And just when you think I over-exaggerate...

This...

Is not a repeat picture. From a previous post.

Nope...

I took these about 15 minutes ago.

The bottle man strikes again.

So I'm not leaving my desk today

So I'm just sitting here working away on one of my reports, when I feel the need to stretch. I roll out, lean back and and let loose with a long ol' stretch...ahhhhhh feels good.

Then I look down, to readjust the pants, when I notice what looks to be (well I won't say what it looks to be, but more of what I know it to be, but others may percieve it as something entirely different) a bunch of doggie snot slash slobber spots on my black dress pants. Which hey...it happens right.

Thing is one of my doggies has this thing, we call him the nudger. Cuz well he likes to nudge your junk. Boy, girl, young, old, it doesn't really matter, he gets his nose right up in there and well...nudges. A tad embarrassing for his owners. But you know everyone has thier little quirks...it's just one of his.

So needless to say, I have a bunch of slobber slash doggie booger stains on the front crotch area of my pants...and I probably won't be leaving my cube at all today.

Well except to leave of course.

It's ok if you steal a car, if it's from a zombie...

Mr. Vasey and I were given these totally cool watches.

Kinda like magical watches, they would do anything we wanted. But they kinda looked like those calculator watches from my childhood.


Well, we took these watches and decided to get some food....at a strip club. I guess they were having one of those all you can eat buffet's. Once we got to the strip club, this is where all hell breaks loose. Someone had gotten infected with, not the H1N1, but with zombie. So I had to use my super special watch to kill a few of the bastards, Mr. Vasey got some too, then we high tailed it outta there.


There was one more bad guy zombie stalking the front door, (as though there is such a thing of a good guy zombie) trying to catch unassuming innocents coming or going, Mr. Vasey got him. Then we were about to get into our car, when we spied a Viper. I thought to myself "Why should I take my crappy car when I can take this car." Told my watch to unlock the door. I tried the handle and it opened.

I looked back and there was a zombie making his way towards us, I don't know maybe it was his car, but he was in no condition to be driving, so I got behind the wheel. Told my trusty watch to start the car, and the engine came to life. Then I pulled away.

I felt pretty good stealing the car since, I figured the owner would be, if they weren't already turned into a zombie, they would be soon.

Mr. Vasey and I then drove off into the sunset.

Then I must've rolled over and someone thought I was awake, cuz then there was the distinct smell of doggie breath....

Going home

So it has been almost a month since Mr. Vasey, Flaire, Steamers and I returned from our very quick trip back to "The Good Life" ... back to Nebraska.

There are some things that I really miss about my hometown, and about Nebraska in general.

First and foremost there is Runza....

Oh how I love me some Runza

There really is nothing like a Swiss Mushroom Runza with Runza fries and everything dipped in a little tub o' Runza Ranch. Runza seriously has the best freaking Ranch in the entire world. It's a little bit like heaven on earth, I'm sure, actually no I'm positive it's heaven on earth. My mouth is watering just thinking about it....oh Runza how I miss thee.

If you have never had a Runza sandwich, then you need to go to Nebraska and have one. It truly is something that everyone should experience. I won't even go into details about how wonderful a Runza sandwich is becuase honestly I don't think you can handle it. Lets just say that it really should be considered one of the great wonders of the world. Those triangles out in the desert have got nothing on a Swiss Mushroom Runza...nothing.

The second thing about my home town that I especially enjoy is the purple house. It's somewhat of a landmark there.

"Where do you live?" one might say..."Oh just turn left at the purple house...."

Or someone lost, needing directions, "How do you get to the high school?" and once again..."Just turn at the purple house and it's a block down on the left."

We don't know street names, just landmarks...and the purple house is one of the best landmarks in town.

She is a majestic beast...a little weathered with time. But there is nothing cooler than having a purple house in your hometown. Especially a purple house with turquois trim, a psychadelic privacy fence and 2 Dish Network satellites in the front yard....

This is the street I grew up on, the same street that I was declared the street tennis champion, even though I've never really played real tennis. The street I ran across every day, without looking both ways, to get to my best friends house. The street I skinned my knee on learning to ride a bike. I ruled this street...


