Coda and I have been butting heads a lot lately, mostly with her trying to eat EVERYTHING she sees, including non-edible items. One of the things she does that I have been working very diligently of breaking her of is begging. I absolutely can not stand begging so I am very strict on that and never give her food while I'm eating and always drop it in her bowl when I do give it to her.
Today, I stopped by Sonic and got a Cherry-Limeade and while I was drinking it I noticed Coda was continually begging. So as an experiment I decided let her taste lime juice and see if that would deter her from begging at all. I pulled a lime out and when she reached for it I squirted the juice into her mouth.
I will say that it didn't stop her from begging but the face she made when she tasted the lime juice was hilarious. I didn't know dogs could make faces like that but she did.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Apparently I Missed the End of the World...
...Or so that's what the internet tells me. How is it the first I am hearing of this?! Man, that would have been the perfect excuse for a party. Oh well, I'm in luck since the world obviously didn't end and the date has been moved back. So save the date, party at my house, we can all get drunk and dance around to Lady Gaga. Sounds like a plan!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Shall I Tell You a Story?
I want to tell you a story, would you like that?
Imagine a day; a day like any other.
You wake up, get dressed, go to work, and walk miles in your well worn work shoes. You come home, do some of your daily house chores, play with the dog, change into street clothes and slip on your favorite pair of Converse that are just as worn as your work shoes with just as many miles but are so much more loved than they are. You run some errands, come home again, kick off your shoes, make some dinner, settle down for bed and begin to drift off for the night.
Only, something is amiss. What could it be? You toss and turn, no luck. You pause and listen. Do you hear it? That squeaking sound. Where is it coming from?
You sit up in bed, look around and listen some more. The sound is coming from under your bed. You draw up childhood memories of monsters under your bed, waiting for you to set one foot on the floor so they can bite it off.
You throw a pillow down first, just in case.
The squeaking stops.
You hold your breath and listen harder. You hear it again, squeak, squeak, squeak. It's a steady cadence of squeaks this time.
Completely befuddled, you throw off the blankets, climb out of bed and take two quick steps then freeze. That's when you spot it, at the end of your bed. Just there, do you see it? The source of the squeaking sound. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and to your horror you begin to take in such a terrible sight.
At the foot of your bed, a huddled black mass takes shape. Its fur is black as pitch, covering a well muscled body designed to pounce on its unsuspecting victims in the night. Its snout is long and pointed, filled with blindingly white teeth, so sharp they could chew through anything. But what terrifies you the most, is what you see gripped tightly between its dangerous claws.
You gasp!
The creature looks up at you without moving its head and continues to gnash its teeth. You're frozen in horror, because with every chomp of its jaws a high pitched squeak emerges.
"NO!" you yell, as you dive for that precious object held between the beast's hideous jaws. It dodges right. You dodge left and come up victorious, cradling your "precious" in your arms.
The beast looks up at you in confusion, and wags its tail.
In your arms you hold what was once the most beautiful, perfect, right-half of your favorite pair of aqua blue colored Converse shoes. Forever mangled and disfigured, you take a moment to mourn that shoe. You look down at that innocent size 9 and a single tear falls from the corner of your eye and travels down your cheek. The squeak you had heard was from the beast's teeth rubbing against the leather of the shoe. As if it were crying out in pain to be rescued from the heartless animal.
The tear dissolves and your anger filled eyes turn on the beast. It cowers, sensing that it has finally crossed a line and slinks toward its cage. You remind yourself that turning a dog into an area rug is illegal, no matter how nice of one it would make.
Don't fret my darlings, this story has a happy ending.
Out of your moment of defeat an idea emerges. You take to the internet like a woman possessed, scouring page after page of shoes until you find just the right ones. And there they are, one pair red and one pair black, but both as closely identical to the mangled one you hold in your hand as they can get without being the same shoe. You take the plunge, add them to your cart and check out.
Shipping takes two days, and you impatiently wait. You wait to see if your gamble is going to pay off. Was it possible to even come close to the perfection of those dearly departed pair of shoes? Could one pair, let alone two be as everlasting?
The shoes arrive.
You pull them out of the box, lace them up and take in that unmistakeable new shoe smell. You slip the first pair on, wiggle your toes, roll back on your heels and dare not hope. But that little voice in the back of your head whispers, "could it be?" You take them off and gently set them aside as you grab the second pair and put them on and follow the same process; toe wiggle, heel roll.
