, as the story would go, or as you will hear it, it starts off on a dark and stormy night…

Not! But really this is a slasher movie style night, and I am kinda amazed I walked out alive. Shall I begin??

Well, it all started when after working for 12 hours straight, then packing, I decided to leave lovely Tucson, at 10pm, for Las Cruces, knowing I had gotten a mere two and half hours of sleep the night before. Don’t be confused, the night I had was totally worth the loss of sleep, but, I am not able to say that I was in the right mindset to 1) make any type of decision at that point, much less the decision to drive at night on that much sleep, or 2) actually make the three and a half hour drive to Cruces. But, no matter any of that, I did both of the above, still going off my high (not literally) from the previous night, and my more recent high from having induced myself into a caffeine coma, beginning with two iced teas at lunch, 3 sodas at work, a cappuccino from circle k, and a cherry coke for the road….

So, now the fun commences. I start driving. I make it about 45 minutes before I wake up to me swerving off the road towards the ditch. Not exactly a good situation to find yourself in. So, I pull over almost immediately. It was a small gas station, one like you would find in a movie that has a small town and one gas station in that whole town. There wasn’t even a convenience store attached, more like a run down building that used to house something creepy that nobody actually ever saw. It also had one fluorescent light, which, (sigh) of course, had to be flickering on and off. I knew I needed to rest my poor little ojos…so I turned my car off, put my keys in my right hand and my cellular device in my left hand. I also made the decision to put a blanket over my whole body, in hopes to appear inconspicuous. But, that blanket was a neon orange camouflage blanket. And, if that was bad enough, I also had my dear Shih Tzu with me, walking all around inside the car. So, despite my attempts to not be noticed, I am sure it was quite obvious that I was in my car sleeping. I awake 20 minutes later, no harm done to me, my pup, or my car. I start my car and drive off on I-10 towards my destination.

I drive another 45 minutes or so, until I am just outside of Lordsburg. Once again I find myself driving and sleeping, concurrently. Once again I think to myself that is not a good thing to be doing. So, huh, once again I decide to pull over. This time it was one of the rest stops that the interstate boasts about with little blue and white signs. Natasha (my Tiburon’s name) is the only car parked there, but on the other side there are 7 semi-trucks, all with their drivers sleeping soundly. I get out, let Wolfy piss on the ground, and then I decide to use the facilities, only out of necessity, not out of choice. I open the door and immediately regret having drunk so much, because I get freaked the fuck out. Out of sheer instinct I immediately being looking under all the stalls to make sure nobody is in any of them. I left the door to my stall wide open, so the killer who was gonna end my life couldn’t knock me out with the door or shut me and leave me with no escape route. I also hover over the toilet, my reason being twofold: one is, ew, disgusting! The next is I want to be able to launch myself from the seat and run if I had to…that scary, really!

I did not meet my masked murderer in the bathroom, so I get back into my car to take a lil nappy-poo.

Just a warning, the next part of this story may make people mad, because it will seem like I was being stupid, but in reality, I had very logical reasons for every decision I made, they just backfired like a bitch. So I get into my car to sleep, it was beyond needed at this point. So I decide to leave the keys in the ignition in case my murderer was to come up and knock on my window before trying to force himself into my car, then I could start Natasha and drive off and everyone would praise me for being so smart! I tried to sleep but kept hearing creepy sounds, maybe in my head but either way I heard them and that’s all that mattered at that point. So, I turned my keys to the on position, just so I could hear my music and not creepy noises (insert sighs and groans and thoughts of thinking that was stupid of me….I know, I deserve it…go on…). I did however, (this is my reason) set my alarm to wake me up in 20 minutes, so my car won’t die!! (I thought about it too….!)

Unfortunately, my festivities from the night before that stole my sleep came back to haunt me and I slept right thru that alarm….for an hour and twenty minutes!!!!!! EEEK!!

Needless to say Natasha died on me during my slumber. I awoke, realized what time it was, and tried to start my car, to no avail. I then decided to walk by all the semi trucks, once again ready for my murderer to pop out from under one of the trucks and slice my throat. I mean, c’mon, I’m at a rest stop outside a small ass town in the middle of nowhere at 2 in the morning, this little guera, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a 10 pound dog, could it get any more stereotypical murder-movie like?? Really really doubt it. I walk about a blocks distance to the Chevron across the way that is all lit up and had a car with lights on top of it. Yay!!! ‘A nice someone to help poor lil ol’ me’ I thought!! As Wolfy and I walk up, there are huge black roaches, literally two inches long and two inched tall- they were on fuckin roids for real!! Wolfy is even scared of them. And of course there has to be one of those hanging bug zapppers with the neon light that goes “BZZZIT” when a brainless bug flies into the light! Creepy! I get up to the car with lights only to discover, to my dismay, that it was (a real car but) part of a lil scene set up thingy, like a small town scene by the gas station. How annoying was that at this point. Also, all the lights in the gas station were on but the sign said closed. I did not knock for fear that Chucky or Jason would jump out and chop my head off. I get mad and start walking back to my car.

A maroon Corolla drives up to the Chevron so I turn my ass around and walk back. I explain to them (a man and woman, about 40ish) that my car is dead, and asked if they would mind jumping my car. They spoke broken English but understood me. The man said he didn’t have room in the back seat but would meet me at my car. I told them I didn’t want a ride anyways, I’d rather walk, but just to follow me to my car. He said okay, and started driving behind me. So as I turn to go towards my car, the fucker turns in the opposite direction and got on the fuckin freeway. The bastard left me, stranded, at 2am!!!! So I am fuming now, walking back to my car. I tried to start it once again, surprise surprise, with no luck. I walk by the semi’s again, almost hoping someone would jump out just so I could ask them to help me... “Do you have a car where you store the rest of your bloody knives or ropes to hang people with so I could try to resuscitate my car?” I see a few more cars act like they are going to go to the beloved Chevron but they keep turning onto the freeway instead. This whole time I keep walking back and forth by the semi’s hoping one of the cars will see me and pull over or a truck driver will feel my presence and wake up and offer their assistance.

Within 30minutes of the Corolla leaving, two pimped out cars, a black Mustang and a white Tahoe, pull up to the Chevron. I walk my ass over there, adorable lil dog in hand (her flat face makes it hard for her to walk a lot so I had to start carrying her!). I tell them my story, car dead, got left, yada yada yada…. And once again they speak little English, but they understand me. In the Mustang is a man and woman and the Tahoe housed three dudes, surely I could have some luck with these guys…. The mustang man asks if I have cables. Yes I do and I know how to work them, all I need is 10 minutes of your time please sir…in jumps his wife, with an emphatic NO. Uh, what? Excuse me? No, I ask? “Uh, ya we have a digital computer screen in the car and if we jump yours it will mess it up.” Huh, I was pretty sure that Ford wouldn’t make a car that couldn’t be jumped…but what the fuckever….. All the while the three fuckers in the Tahoe listen and go “Huh…” and that’s it. All of the fuckfaces drive off….with me and my small ass dog standing by the road at 3am, royally pissed the fuck off.

Now you can get really mad….as I walk back, kinda hoping Chucky would kill my ass, I remember I have roadside assistance. ARGH!!!!!! So I call them and within 20 minutes a man in his 60’s, missing his two front teeth (not joking) jumps my car. Wouldn’t it have been funny if he was my murderer?? HAHAHA….well there is my slasher movie story…I then proceeded to drive, without falling asleep, to Las Cruces. The whole thing took me almost 6 hours…almost twice the time it should have.

Point of the story…just remember roadside assistance!