Ya I know, its really not much of a street.

I also took Mr. Vasey down to the crick. (It's crick not creek in these here parts) There was something I really wanted him to see.

This is the same crick that a few of us would tube down in the summers. When the water was high enough, all these rocks created "rapids" and gave us our thrill. This kind of tubing is not tubing for wussies. Many a teenager, myself included, usually came away with a few abrasions due to slipping off said tube, falling on said rocks and getting pushed downstream. But none of us died, none of us needed rescued...all in good fun. No one got their eyes poked out either.


So I made Mr. Vasey take a little walk with me, while I told him a story about the mystery of the Medicine Creek...

The old folks say that a terrible thing happened here about 70 odd years ago... a bunch of teenagers were down here at the crick 'parking' (if ya know what I mean) when the great earthquake of 1950 happened, I believe it was a 9.0 on the ol Richter Scale, and the earth just crumbled beneath them all and launched them straight into the water... They all perished, under her mighty current, they were helpless. The townspeople left the cars in the exact spot where they fell in. They were too devasted, losing so many young people, and also in rememberance of what happened that terrible night. They also used the wreckage as a lesson to the younger generation, to keep their hands to themselves....


No one is sure how many lost their lives that fateful evening. Some say 50 others say 100.


But legend has it, if you go down to the Medicine late at night you can hear their screams and water splashing as they gulp for air and fight for their lives...


Just kiddin', that's not really what happened...but the truth isn't nearly as exciting. Apparently these cars are there simply to stop or slow down erosion. To make sure the banks of the Medicine Creek don't wear away too much and take over the golf course, which is on the other side. See wasn't my story way better?

After our exhausting hike through the wilderness on the banks of the Medicine Creek, I thought I'd capture the tranquility of our downtown. On a Saturday afternoon, most businesses are closed, which allowed me to have my pick of parking spaces.

I really wish I could've seen Stan the One Man Band....





The main reason for the trip though wasn't to go sightseeing. It was really to celebrate the union of a very special pair. The patriarchs of our family. The people who raised seven children out on a farm south of town, the grandparents to over 20, and great-grandparents to gosh...I really don't know...but it's a lot, more than 20. But they've been together for over 60 years, and still share the love they had as newlyweds back in 1949.


So with our bellies full of my Uncle Roger's prime rib and cheesy potatoes, and a red mustache from drinking too much red drink (Kool-Aid to those of you not as saavy as Mr. Vasey and I) we said good-bye to Nebraski. It was a good trip and of course we'll be back.

Although one other thing worth mentioning is this.

If you ever find yourself driving along Interstate 70 in Kansas, make sure you look to the north.

There are simply hundreds and miles of windmills, and we decided that they change direction with the wind as well, becuase we swore they were facing the other way on the way up to Nebraska.

And they are huge, I kinda wanted to get out and go stand by one but they were pretty far off the highway, and probably a lot further away than one realizes. Plus Mr. Vasey said "no". But they gave us enough tailwind to push us along, back home to Texas.


So there you have it, all the sights and sounds from the heartland. From Nebraska "The Good Life"

I'm not a hick...I'm correct

So I'm back from my big, bad, fly-by-the-night trip to the heartland, to "The Good Life", that's right....Nebraska. (I'll have more on my trip later.)

I was talking to Spanks McDuders last night on the phone, we stayed at her casa in the sprawling metroplex of McCook. (pop. 7,994) She wasn't there for the weekend, she decided to take off to California to visit another friend of ours, so we had the run of the place. On the phone last night she asked me. "Um, so I come home, and my dictionary is out, left open to the 'L's' what's that all about?"

It took me a minute to remember, you see after spending the day with the family on Saturday, Mr. Vasey and I retired to the hacienda de Spanky with an 18 pack of Coors Light. I distinctly remember getting the dictionary out but I couldn't remember what we were looking up...

"The only L word that came to my head, that the two of you would be looking up was lesbian, but it was open to the 'lu' page."

