Tag Archives: pets

Dee Plane, Boss! Dee Plane!

6 Jun

I have one tattoo.  It’s a small colorful butterfly on the back of my neck.  It was a very trendy design in the 90s, and I’m pretty sure I was wearing ripped jeans, a flannel, and hiking boots while listening to Sublime when I got it, but I wear it with pride.  That little butterfly reminds me of my adolescence, and besides the usual a-holes and bumps in the road I dealt with back then, I have really happy memories from that time in my life.  

I notice tattoos, and I’ve seen a lot of beautiful and a lot of awesomely hideous ones.  Either way, I am always curious about the stories behind every single one of them.  I don’t care if it’s an intricate artsy design or the 90s tribal armband, every tattoo has a story, and I love to hear them.  

I was weeding my garden this weekend when I noticed a man planting flowers along the border of the field across the street.  I don’t know if it was the hot sun or the 3 piña coladas, but from my vantage point, it looked like dude had a huge tramp stamp across the small of his back.

?

My garden would have to wait.  I wouldn’t be able to get anything done all weekend if I didn’t get to the bottom of this.  I didn’t even know guys were allowed to get tramp stamps.  Isn’t there some sort of rule?  I had to be wrong.  It was probably the bottom of some huge back design:

I stood up, wiped my brow, straightened my gardening hat, grabbed my camera (in case it indeed was a *gulp* tramp stamp), and clogged over to the tree in my front yard.  Damn it!  I still couldn’t see clearly enough.  I would have to approach.

I needed an excuse…..TAKEO!  I ran inside, grabbed my dog and his leash and clogged across the street.  The second I set foot on the curb, I dropped the leash knowing full well that Takeo wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of a possible rub down by a complete stranger.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless!”, I yelled as Takeo ran over to the tatted man.  I hobbled over as fast as my clogs would take me so I could get a good look at the possible  man stamp before the guy stood up.   

I was about 2 feet away before my eyes could focus.  I was frozen dead in my tracks by what appeared to be a dark, billowy, curly, dark, tuft of….hair.

Back Pubes

 Thank goodness it wasn’t a tramp stamp?

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No, I Didn’t Get Raptured. Just Ripped.

1 Jun

What’s up Interweb?!

So, yeah.  I took an unexpected hiatus.  I basically took a hiatus from everything including, but not limited to, cleaning my house, yard work, and checking anything off of my To Do List.   Things I didn’t take a hiatus from include eating ice cream, reading some really good books, humpy time with the Hubby, and piña coladas.

Since my last post, I am now the mother to an adorable, but extremely a-hole-ish, new puppy!  I forgot how much work a puppy can be, especially when you end up with an a-hole like Kemba.  Obviously, I love him, but he’s sort of evile.  As a matter of fact, as I type this I can hear his evil puppy growls and snarls as Hubby sternly repeats, “Kemba!  No bite!!”.  This has been going on for about 20 minutes.  We better break that dog’s spirit soon or I’m afraid we’re going to end up with a complete dickhead of a dog.

I can’t wait to read what you guys have been up to.  I missed you.  Seriously.  I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk.  As my classy girl, Snooki, would say, “I love you so much, I want you to get it in”.

Jersey Shore, Bitches!

What? Wednesday- Wild Man Cat Found on Subway

18 May

Back story (as made up by yours truly):  This guy thinks he’s a cat- a wild man cat.  He goes by the name of Muffins, and purrs when you shake his hand.   He also poops in a man-sized litter box.  He buys his litter in bulk.

Don’t worry, though.  He’s a classy man cat, and refuses to give himself a man cat bath in public.

But, he will clean his shoe.

Video via Buzzfeed.

I’m No Michael Vick, But Still….

17 May

I ran over a dog once.  It was a traumatic experience for a couple of reasons.

I was driving my old piece of shit Ford Bronco. (It should be noted that I hated this car so much that if it were a person I would have challenged it to an MMA fight wherein I would have mercilessly wrassled it to the ground, punched it in the kidneys, head butted it, gauged its eyes out, and then stomped on its nuts.  But, I digress.)   

Our neighborhood is full of kids who like to dart out into the road at any given moment which is why I was white knuckling the steering wheel and going about 2 miles an hour.

