When you sleep among train tracks.
I spend a lot of my time with a little boy and a little dog, and we mix it up together with this and that.
Sometimes a little bit of the other.
I am very fond of throwing open the blinds as far and wide as they will go when the sun comes out to play at this time of year. I am not a fan of being cold and gray. I need light and warmth and vibrance or I forget how to breathe.
The dog is very, very fond of sleeping in puddles of sun on the carpet. (I have to admit that I am, too.)
What he did not realize, however, is that if one chooses to sleep among the train tracks of the little boy, one gives up all rights not to be built upon.
I was the foreman, looking on and supervising. I must confess that I felt this was a questionable choice of foundation.
But the builder, the artist, had a vision, and he followed through.
The foundation was kind of not interested in allowing the vision to be realized.
In fact, the foundation was all, “I am utterly displeased with the choice of building materials and deeply disturbed that nobody found it necessary to request my permission to build on these grounds. Oh and I’m definitely thinking of peeing on something you like as a form of revenge.”
But the little boy builder was not going to give up so easily, and quickly went for a second try at his plan once the foundation had resettled.
But the foundation was all, “Uh. No.”
He had other things in mind.
The little boy was unsure of how to proceed.
But then the builder decided he was really always meant to be a masseuse, and a compromise was reached.
And everyone was happy.
Which, when laying in puddles of sunny carpet among train tracks, is really not all that surprising.
Who needs a dishwasher?
Just get yourself a handy-dandy lush dawg.
The Mexican. He is, additionally, good for floor cleaning, table begging, child entertainment, barking at nothing, and being an all-around loveable doofus.
(And I only want to microwave him sometimes. Really.)
He kind of looks like a hopped up pill freak.
- At February 25, 2009
- By Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom
- In Video
23
This is… well. I may be the only one who thinks it’s funny.
John and I ate on the floor several days ago. The Mexican placed himself right in front of us and… well, if you could totally freak out in a very contained way for fear that non-contained freaking out would get you sent to your bed or outside in the cold?
This is what it would look like.
My favorite is the way he pokes his tongue out all of a sudden.
PS: Yes, I ate on the floor just to torture him.
More Questions, With Answers! Woohoo!
Going to be doing some stuff and thingies this week, in different places and locations. Heh.
So, busy busy busy, go go go, this that and the other = I’ll be Away From Keyboard a LOT.
To keep all of You Wonderful People entertained and amused, I’ll be slinking a little away from Lazy Douchedom again this week by FINALLY answering more of the questions you asked forever ago!
Then, later, I’ll also be asking YOU some questions. So get ready, my pretties.
Previous Posts Containing Answers:
Answers to “food-based” questions
Second installment of answers
Today’s Installment:
Dawn asked: “If you could snap your fingers and change one part of your body, what would it be?”
Well, if you had asked me that as a child, my IMMEDIATE response would have been,”My ears.” I got made fun of A LOT for my ears.
Being called “Dumbo” was not unheard of.
Bastards.
A year ago, I’d have asked for someone to zap my Muffin-op away.
But bah. I’m pregnant now, so the Muffin-Top is just providing the rounded-out icing on top of my bulbous cake of a belly. Yay and shi.
What I’d really like is thinner, smoother thighs. The junk in my trunk I can handle, but I HATES DEM OLE JELLY LEGS.
******
Kat asked: “What do you want to be when you grow up (you know, figuratively speaking, who wants to grow up anyway!)”
When I was a little kid (yes, I’m going to start off that way again) I wanted to be an astronaut. AND a ballerina. Yes, at the same time. And, uh, I TOTALLY could have done either or both, but I changed my mind. So there.
Years ago, I thought I wanted to be a research psychologist and professor. I burned out on that idea in Grad School. Oh, Grad School, how I look back at you with much fear and loathing.
Nowadays, I’m focusing more on how I can make today and tomorrow better for my family and myself, and less on “when I’m all grown up.” And busy learning that might be the best thing for me mentally. And maybe partly because of my tendency to be in denial about my aging in the first place. 
******
Katie Ann asked: “What made you choose a chihuahua?”
Honestly? I HAVE NO IDEA. I have always thought Chihuahuas are HORRIBLE little pests of dogs! That they are annoying and really begging to be kicked across the room at any given moment.
And you know what? I WAS RIGHT.
Heh. Okay, the little jerk IS cute. And sometimes he doesn’t suck.
******
Veronica asked: “When are you going to fly over and visit me?”
Tomorrow, Honey. Better get your ass to the airport and pick me up. With chocolates in hand.
I WISH! *muah*
******
Marylin asked: “Hmm, where and what would you do in your dream holiday?”
Anywhere I can Sleep. Sleep. Sleeeeep. SleeeeeEEEP. SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
And have wine. Chocolate. Cheese.
Then more sleep.
See? I’m easy.
******
That’s it for today! Stay tuned for more… and be ready to answer my questions, too. 
Welcome back, Pee-Dog!
If you’ve been reading here for awhile, you know that we have a small rat fur-pest dog – a lil’ Chihuahua whose name is Zack, but who we lovingly refer to as “The Mexican.”
Like Braden, he survives in our household because he is very, very cute.
But his cuteness could not surpass the high level of vomiticousness that was his constant need to piss on everything we own. Over and over again we tried to be patient and train him, to no avail. When we moved again, we decided to try living Pee Free.
Collective “Awwwww, poor little thing!”
Yeah, your life wasn’t Urine-Rageous.
And yet, as the cold weather came upon us recently, my cold, black coal of a heart softened and grew, much like The Grinch’s.
And The Mexican didn’t even have to sing an obnoxious song.
Oh wait! YES HE DID. He started howling and yipping outside constantly.
Another collective, “Awwwww!”
So the Furniture Pissing…
Poop Eating…
Jerk-Faced Dog has somehow made it back into our home full time.
So far, he’s doing well. We’ll see how it goes.
Of course, Braden LOVES him and is delighted to have him inside.
And that’s what REALLY keeps him alive.
Otherwise, I’d have nuked him long ago.
Bunch of Lazy Douches.
Today’s Photohunt Theme is “Lazy”
I swear, everyone around here’s lazy but me…
The Dog
The Boy
The Man
What? Stop looking at me like that. I’m NEVER lazy.
(Just sarcastic.)
Hint: It Ain’t The Frog
“One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong! Can you tell which one is not like the others by the time – I – finish – this – song?”
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