Hmmmm still thinking....no we weren't looking up lesbian, pretty sure we both know what the meaning of that is..."Oh yes!" I told her. It all started coming back to me, "we got into a discussion about accents and how, I don't have an accent becuase I'm from the midwest," and he, Mr. Vasey that is, said that even though I'm from the midwest there are things that I say that are distinctly midwestern. Like how I put the word "right" in strange places in sentences, or I say "pop," and not soda or what the people round here call Coke, even if they want a Pepsi they say Coke (now tell me how intelligent that is?) and how I refer to lunch as lunch, supper as supper and dinner can be either or.

Mr. Vasey was brought up that dinner is always the evening meal. And brought up to believe that is correct way to refer to the evening meal. Referring to it as 'supper' is just country in his opinion.

It actually brings me back to a time when his mother called to ask me over for Christmas Dinner one time....the conversation went something like this.

"So I was wondering if you would like to join us for Christmas dinner?"

"Sure," I say. "Would that be dinner-lunch or dinner-supper?"

She, clearly confused by my question, responds. "Well, dinner-dinner."

Me, clearly confused by her response, had to ask again, "So...like dinner at night or like dinner at noon-time?"

"Well...dinner..." she says.

Finally we get it figured out, she meant dinner, the evening meal....

Well I have always been brought up that dinner was the big meal, or a fancy meal. Lunch is just lunch, you have a samich or maybe a burger or something, but if you have a roast for the noon meal, where the whole family sits down and eats, that's a dinner.

For instance, after mass on Sunday we would have a Sunday dinner, a roast or some other hearty meal, and for supper on those days we would have popcorn and milk...num num...

But there would be occasions where the big, sit down meal would be the evening meal, so instead of it just being a supper of goulash or spaghetti, we would have pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy or something, that again is a dinner.

Just to be clear breakfast is always breakfast as the morning meal, that is unless its brunch.

So that's the way I've always referred to dinner, the big meal, the sit down meal. And Mr. Vasey thought I was wrong. So we looked it up in the dictionary. And just so that everyone else can be clear. Here are the definitions we found.

Lunch: a light midday meal between breakfast and dinner; luncheon.

Supper: the evening meal, often the principal meal of the day.

Dinner: the main meal of the day, eaten in the evening or at midday.

So there. Never doubt a midwesterner when it comes to issues of speech...

Take that "ya'll" I'm fixin ta open a can o woop ass up in herra.

Water bottles and rearranging furniture...

Mr. Vasey really likes water.
He tells me he drinks water all day...


He take a couple of sips before he goes to bed. He also drinks water at night. Sometimes he'll wake up in the middle of the night and grab a few gulps before he goes pee pee...and in the morning before he gets ready for work...

...He'll grab a few more...

Mr. Vasey also likes to rearrange furniture. But unfortunately the only room left do to much rearranging to is our bedroom...

So we we're once again rearranging the bedroom to make room for a free desk we got off of someone he works with...

This is what we found.


For lack of being more eloquent...we found a shit ton of water bottles under the bed.

"Thankfully," he said, "I just threw a bunch away a few weeks ago too..." Well thank God for small miracles.

Totally Ticked me off 2names....

Alright I have to come out with it already. I’m blazing pissed. Just a little bit…

2names (my dear ol college friend) went to the Blink 182 concert with her younger brother on Sunday night. Monday morning she called me on her way into work as she normally does. I ask her about the concert and what’s the first thing outta her mouth?

“Is Mark gay?”

I’m like “What? Who?”

“Mark, from Blink is he gay?”

“Uh no…where did you hear such a thing?”

“My brother told me that he came out a few years ago, that he is gay,” she says.

“Well I haven’t heard that, and I’m pretty sure I would’ve … I wonder if his wife and kid knows that he’s gay?”

“Well I looked it up on the internet and I saw some stuff that corroborated his statement.”

“Whatever,” is what I’m thinking in my head. First of all, I would know if he was gay. And secondly, don't believe everything you see or hear on the internets.