As you sit there and slowly take in the ramifications of what has just happened, Beethoven's Ode to Joy begins to play in the background. A miracle, a once in a lifetime shoe miracle, has just taken place! Both shoes fit perfectly, and both shoes are just as amazingly comfortable as the recently deceased pair! Oh, happy day!
The End
I told you it had a happy ending. And in case you were wondering, this and this are the shoes that I got.
Imagine a day; a day like any other.
You wake up, get dressed, go to work, and walk miles in your well worn work shoes. You come home, do some of your daily house chores, play with the dog, change into street clothes and slip on your favorite pair of Converse that are just as worn as your work shoes with just as many miles but are so much more loved than they are. You run some errands, come home again, kick off your shoes, make some dinner, settle down for bed and begin to drift off for the night.
Only, something is amiss. What could it be? You toss and turn, no luck. You pause and listen. Do you hear it? That squeaking sound. Where is it coming from?
You sit up in bed, look around and listen some more. The sound is coming from under your bed. You draw up childhood memories of monsters under your bed, waiting for you to set one foot on the floor so they can bite it off.
You throw a pillow down first, just in case.
The squeaking stops.
You hold your breath and listen harder. You hear it again, squeak, squeak, squeak. It's a steady cadence of squeaks this time.
Completely befuddled, you throw off the blankets, climb out of bed and take two quick steps then freeze. That's when you spot it, at the end of your bed. Just there, do you see it? The source of the squeaking sound. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and to your horror you begin to take in such a terrible sight.
At the foot of your bed, a huddled black mass takes shape. Its fur is black as pitch, covering a well muscled body designed to pounce on its unsuspecting victims in the night. Its snout is long and pointed, filled with blindingly white teeth, so sharp they could chew through anything. But what terrifies you the most, is what you see gripped tightly between its dangerous claws.
You gasp!
The creature looks up at you without moving its head and continues to gnash its teeth. You're frozen in horror, because with every chomp of its jaws a high pitched squeak emerges.
"NO!" you yell, as you dive for that precious object held between the beast's hideous jaws. It dodges right. You dodge left and come up victorious, cradling your "precious" in your arms.
The beast looks up at you in confusion, and wags its tail.
In your arms you hold what was once the most beautiful, perfect, right-half of your favorite pair of aqua blue colored Converse shoes. Forever mangled and disfigured, you take a moment to mourn that shoe. You look down at that innocent size 9 and a single tear falls from the corner of your eye and travels down your cheek. The squeak you had heard was from the beast's teeth rubbing against the leather of the shoe. As if it were crying out in pain to be rescued from the heartless animal.
The tear dissolves and your anger filled eyes turn on the beast. It cowers, sensing that it has finally crossed a line and slinks toward its cage. You remind yourself that turning a dog into an area rug is illegal, no matter how nice of one it would make.
Don't fret my darlings, this story has a happy ending.
Out of your moment of defeat an idea emerges. You take to the internet like a woman possessed, scouring page after page of shoes until you find just the right ones. And there they are, one pair red and one pair black, but both as closely identical to the mangled one you hold in your hand as they can get without being the same shoe. You take the plunge, add them to your cart and check out.
Shipping takes two days, and you impatiently wait. You wait to see if your gamble is going to pay off. Was it possible to even come close to the perfection of those dearly departed pair of shoes? Could one pair, let alone two be as everlasting?
The shoes arrive.
You pull them out of the box, lace them up and take in that unmistakeable new shoe smell. You slip the first pair on, wiggle your toes, roll back on your heels and dare not hope. But that little voice in the back of your head whispers, "could it be?" You take them off and gently set them aside as you grab the second pair and put them on and follow the same process; toe wiggle, heel roll.
As you sit there and slowly take in the ramifications of what has just happened, Beethoven's Ode to Joy begins to play in the background. A miracle, a once in a lifetime shoe miracle, has just taken place! Both shoes fit perfectly, and both shoes are just as amazingly comfortable as the recently deceased pair! Oh, happy day!
The End
I told you it had a happy ending. And in case you were wondering, this and this are the shoes that I got.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Coda Vs. The Rake
Let me just say, the rake won.
The weather here has been really nice lately, sunny and warm with a slight breeze, perfect weather before it gets hotter than an oven the next two months. I had the last few days off so I took advantage of the wonderful weather to do some yard work. I was raking the yard trying to get some dead leaves from around the house and the dead grass when I noticed Coda kept avoiding the rake, she would skirt around to my other side placing me between herself and the rake. I held out the rake for her to investigate so she wouldn't be scared of it, she slowly inched up, sniffed the rake and relaxed a little.
