Dear Ridiculous Woman Walking Her Ugly Dog,

Please don't give me dirty looks when I walk by you. My dog and I were simply trying to enjoy the sunshine on our little walk. You saw us a half a mile away. You stopped walking, turned around, and watched us coming toward you and that tangled rat you call a dog.

You refused to move. For absolutely no reason, you chose to discontinue your walk, stand right there in the middle of the trail and wait the ten minutes it took us to catch up to you. You had a horrified look in your eye. You saw my beast walking toward you and you were petrified but you did not move. I could tell five hundred feet away that you were convinced he was going to attack you. You saw his razor sharp teeth, and you waited for them!

You glared at me as we approached. You pulled your dogs leash, called him closer, and never broke eye contact with my ferocious killer. The closer you got, the more your hands trembled, the bigger the sweat drops on your forehead.

As we passed you, you mumbled something in a shaky voice and glared at me with lasers shooting out your eyes. My dog eyeing yours. Your dog smelling his own ass.

I completely understand if you are afraid of large dogs, sharp teeth, being eaten alive. I understand that not everyone will find my dog cute and cuddly. I also understand that if you had half a brain, you would not stand and wait for the creature of your nightmares to approach you. You chose to stand there and wait TEN MINUTES for us to catch up to you and then you had the nerve to give ME dirty looks!?!? My dog is fairly well behaved and honestly couldn't have cared less about you. He was slightly intrigued by your dog, but he also finds piles of shit quite entertaining, so I wouldn't be too proud of your pooch. He didn't, however, try to eat your face. So get over it. You have every right to dislike my dog's breed, or hair length, or drool. But if you are not fond of him, please don't stand there and wait for us, only to give me the death stare....just keep walkin!

Sincerely,
The lady who's dog is much much more handsome

Disclaimer.... None of the photographs used in this blog actually depict my dog, or the other dog in said situation. After many failed attempts to get Rosco to make a "fierce" face to the camera, I decided it was best to use stunt doubles for dramatic effect. He does not really look like a bear or a monster. In the future, I will leave the "fierceness" to Tyra.

Rosco wants you all to know that he is in fact a very sweet, very mellow young man who has never once in his life shown his teeth to anyone but the dentist. He's also wishing that his mom would quit blogging. Right now.

Dr. 80260

Yesterday, Shawn and I went to the Salvation Army for 50% off day. (which is the best day ever, by the way) We were pretty disappointed in the selection though. In the past, this particular store has been quite promising when it comes to amazing deals. If you don't believe me, ask the $3000 armoir holding my television...that cost me $108. Yesterday, however, was not as impressive. There were no designer clothes, no high end night stands, no diamonds in coat pockets. Very sad. There were however some interesting shirts. Now, let me just preface by saying, I absolutely loath people who wear those cheesy hats and leather jackets that display which outrageous gas guzzling sports car they drive. The girls that stroll through the airport with their pastel pink Ferrari caps make me want to puke. But, I understand that they feel their car is a status symbol, and they are trying to let everyone, who may not be lucky enough to see them pull into valet, know that they are rich. Tacky, yes, but I suppose it serves their purpose.

I don't, however, understand these declarations...

I don't know if you can tell by the low quality photos here, but these shirts were quite worn. I'm so confused.

While I was photographing ridiculous bedazzling, Shawn was off making a discovery of his own.

He now lives in our home. Shawn couldn't be happier.

Deo for his BO

So, my dog is kinda stinky. Not like over the top, smellin like poop, nasty ass dog smell. Just like a slight hint of dry mud. I suppose dry mud is actually just dirt. But if I said he smelled like dirt, you might think he smells like potting soil or something, and I don't want you to be confused and think my dog smells like he's been sprayed with fertilizer....because he doesn't. He just smells like he went for a stroll through a field that was comprised mostly of a substance that was once mud.

Now, I know what you are thinking. "Give him a bath!" But its not that easy. My little puppy weighs a hundred pounds. He knows this. He also knows that he is stronger, and sometimes smarter than myself. Further more, he knows that in order for me to give him a bath, I need his cooperation. And this dog is not a fan of taking a bath. Its nearly impossible for me to pick him up and put him in the tub. When I try, he wiggles and squirms his way out of my arms. If I get a good grip and he can't break free, he begins to scream. "A dog screaming?", you say?? Yes, screaming. A full on, high pitched, someone just hit this woman in the face with a pot of boiling water, screaming. I try to block it out and continue the battle. I try to hurry and get his big ass into the tub before the neighbors call the police in an attempt to save the poor woman being slaughtered in the bathroom. On the rare occasion that I actually win the fight and get him in the bathtub, he completely submits. We will have the fight of all fights inches away from the edge of the tub, but once he's in the tub, he totally chills out and says "Shit this ain't so bad! Bring on the bubbles." (I apologize for my dog's poor grammar. He does it to rebel.) After his bath, he parades around the house, showing everyone just how amazingly beautiful he is and how wonderful he smells.