Now let me set the record straight, it doesn’t really matter if he is gay, well except that he’s been a bit of a crush of mine for well going on 12 years so even though I’m happily married and supposedly he is too, him being gay pretty much totally takes him out of contention, you know ... for my list, you know of famous people I would bang, if you know ... given the chance to bang a famous person your spouse can’t be mad, you know ... if we were ever to meet in a smoky bar or a burrito joint out in San Diego, where he goes to just get a few bean burritos in between writing love songs about some Midwestern girl, (its not as though I've thought at all about how the opportunity might present itself) but beyond that, him being gay is just a bit of a let down … in the hopes of the banging department. I mean I can't take him off the list. Who would I replace him with?

But anyway, he isn’t gay, he is still married … to a woman.

But not only did she try to dash my hopes of the whole bangin’ Mark someday, she also pretty much said that Blink sucks…seriously what is this woman trying to do to me at 7 a.m. on a Monday morning, has she completely lost her ever lovin mind?

“I wasn’t really that impressed,” she’s like. “I’m kinda glad I didn’t spend my own money on the ticket.”

Hmmm, really? I’m thinking “how can she say that?” Does she not remember who she is talking to? Does she not recall the 30 minute video I personally made and sent to MTV to get a chance at being a Blink 182 Fanatic? Does she not remember the people from MTV contacting me and telling me that I was one of three finalists for the first ever live Fanatic Show? Does she not remember my 30 secs of fame on MTV? Or the hoops I and a friend had to jump through to get me to my first Blink 182 concert because she was being a bitch and left me. (there is a drama filled back story to her leaving me, might have to do with me and two others up and moving out on Niner but that’s beside the point). I own every CD damn near, I have 2 of their video releases, got the book, I follow them on Twitter, I wore black and pink on the day it was announced they were going on a hiatus, also on the day that Mark got married (that day was also a day I deemed for mourning) and I’ve been to their shows at least 3 times and she has the nerve to tell me it basically sucked.

“Ya, if you don’t have a lot of money to spend, I wouldn’t get a ticket when they come to Dallas,” she says. “I mean I don’t remember Tom being so whiney when he sings. And the dick jokes got a little old. I mean I laughed at some of them, but I don’t know….I was just more impressed with the Greenday concert I guess.”

Um…hate to break it to ya 2names but that is how they roll. Tom is whiney, always has been always will be, some nights its worse than others, but its something I’m able to overlook. Dick jokes? What did you expect? This is Blink 182 their adolescent humor is part of their charm for me. I get a kick out of it. But then again I am the 13 year-old boy stuck inside the body of a 30-something woman.

She did try to smooth things over and say it might also have had to do with the venue as to why she didn’t like it….again I say ‘whatever.’



I seriously don’t know who she thinks she is, bad mouthing my boys like that. She can no longer call herself a fan…We should give her a good ol fashioned flogging or something. She obviously doesn’t deserve the right to enjoy a Blink show, and should be punished for such blasphemous remarks. Don't let that smiling face fool ya, this woman is pure evil.

Sound advice....

And I've always believed its good sometimes to go ahead and laugh at yourself every once in a while. Shoot if I didn't laugh at my own jokes sometimes, no one would.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned how much I love popcorn. But I do. I truly do. I'm pretty sure I ate this piece, even though it was almost shoved up my nose.

Have a good day everyone.

Three Wishes…

I keep this far off fantasy in my head that some day I’m going to be walking down the street or maybe I’ll be hiking on some out of the way trail, searching for mushrooms or maybe a long lost cave, and I’ll stumble across a leprechaun or a treasure chest with genie in a bottle (gonna rub you the right way….sorry) will be among the treasure I find. I mean don’t people stumble across leprechaun’s and genie’s on a fairly frequent basis, I don’t think this is such a crazy kind of pie in the sky

If I were lucky enough to come across such a stupendous find, and were indeed granted three magical wishes, I’ve often thought, long and hard about what those three wishes would be. Of course I would first try to wish for more wishes, but I’m thinking my genie or leprechaun will have a stipulation on that. So in that case, I would have 3 wishes and solely three wishes.

Wish Numero Uno

My first wish is not for money alone, I mean I guess I could just wish for like a 100 billion dollars, but I don’t want to just be rich, I want to be rich and legendary. I want to leave a legacy.

