Froggy went a courtin’

Okay, so I know I’ve done a total disappearing thing with this blog, but really I have been writing, just not here. Sorry..but not, like super sorry, because:

  1. Only about 20 people read this, so really it’s no big deal.
  2. I’m pretty sure that not one of those 20 people are losing sleep over me not posting.

So the man-of-the-house and I were out in the backyard last night because the dogs were acting suspicious in an area near one of the flowerbeds. As any dog owner knows that means it’s time to go out and see if they’d found some fun dead thing to roll in or fun half-dead thing to torture to death and then roll in.

We took a flashlight and were carefully shining where we were stepping as we picked our way across the grass (any dog owner also knows why we were walking carefully…actually anybody who’s been in the backyard of a dog owner knows why…see how skillfully I managed not to use the words dog shit and yet you knew exactly what I was talking about, right?) Anyway, you can see from the photo what we discovered on our way to the flowerbed. *

I have 3 things to say about this.

  1. Finding this in my backyard was the most amusing thing that happened to me all weekend. And yes, that’s exactly how lame I am.
  2. When hubby and I happened across these two toads in-the-act last night, I said, “I wish I had my phone so I could take a picture.” Then he said, “I have my phone,” to which I replied, “And you’re not taking a picture right now?” That’s how lame he is.
  3. When you ask people, “Would you like to see some toad p0rn?” it’s been my experience that they always, always immediately lean over to look at the photo on your phone. That’s how lame we all are. **

* We found nothing in the flowerbed, in case you were wondering, but probably you weren’t because you’re still looking at the hot, sexy toad-sex photo.

** When people lean over to look at toad-p0rn on your phone, it’s very important to start making “bowchickawowow” sounds so that they can fully can fully enjoy the moment.

Okay, well I know that you guys are expecting some really obnoxious animal sex video…and don’t think I wasn’t tempted. But, I’ve decided that I’m much too classy for that. So instead I’ll give you this extremely classy video….

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no no na-neti pot

First of all, I want everyone to know that photo is not me–it is one I found on google images. And second of all, is it just me, or is the water running out of this woman’s nose only the second most disturbing thing about the picture?

Even though they are killing people right and left, my husband likes his neti pot. (And by likes I mean it helps his allergies–I am not insinuating that he enjoys it. Although if that were true, the therapy he would need would make a really awesome blog post.) Anyway, since he thinks it works, I decided to give it a try (with distilled water and my own little pot–yes we’ve been married almost 30 years but I’m not sticking his nettipot up my nose).

The following is my unbiased review of the Neti pot. I’m pretty sure consumer reports would pay good money for this, and you’re getting it for free, so…you’re welcome.

I tried it twice (I know…I am stupid that way) and I hate it. Hate. It.

Of course, to be honest, the results were mixed. Mixed as in it works fine one direction–right nostril to left if you must know–but in the other direction, rather than coming out my right side, the water rushes up into my sinuses and starts down my throat. Now, after enough coughing and gagging it will eventually drip slowly out the right side, but by then it’s too late. I’ve already told anyone who’ll listen where the WMDs are hidden.*

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it was all bad. For the next several hours anytime I leaned over I’d get the interesting little surprise of water pouring out of my right nostril. There’s some amusement to be had with that (and the fact that I feel that way should tell you just how easily I’m amused.) I kinda kept wishing that some little kid would come and annoy me so I could pin him down and lean over his face–it would have been even grosser than the spit thing.

Some of you will say that I was neti potting incorrectly somehow, and I suppose that certainly could be true. But I promise you that I read the directions very carefully. I’m weird that way when I’m considering doing something that can be deadly and sounds exactly like something a group of seven year old boys would think was a good idea. (Hey, I know, let’s pour water up our noses! Yeah!) The blame, I’ve decided, is my septum. I’ve been told by doctor that it’s deviated (aren’t they all?). So it’s not my fault; it’s just that my nose dresses left.

I know from experience that there are some people who probably should never try to stand on slippery boards and go fast down an icy mountain. I am now amending that to add that there are some people who should never attempt to pour salt water up their nose. I am simply not neti-capable. If God had meant for me to have salt water up my nose he would have arranged for me to be on a beach vacation right now instead of waterboarding myself over my bathroom sink.

I’m betting that all of you are worried hoping that I’m going to post a video of me trying to drown myself over my sink, but you’re wrong. Not that I wouldn’t post it if I had it–even I think it would probably be too awesomely funny to keep to myself–but I didn’t record it and I am NOT going to stick that thing up my nose again just for the sake of art. Fuck art. Instead I’m posting a video that a friend put on facebook, because it’s smart and has important ideas and will perhaps counterbalance the rest of this dumb post.**

——-

*The only Weapons of Mass Destruction at my house are apparently hidden inside my dog, Stella. She deploys them to deadly effect when it’s nearing her dinner time and occasionally if my hubby and I laugh too loudly while watching Jon Stewart.

