I Have Comment Envy

How come everyone comments at PetuniaFacedGirl and no one comments here?

Don't pretend you didn't make your way here from there.

Comment, bitches.

My husband's awesome blog, theracemonkey.com, has the same non-commentary issue. As does the awesomeness that is anawesomeaday.blogspot.com.

Really, what is wrong with you people? Have you NOTHING to say?

I am so jealous of Susannah and her nasty Anonymous cat-calling comments.

Say SOMETHING. Say ANYTHING (insert photo of John Cusack with boombox over head).

Random Thoughts

• Is Anderson Cooper really gay? Because, goddam he's cute.
• Anne Heche. Seriously. What's up with that? I'd love to have lunch with her just once so I could ask her about the aliens.
• Do you use your parking brake? I totally don't. Do you have to live in San Francisco for this to be a real issue?
• Mafia Wars on Facebook. Why am I obsessed?
• Dave Letterman. Clinton before that. I was an intern once - how come the boss didn't want to fuck me??
• Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka. If you haven't had it, run out and buy it. Now.
• Am I the only one that seriously thinks that Depends are a good idea on an almost daily basis?
• Yon Ka. Best skin care line ever.
• Thanks to TMZ, I now know Oprah's middle name. It's Gail. Kinda creepy because that's her best friend's name. (It's official. I know way too much about Oprah.)
• If you're not following John Mayer on Twitter, you're totally missing out.

See Chelsea??

See how behind I am?

I need a suggestion for my next post!

Puppy Chow

Oh, that's. Just. Awesomely. Bad.

see more Fail Blog

The Thing(s) Is(are)

I can't sleep.

I'd call it Insomnia, but I can't help but suspect it's my alarming lack of a schedule.

Always been this way. I remember tottering out blurry-eyed in my cotton Strawberry Shortcake nightgown. Dad watching 10 o'clock news would say to me "then stay up all night" when clearly I was hoping for a glass of water or a bedtime story. His throw-off was much more wildly successful. Damn. Might as well sleep. Or stare at the ceiling.

I am pudgy.

And I know this is because most nights I cannot sleep. So I stay awake with wine and one 100-calorie-pack after another until I have consumed 1,000 calories. Easily. Maybe more.

So here it is: 1:00 a.m. That's a lot of colons, my friends. And what do I do with all of those when the alarm goes off at 6:45 am? Snooze, snooze, snooze bar.

I decided to take up smoking (this week) in hopes that I would stop eating and start puffing instead at 1:00 am, forgetting that the nicotine high makes me... well... high. Which is not conducive to sleep.

I have this dumb ass National meeting in Orlando next month and I got it in my head that I would lose all this weight and be fabulous for it. But, instead, here I am. 1:00 am. Red wine and 100-calorie-pack.

Have you seen that show "Obsessed" on A&E? Oh, I highly recommend it, though it is not for the squeamish. Toothbrushes and rectums and all. (Rectum real good, Johnny).

Still, I wonder if I should find me a local cognitive behavior therapist who will fix my naughties. 1:00 am and wine and 100-calorie-packs and do you know how much I bite my nails? Constantly, even in important meetings to close the deal when I know the client is looking at me like, "What is with this chipmunk in my conference room?"

It's like heroin, this wine, calorie pack, cuticle addiction of mine. But it is mine. Mine all mine.

And who out there doesn't have vices? I ask you.....

What IS The Matter with Kansas?

Fuck you, Scott Roeder.

Fuck you and all your friends and your fucktarded religion.

Let me get this straight: Abortion is wrong because The Bible states "Thou Shalt Not Kill". In fact, it's one of them there "Commandments". The last time I checked, those weren't exactly optional.

Thou Shalt Not Kill. And this "abortion doctor", George Tiller, he was killing babies. I get it, I get it. Some may argue that this "murder" was up for interpretation, but I understand your angle, Scott. I'm scooping what you're pooping.

So, this guy is killing and you can't kill. Ergo, the only rationale is to kill. Kill the killers! Kill the killers and then you're...not...a...killer?

Fucktarded!

Now, we watch the other Christian fucktards on CNN. With their picket signs "Abortion is Murder" and "God Bless Tiller's Killer". Cuz that makes sense.

What if those babies that The Baby Killer killed grew up to be a Baby Killers? Then wasn't The Baby Killer doing a good thing by killing babies? Wasn't it God's Work then?

What do you mean that doesn't make sense? It makes just as much logical sense as the swill you fucktards are swilling!

Here's my fervent wish: That all this nonsense that I think is nonsense isn't nonsense. And Scotty boy goes up to the pearly gates sitting on a big fluffy cloud and walks (floats?) up to Saint Peter with his golden clipboard. And he proudly tells Saint Peter that he did God's work and eradicated The Baby Killer. And then Saint Peter looks down at his list and says...

"What part of Thou Shalt Not Kill didn't you understand? Fucktard."

I'll Be Seeing You

In December of last year, I wrote a post about our dog.

I began it with the statement that I was heartbroken. But, no. I was wrong. NOW I am heartbroken.

The Poochie of My Heart is gone. Dead.

Just when she had turned the corner. Just when she had become our baby girl's best friend, best playmate.

Something got her.

It started out with a few scratches on her ear. Then the scratches got red, so I made a vet appointment. Then just a few hours later, fever and an abcess.

Then surgery, IV antibiotics, sepsis, blood transfusion, pulmonary embolysm, and cardiac failure.

We called her The Tank because she was so indestructible. Chasing tennis balls full speed into concrete walls. Eating bees and railroad ties like they were dainty petit fors.

When the vet called and said she was failing, that there was less than a 2% chance she would survive and even if she did he couldn't say what she would be... like... my god, how I howled.

I must have said the word "no" a hundred times. A thousand times. It just wasn't possible.

My husband rushed to the vet to say goodbye, but when he got there she was already gone. He called me on his cell phone to tell me. Standing next to her, clutching her fur, he told her again and again how sorry he was. How sorry we were that we couldn't save her.

The guilt overwhelmed me at first. The guilt that I had considered giving her away, that I had ever shouted at her or cursed her, that I didn't clean her scratches well enough or call the vet soon enough, that I didn't love her enough, that I couldn't fix it all.

I scurried to remove traces of her before my husband could return from the vet. Her beds, her toys, her dishes all dumped hurriedly into an empty diapers box. I re-arranged the furniture to conceal the marks from her crate. I'm not sure what I thought I would erase.

It's like that old song...

I'll be seeing you

In all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces

All day through.

I swear I hear the clink of her collar, a yawn, toenails on the tile floor. The other night, stumbling back into bed after checking on the baby, a shadow lay across my covers and quietly, without thinking, I said "Move, Katie." She always loved the warm spot we left behind on the sheets. "Move, Katie," I said quietly aloud before the shadow became just a shadow.

I'll find you

In the morning sun

And when the night is new.

It is amazing to me the impact that pets have on our lives. How they curl up in the warmest chambers of our hearts and wait for a biscuit. In the first days, I vowed I would never get another dog because I could not stand to take the pain again; it was too raw and jagged. And I was almost embarassed that I could give so much of my heart away to a damn dog who never could behave decently in public.

But as days have passed, and I grow used to the quiet of the house, I think only of the joys she brought to our life: the kisses, the snuggles, the play, the laughter. And I realize with a shuddering jolt that it is only a matter of time before another dog comes skittering into our life.

Katie, if you didn't already know it, and god I hope you did, we loved you very very much. Thank you for all you brought into our lives. I will never ever forget you.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.