So my first wish would be that I would be granted the talent to write an innumerable amount of bestselling books. That way, I kinda get two wishes taken care of, to be an author and be rich. And being a writer, I get to leave something behind, something to forever be remembered, till the end of eternity if you will. (Yes these books will be that good, not to be blasphemous, but they’ll be better and more read than the Bible)

Plus, being a bestselling author, I’ll earn the money to get all the material stuff, like my ranch in Montana, my beach house in the Hamptons, my villa in Italy, and my cabin at Harry Strunk Lake. Oh and of course I’ll have Dubai build me an island and I’ll put a house out there as well.

And really one needs more than just a crap ton of money, I think I would get bored if I didn’t have anything to do, plus I’ve always wanted to be stopped on the street and asked to sign an autograph. See as an author one could be obscure enough as to not draw the paparazzi, but one might stumble across an unassuming fan one day at the grocery store.

My second wish

I’m torn on this, on the one hand I feel like I should share the wish, like I should wish for something like world peace, the end to world hunger, make education available to everyone. So I figure why not make me, the Supreme Leader of the World. I could accomplish all those things and there would somehow be a way to brainwash everyone so I wouldn’t have any dissenters or something.

This also will help Chauncy (doesn't he look like someone that should be taking over the world?) and I accomplish the goal we’ve had for a long time to take over the world. We sort of think of ourselves as the smartest people ever and clever as well, so we thought that at some point we’d just take over the world and place our dogs and friends in high ranking positions. I mean we really couldn’t do much worse than the current numbskulls attempting to lead various countries. I mean come on if Ahmananmanamanjad a Dabba Dabba Doo, can do it I think I can.

And my final wish

My last wish is completely selfish and totally unnecessary.

I absolutely loath Angelina Jolie, I hate her skelator body, her big ass lips, her stupid tattoos, she really isn’t that great of an actress, and more importantly I hate that she broke up Jen and Brad. I’m no dummy, I know it was her fault.

So I thought that I would take this anger towards her and I would just start adopting children from third world countries, while at the same time procreating with Mr. Vasey, to have my own. We’d basically create our own little army, then go and beat the crap out of her. (that would just be a bonus perk) And I would do it, you know ... just because I can.

I would snatch up all the children so that she, and while we are at it Madonna too, wouldn’t be able to. Why do I want to do this? I don’t know, I kinda couldn’t think of anything else I wanted, guess my imagination isn’t so great after all….

What are your 3 wishes?

114 South Lincoln Street

The house at 114 South Lincoln Street in Wayne America holds a lot of memories.

This was the house I lived in my senior year of college. It was pretty rough living there, what with the rent being an astronomical $42.50 month (Well $85 total since I had a roommate). I'm not really sure what this says about Niner (my roomie) and I...but on more than one occassion we were unable to pay said rent, as we were broke. Both of us had jobs and still had trouble coming up with $42 a month to pay rent. Luckily our landlords were cool...

This house was the house that 'you had to know someone' to live there. And how I came to live there, well that's another long story. But for this blog post I just wanted to talk about the granduer of this beautiful home.

Pull Switches

The house was pretty darn old. It was at least 80 years old when I was living there, as Niner and I pulled up the 'tile' in one of the upstairs bedrooms and there were newspapers under the tile dated back to the 1920's. And so I'm guessing at some point electricity was added to this house somewhat as an after thought.

The only actual light switches in this house were for the porch light and for the front living room. The rest of the house was pull string switches. I'm a wuss when it comes to being in the dark, so I would have the light on in the living room, then have to walk to the kitchen, pull string light, then back to the living room, shut off that light, then up the stairs, pull string light, then back to the kitchen, shut off pull string light, then into Niner's room, pull string light, back to the stairs, shut off pull string light, then to my room, pull string light, back to Niner's room, pull string light, then finally to my bed.