As I continued raking Coda decided she wanted to play, she would bite and bark at the rake and then chase the leaves as I pushed them forward. It was cute and funny and we had a good time while I finished the yard up. By the time we headed back inside Coda was no longer afraid of the rake so I leaned it up against the side of the house and we settled down for the night.
This morning I let Coda out and went about my usual routine, my yard isn't completely fenced in so I use a tie-out, only I noticed Coda was being awfully quiet outside. Usually when she's out there I can hear her running after squirrels or barking at birds. I go outside to check on her and I find her cowering at the corner of my house. I tried to get her to come to me but for some reason she wouldn't move.
After a moment I notice that the rake is laying on the ground right on top of her tie-out leash. I forgot I had leaned against the side of the house and she must have knocked it over. Coda got up her courage and tried to move toward me but every time she moved, the rake would move too and she would get scared again. I was cracking up when I saw what was going on. It was one of those, awww-I-shouldn't-be-laughing-at-this-but-it's-really-funny-and-cute moments. So I rescued her from the evil rake and she bee-lined it for the door.
In the end the score was The Rake 1, Coda 0.
The weather here has been really nice lately, sunny and warm with a slight breeze, perfect weather before it gets hotter than an oven the next two months. I had the last few days off so I took advantage of the wonderful weather to do some yard work. I was raking the yard trying to get some dead leaves from around the house and the dead grass when I noticed Coda kept avoiding the rake, she would skirt around to my other side placing me between herself and the rake. I held out the rake for her to investigate so she wouldn't be scared of it, she slowly inched up, sniffed the rake and relaxed a little.
As I continued raking Coda decided she wanted to play, she would bite and bark at the rake and then chase the leaves as I pushed them forward. It was cute and funny and we had a good time while I finished the yard up. By the time we headed back inside Coda was no longer afraid of the rake so I leaned it up against the side of the house and we settled down for the night.
This morning I let Coda out and went about my usual routine, my yard isn't completely fenced in so I use a tie-out, only I noticed Coda was being awfully quiet outside. Usually when she's out there I can hear her running after squirrels or barking at birds. I go outside to check on her and I find her cowering at the corner of my house. I tried to get her to come to me but for some reason she wouldn't move.
After a moment I notice that the rake is laying on the ground right on top of her tie-out leash. I forgot I had leaned against the side of the house and she must have knocked it over. Coda got up her courage and tried to move toward me but every time she moved, the rake would move too and she would get scared again. I was cracking up when I saw what was going on. It was one of those, awww-I-shouldn't-be-laughing-at-this-but-it's-really-funny-and-cute moments. So I rescued her from the evil rake and she bee-lined it for the door.
In the end the score was The Rake 1, Coda 0.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
A thought...
I feel a random questionnaire coming on, now if only I could find a good one. I haven't done one in at least a few months, it's definitely time to fix that.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Felt like updating...
...even though I really don't have anything to update about. Things have been keeping me busy so I haven't had the time I would like to write. And when I am writing I'm usually working on the half finished NaNoWriMo novel that I started waaay back in November. Yep, still writing that even though I've changed the ending about three different times. It's fun though, keeps the imagination sharp, you know? Do I pull a Joss Whedon? Kill off a major beloved character? Or a John Green? Bringing some ultimately profound life lesson into the mix? Or do I leave things open and loose with a few ends to continue writing if I need something to keep myself occupied? Who knows, I think it depends on my mood while I'm writing.
Things with Coda have been...challenging. I swear when she's not eating something she's not supposed to she's getting into other trouble. I'll elaborate more on that later this week if I have time.
Work has sucked donkey balls this past week. I think all of the fucking psychotic customers have come out of the wood work lately. The one that tops them all is this insane lady who accused me of stealing fifty dollars from her, told me to shut up when I explained to her that I didn't steal anything from her and then called me a bitch. She's lucky I needed my job more than I wanted to punch her in the face. Thankfully, my managers are on my side, they pulled the tapes and confirmed that I wasn't lying about not stealing money. That's probably what has pissed me the most off too, I don't care that she called me a bitch so much as I can't stand people who steal and accusing me of stealing just makes me that much more angry.