Sure enough, I saw an empty skateboard fly out from a driveway, and quickly slammed on my breaks while I waited for Joey Deathwish to run out and grab it.  It was then that I felt a very subtle “bump”.  My heart quickly fell to my stomach.  I knew I hadn’t run over a child (thank God), but I definitely hit something.  

I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a black lump sitting in the middle of the road.  I pulled over, tried to get my shakes under control, and walked over to what I thought was a cat.  It wasn’t.  It was a little black dog, and it was definitely dead. 

I immediately broke down.  I searched for the family. I fought the urge to vomit as I realized I was going to have to introduce myself to these people as  the evil bitch who  just killed their dog. 

I found the family outside the apartment building down the block, and through tears and snot told the first person I saw that I had just hit a dog.  Just then I heard a woman scream “NOOOOOO!” as she frantically looked around for her dog.

I was a mess.  I apologized and tried to explain what happened.  Just then the woman’s husband came marching over to me and chewed me a new a-hole.  I would have been scared if I wasn’t such a basket case.  I was a dog murderer. I deserved it. 

A neighbor who had witnessed the whole thing came to my rescue.  She explained that it was an accident, that I had immediately pulled over, that I found them, and that I was done talking.  She walked me back home where I relived the entire nightmare a second time for Hubby.

After a few days the nightmares started to fade, and I tried put the whole thing behind me.  Then, one night, on the 10:00 local news, I saw what looked like “the” apartment building down road.

I watched through tunnel vision as the heavily made-up news anchor pointed to “the” apartment building down the road while saying words like “dog” and “abuse” and “beaten to death” .  My heart was beating a mile a minute as I waited for the police to kick in my front door.  Could this be happening?! 

As it turns out, the grief-stricken family decided to dispose of the poor dog’s body in the apartment building dumpster instead of bury it.  The body was found by a tenant who thought the dog had been beaten to death.  She called the police.  Apparently, people don’t like the thought of a dog being beaten to death.  Who knew?

I ultimately relived the nightmare a third time when I called the police station to explain what had really happened. 

Readers, this is an example of how things in my life have a tendency to snowball.  It’s why I write this blog.

Boys are Made of Frogs and Snails and Puppy-Dog Tails

19 Apr

It is with great joy that I introduce you to the newest member of the DMTF household, Duke Kemba Red De Los Santos de Sevilla (Kemba for short):

King of Cute

I was going to wait on the birth announcement until he grew less mole-looking and more Cockapoo-looking, but the excitement was too much for me handle. 

Here he is again:

Shhh. Can you hear my ovaries bursting?

Kemba needs to stay with his birth mother for a few more weeks, but believe me when I tell you that my uterus aches with the need to caress this creature.  I yearn to lay his warm fuzzy puppy body against my chest and breathe in his puppy breath.  I want to hold him up to my face and gaze into his puppy eyes as I envision a future full of puppy cuteness, flower costumes, and dog booties.  I want to swaddle him in the softest of baby blankets, warm him a bottle, powder and diaper his fuzzy little puppy butt, and carry him around in a car seat.  I can’t wait to get him home.   

You may think my love for Kemba is a little over the top.  I totally agree.  My undying love is not the biggest problem, however.  You see, I wanted a girl dog.  I already have a boy dog.   This time, I wanted a small, pink ribbons in her hair, doggy nails polished, pink tutu wearing, girly girl of a dog.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  All the females in Kemba’s litter were spoken for, and there was no way my womb would withstand the wait until late October for the new litter.  So, I settled for the runt. 

Luckily, I’ve come up with a solution.  I’ve decided to raise Kemba as a girl dog.  Hubby and Son have made it clear that any attempt I make to present Kemba as a girl will be met with fierce opposition.  They have threatened to turn him against me by rough housing with him, and teaching him to fetch.  Son said he would make it his personal mission to discourage Kemba from sitting on my lap.  Do you see what I’m dealing with? 

My intention was to conduct a poll and let you guys decide whether or not I’m completely nuts (he-he).  Instead, I’ve made an executive decision.  

Kemba and I will have a secret.  When no one is looking I will whisper into his ear that she’s such a pretty girl.  I will remind her how much Mama loves her little girl.  When no one is home I will dress her up in puppy evening gowns and doggy heels.   I will also teach Takeo how to clap for his sister as she promenades around the living room in her puppy bikini. 

It should be noted that I just took a break to look at the Kemba pictures, again, and I’m pretty sure I just felt the milk come in.  My boobs are rock hard.