Yes I know I could've walked in the dark, or just skipped a few of those lights, but my room was dark and Niners room was messy and I had to walk through her room to get to my room and god only knows what I'd step on walking blindly through her darkened room. Plus if I couldn't find the pull string in the dark, I would get panicked and start frantically swinging my arm in the air like a blind mad woman searching for the pull string. And it seems the drunker I was the more vivid my imagination would turn my clothes strewn about my floor into, snakes, gators or goblins inching thier way closer to nip at my toes. It just wasn't good for my heart.

The bathroom

The toilet in this house was also apparently an after thought. It was built under the stairs, again fashioned with a pull string light. The coolest thing about this bathroom was the bear claw bathtub, the most uncool thing about this bathroom was its lacking of plumbing, in which case I mean, it lacked a sink. So after using said toilet, one must either wash up in the tub, or in the kitchen. Which is where the only sink in the whole house was located.

But something really cool was waking up on a nice spring day, going down to the john only to find a nice little mushroom had grown out of the base of the toilet where the actual toilet met the floor. Really was a great way to bring the outdoors in...

Additionally, since there was only a bathtub in this residence, this also became the decline of my cleanliness. It was just such a pain in the arse to bath everyday. When you wake up 15 mins before class is supposed to start, and go from classes to work to home again, by the time you walk in the door at 9 p.m. taking a bath is the last thing on your mind.... no more like 'hey where's E-Z E? (E-Z E was our beer bong) and whose place we at tonight?' was more the way our minds went. Plus we had a theory about cleanliness. "Cleanliness is next to Godliness" so for some odd reason, when we went out after getting all gussied up, no one would hit on us, but if we went out after not bathing for a week, the guys were abound....Thinking back now, it grosses me out somewhat, kinda makes me think "what kinda scent were we putting off?"

The bedrooms

The bedrooms (bedrooms being a term I use very loosely here) were connected. As I stated before, I had to walk through Niner's room to get to my room. She had the only closet, I had a makeshift rod just sorta hangin on the wall. I was able to utilize about 10 percent of the rod, as the other 90 percent was being used by someone elses clothes. Whose clothes? I have no idea, apparently the landlord's son (who used to live there but was in the army or something) I don't know I didn't ask questions. You tend to not raise much of a stink over such trivial things when your only paying $42/month for rent.) There was also a dresser that didn't belong to me filled with someone elses clothes. Really the only thing in the room that was actually mine was a fan, my clothes (which were mostly on the floor)and a crate that I set my clock on. The bed wasn't even mine. Which also thinking back kinda grosses me out, cuz who knows how many people actually used that bed. Well I guess I'm still alive, so it couldn't have been too bad.

Gas heater, toilet explosion and learning a life lessons

So the house had just one gas heater located in what I guess you would call the dining room. It was supposed to heat the whole house. Though heating an 80 year old home when the temp outside is 15 below freezing and the wind chill factor was 30 below freezing doesn't really do a whole lot. One Christmas break, Niner and I both left for about a week to go home, and the pipes busted. We came home to a black soot explosion in our bathroom. Sewage everywhere. It was disgusting and had been siting there for god knows how long. Lesson #1, don't turn the heat completely off when leaving on break, cuz yo pipes will break.

So with this heater, lets just say our heating bills were high. And since our rent was so expensive we went a few months without paying the bill. Though in climates such as ours in Northeastern Nebraska, we found out that they won't turn your gas off for not paying your bill. We were quite pleased with this. So we continued to keep our house all toasty and warm. This is where lesson #2 comes into play...Then came March, and in March in Nebraska, ol Mother Nature can sometimes surprise you with a nice warm day, or maybe even a few nice warm days, like 3 in a row...the 3 in a row being the operative phrase. Yes apparently the gas company isn't allowed to shut off your gas unless you have 3 days of temps above a certain temp. And we had apparently reached that threshold, as I came home one day to discover no more heat. And furthermore a $500 gas bill for not paying for like 3 months. Well it was March, almost April...I was moving in May....we'd be ok...hmmmm not so much.

Nebraska is quite notorious for teasing it's residents with an early spring only to be side-swiped by an April blizzard or freezing rain. We knew this and we didn't care, when the temps dropped, we just bundled up to watch TV, sipped cocoa spiked with peppermint schnapps, I signed on for a few extra overnights at my job, we made it through, we're midwestern girls, takes a lot to bring us down.