Now, as hard and stressful and ridiculous and tear inducing the entire bathing process is...it is much worse when Rosco decides to be an obnoxious smart ass. The day after I went through the awfully painful process of giving this man a bath, he decides to remind me that the pain was all his doing. He reminded me that bathing him would be simple as pie if it weren't for him and his immense strength and power. He likes to rub it in my face that he controls the show. "How does he possibly do this?", you ask? By entering the bathroom while I put on my makeup, walking right past me, and calmly climbing into the tub. He turns around to face me, stares me down for a few moments while wagging his tail, and then hops out of the tub and exits the room. Like "Bitch please, I take baths when I want to take baths. Period."

So, if you come over, and pet my dog, and a small dust cloud floats off his back, please don't judge. Sympathise. Understand. Appreciate the pain I go through. And if you still think he smells, please, please take that ass hole to your house and give him a bath. Please.

Blue Nips

About a month ago, I heard that the Virgin records store downtown is going out of business and will soon be closing their doors. Shawn and I headed over immediately to buy cds for a nickle, t-shirts for a piece of gum....you know, typical sales when a store goes out of business. When we got there, we quickly realized that stores won't actually trade a t-shirt for a piece of gum. Well, at least Virgin records won't. Instead, they had a small bin of cds near the door listed for the low, low price of ten dollars. Everything else was just as overpriced and annoying as always. Honestly, you couldn't even tell the store would be closing anytime soon....until you walked to the very, very back. There, behind the rack of cheesy rockstar messenger bags and spikey metal wristbands, was a graveyard of manequins. Row after row of jutting collar bones and oddly missing penises.

And leading these naked torsos, were two lovely ladies, who appeared to be quite smitten with one another. Judging by her blue nipple, I would guess one of these ladies might not be a Virgin manequin afterall. I'd be willing to bet there's a Hot Topic in the Denver area missing this lass.

I just thought I would let you know that the closing of this store will most likely not benefit your music collection. It may, however, get you a good deal on some naked folks.

Life

It's an unusually cloudy, rainy day in Denver. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a huge fan of the Colorado sunshine, but occasionally, even I need a gloomy day to crank up the heat and snuggle under a blanket. I've already checked all my daily sites, filled up on news, gossip, and blogs. I've watched four episodes of Cash Cab, in which I learned that Geraldo has a hand tattoo, and went to Pho for some hot chicken and noodle soup happiness. Now, I'm back under the blanket, with nothing to do but brag about my latest creation. I went to Walmart the other day (I know, it only happens like twice a year and I prayed before and after) and found the cutest indoor herb garden kits. I was totally skeptical as to whether or not they would actually produce plants, but honestly, the little pots were so cute that I didn't care. And they were on sale for $8.00 so I bought two.

The packaging stated that the soil and seeds were included, but the containers felt pretty empty so I assumed they were just joking. I really thought they were joking, when I opened the package and saw these small brown hockey pucks described as "soil".

I followed the instructions......added water....

and more water....

fluffed with a fork... (and if you were wondering, yes, that is the fork I stole from Toby Keith)

and holy shit! It actually turned into soil. I don't have a clue how it worked, but those little pucks of umm whatever they were...grew before my eyes into a full pot of fluffy soil!!!

I put the little seeds in and covered the pots with saran wrap as instructed and placed them in the window sills in the guest room. Two days later, I was convinced that the saran wrap was not creating a greenhouse for my little herbs, but was instead just growing mold, so I took it off. The very next day I realized the little purple fuzzy specs of mold were actually plants!! Look at those little bitches!!!

Yeah that's right. I gots basil. And I even have three tiny little chive sprouts, although they were too small to photograph with my iphone. I am so oddly excited about this. I went to Walmart, poured water on a hockey puck, and will soon have enough herbs to season the neighborhood...or at least my pasta sauce. That's just crazy. I have a new appreciation for life. God help my future children and their first poops. And God help you dear readers because you know I will be posting pictures of that shit online.