**I just realized that this blogpost is long, and the video is long which makes this whole thing like an endurance event. If you manage to finish it all, maybe it will be something you can brag about to your friends. Or not.

okay, this is random but…

Way back in the day (which was just a few weeks ago because this is a pretty new blog) I wrote about submitting a sex scene to my critique group and titled the post: “how do you spell awkward…”

So, when I look at my blog statistics, the top searches that have brought someone to my blog are:

  • “how do you spell awkward”  Bravo!
  • “how do you spell akward”  Close, but no cigar
  • “how do you spell aquward”  Creative, but no ciguarre
  • “nit pickers”   I don’t remember saying nit pickers in a post, but I guess I did.
  • and then this: “They don’t need me anymore.” I had this in a post talking about my kids’ ages, so it wasn’t really sad when I used it. But, I’m a little bummed when I imagine somebody typing that into google and hitting enter.

Anyway, I feel a little bad about the awkward post fooling all those people into thinking I’m some spelling site. (Anyone who knows me knows how funny that is.) So I thought, I should change that title but my very next thought was, What if that lowers my blog visitor number...

Pitiful, right?

Actually, I think I’m going to start titling all my posts what I perceive to be common google searches. Like:

  • What are the symptoms of gonorrhea   I was going to write STDthatrhymeswithdiarrhea instead of gonorrhea, but that would be pussying out, right?
  • Where can I find free gay rhymeswithcorn  Okay, I am pussying out.
  • Where can I find free straight rhymeswithcorn   Meow.
  • How come if someone wanted to name a town in Louisiana “Nackadish” they spelled it “Natchitoches”  Okay, that one’s probably not a top search, but I really would like to know.

And, just because I’ve got a feline theme going here and everyone loves kittens and apples, and so having a video that features both kittens and apples will surely result in some enormous swell of visitors, I give you this:

are they really deaf…or just so crazy?

So about my neighbors…

Are they really deaf or just so crazy in love with their giant dog that they don’t notice that he barks a lot. A LOT! A LOT!

Sigh.

Now I have some friends who are Buddhists (internet & email friends, not local friends because finding a Buddhist here in small-town East Texas is even harder than finding a fellow Democrat) and these friends would tell me that all suffering is caused by desire.

I admire these friends and their calm, zenny wisdom. In fact I’m willing to cede the point; my suffering is not in fact caused by the barking. It is caused by my desire that the dog take a fucking break once in awhile.

Between meditation sessions* I have toyed with the idea of leaving a note on their porch…not a mean note exactly, I’m no David Thorne. Perhaps a nice little note. Maybe one along the lines of:

.

Dear neighbor,
You have a beautiful dog. Have you noticed that he barks A LOT! A LOT! A LOT?
Sincerely,
Someone who really likes dogs, but also likes to sleep at night. Ohmmmmmm….

.

Of course, I must remember that it could be worse…**

.

*  In the interest of full disclosure I must confess that my meditation practice exists only as one of those things I “ought” to do. Like exfoliating or eating yellow vegetables. 

**  In the interest of even fuller disclosure I must confess that I’m pretty sure my subdivision has a zero goat tolerance, so the following situation is not a realistic depiction of a “worse” that could actually “be”. But it’s damn hard to find a way to segue to a video of a goat who sings like Usher. And this, my friends, cheers me up like meditating never has…

double toad…what does it mean?

This week on two separate occasions we have found a toad in our bedroom (and yes, we removed the toad the first time, so it’s not like we’re keeping a toad in our room for some reason).

Sure the bedroom door is close to the back door I use to take the dogs out before bed. Sure we live near a creek and there are lots of toads in the yard. Sure, I suppose a wily toad could slip in when I opened the door to step in or out.

But twice? Two toads?

It leads me to wonder… Double Toad… What does it mean?

And if you’re thinking “huh?” right now, then I leave you with this essential cultural meme:  (you’re welcome.)

of desky-feng shui and pee

Well today I moved my desk to face away from the wall–a big improvement. I spent too many hours with my nose in the corner in Mrs. Goodwin’s first grade class to be at my happiest and most creative staring at a wall.

Then, not an hour later I discovered that one of my dogs (I won’t name any names stella) peed in my studio. I suppose I have no forensic evidence that it was her, but over the years I have come to understand that she is the dog with the most flexible interpretation of the concept, housebroken. I wish I knew what goes on in that tiny smooth lemon-brain of hers that would make her pee on a rubber mat rather than go out through the dog door (an equal distance from her dogbed) and pee where I’m pretty sure she knows she’s supposed to.

I’m not into assigning human motives to animal behavior but if I were, I would say that she was feeling a little neglected and bitchy plus the studio stinks of turpenoid and that can’t be fun for someone with a nose a million times more sensitive than mine. Or maybe she was just in the mood for indoor plumbing today, which I find irritating, but understandable.

After all, I’m always in that mood.