I finished watching Dollhouse finally. I can't remember why I stopped watching the 2nd season midway through, probably got busy with work or school but last week I had 3 days off in a row and decided to marathon season's 1 and 2. I also saw the King's Speech which I absolutely loved, I can see why it got so many awards.
I'm looking forward to Friday, a bunch of people from work are going out together and I think it's going to be a good time. I get along really well with everyone going, plus the place we're going to sells Long Islands in these mini trash can things. Yuuuuuummmm!
One of the girls that's going is really funny because we play really well off each other, we can get a conversation going and just keep it escalating with our ridiculousness. I think our latest funny/wrong conversation was about the weather and amount of murders taking place in the city lately. She mentioned something about how in the winter time everyone stays in doors and makes babies and the summer time everyone wanders around at night killing each other. And I said well at least it's a good form of population control because it all balances out so there's enough room for the babies. One of the other girls I work with looks at both of us with a face of horrified amusement and then punched me in the arm for what I said. I just think she was mad because I made her laugh at something so wrong. Sometimes that's the best kind of humor. It eases the tension about serious topics and helps relieve the stress about the fact that it's only going to be May and there have already been more than 20 murders in the city so far.
I just noticed my clock says 1:43am. I love you too clock! That's one of my favorite numbers. For as long as I remember that has been a little code between my mom, my brother and I. It's not a secret or anything, but I remember my mom using it when we were younger and didn't want to embarrass us in front of our friends by yelling "I love you sweetheart!" like you see in movies and such. She would always just say "one four three" and we would know and shout it back. We still use it to this day, I'll get a text with just 143 in it. One of my friends Kini asked me once why we didn't just say I love you and I didn't know the answer until I thought about it for a moment and told her it was because they mean the same thing. The number has become completely synonymous to the words for us.
Well, I think this post has rambled on enough and I've covered multiple topics that I wanted to talk about. So I shall say goodnight sweet world, 143!
Things with Coda have been...challenging. I swear when she's not eating something she's not supposed to she's getting into other trouble. I'll elaborate more on that later this week if I have time.
Work has sucked donkey balls this past week. I think all of the fucking psychotic customers have come out of the wood work lately. The one that tops them all is this insane lady who accused me of stealing fifty dollars from her, told me to shut up when I explained to her that I didn't steal anything from her and then called me a bitch. She's lucky I needed my job more than I wanted to punch her in the face. Thankfully, my managers are on my side, they pulled the tapes and confirmed that I wasn't lying about not stealing money. That's probably what has pissed me the most off too, I don't care that she called me a bitch so much as I can't stand people who steal and accusing me of stealing just makes me that much more angry.
I finished watching Dollhouse finally. I can't remember why I stopped watching the 2nd season midway through, probably got busy with work or school but last week I had 3 days off in a row and decided to marathon season's 1 and 2. I also saw the King's Speech which I absolutely loved, I can see why it got so many awards.
I'm looking forward to Friday, a bunch of people from work are going out together and I think it's going to be a good time. I get along really well with everyone going, plus the place we're going to sells Long Islands in these mini trash can things. Yuuuuuummmm!
One of the girls that's going is really funny because we play really well off each other, we can get a conversation going and just keep it escalating with our ridiculousness. I think our latest funny/wrong conversation was about the weather and amount of murders taking place in the city lately. She mentioned something about how in the winter time everyone stays in doors and makes babies and the summer time everyone wanders around at night killing each other. And I said well at least it's a good form of population control because it all balances out so there's enough room for the babies. One of the other girls I work with looks at both of us with a face of horrified amusement and then punched me in the arm for what I said. I just think she was mad because I made her laugh at something so wrong. Sometimes that's the best kind of humor. It eases the tension about serious topics and helps relieve the stress about the fact that it's only going to be May and there have already been more than 20 murders in the city so far.
I just noticed my clock says 1:43am. I love you too clock! That's one of my favorite numbers. For as long as I remember that has been a little code between my mom, my brother and I. It's not a secret or anything, but I remember my mom using it when we were younger and didn't want to embarrass us in front of our friends by yelling "I love you sweetheart!" like you see in movies and such. She would always just say "one four three" and we would know and shout it back. We still use it to this day, I'll get a text with just 143 in it. One of my friends Kini asked me once why we didn't just say I love you and I didn't know the answer until I thought about it for a moment and told her it was because they mean the same thing. The number has become completely synonymous to the words for us.
Well, I think this post has rambled on enough and I've covered multiple topics that I wanted to talk about. So I shall say goodnight sweet world, 143!
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