And leaving

I moved out that May, after graduation, though I didn't walk, they probably wanted me to pay my parking tickets or something, in order to walk across the stage. I was taking a stance, I thought it was BS that I had to pay $30/year to park on campus, so I just reused parking tickets I got previously, placed them on my car and went to class, this worked for a while but after some time, the campus cops got wise to my game, and started issuing me tickets again. I ended up having to pay those tickets to to get my diploma, my mother was begining to get suspicious that I didn't even graduate since I didn't have a diploma to prove that I did. And yes I realize it would've been cheaper to just buy a damn sticker, hmmm maybe I actually learned three lessons living in that house.

So that spring after classes were done I left Wayne America and the house on 114 South Lincoln. I left my cat Doogie with Niner, I left my area rug, my futon, my chair...everything that didn't fit in my Cavelier and went home. Off to join the Navy...or so I thought. Who knew then that a few months later a couple of planes would crash into some buildings and send everything into a tailspin...

I could've found out who killed JonBenet

My part-time job is a phone gig. I answer the roll-over calls for approximately 500 self-storage facilities throughout the United States, Canada and Puerto Rico. And anyone who has ever worked a phone gig knows, there are plenty of crazies out there.

Me: Thank-you for choosing Medical Center Self Storage, my name is Lynnette, are you looking to rent storage?

Crazy Lady: No, I'm calling to get the documents relating to the Jon Benet Ramsey trial.

Me: Um...excuse me?

Crazy Lady: I need to get the documents on Jon Benet Ramsey.

Me: I'm sorry ma'am you do know you are calling a self storage facility right?

Crazy Lady: I was told to call and I could get the trial documents for the Jon Benet Ramsey trial.

Me: Well, I don't have any information regarding that, the manager may know what it is you need, I could forward a message over to them and have them call you back tomorrow.

Crazy Lady: Could you mail the documents?

Me: No, I don't have any documents that I can mail you, I will have to have the manager give you a call back to see it they can help you. What is your first name.

Crazy Lady: Doctor Misty

Me: Your first name is Doctor?

Crazy Lady: No M-i-s-t-y and my last name is Dunlap, D-u-n-l-a-p. (I don't know where the doctor came from but I swear she referred to herself as a doctor, a doctor of what you got me, maybe doctor crazy)

Me: Ok ma'am I'll forward your message over and have the manager give you a call back tomorrow.

Then about 30 minutes later, I get another call coming in from the same property.

Me: Thank-you for choosing ... Blah blah blah... (low and behold its the crazy lady again.)

Crazy Lady: Hi, I just wanted to let you know that I gave it all to Jesus.

Me: I'm sorry, what?

Crazy Lady: Yes this is Doctor Misty and I took all the information I had on Jon Benet Ramsey and gave it all to Jesus.

Me: Um...Ok...

Crazy Lady: I know who killed Jon Benet, and I am contacting all the witnesses.

Me:(big pause here on my end... I mean what does one say to this? I thought of asking her if she went to the police with this information but I thought better of it. Instead I just said...) I'm sorry ma'am I don't know what you are talking about. I don't understand what you want me to do, this is a self storage facility.

Crazy lady: Oh you don't know what I'm talking about, well that's just fine then. That's ok, I'll just give it to Jesus then.

Me: Ok, is there anything else I can help you with? (we are supposed to ask this at the end of every call and sometimes in situations like this when I could not ask it, I like to do it anyway to see if I can antagonzie the caller, its a fun little game I like to play to amuse myself)

Crazy Lady: No, I will just contact the witnesses myself. Because I know who killed Jon Benet.

Me: Ok well thank-you for calling and you have a good night.

This is a little late, but still worth mentioning...

So Spanks McDudals came for a visit over the Fourth.

She brought her lil buddy with her.

This is Jackson, or Jack for short. I like to take pictures of sleeping doggies.

She apparently had quite the trip. On her way up, whilst jammin to some MJ, you know ... windows down, music up, that's the way she likes to ... drive.

Well anyway, while driving with said windows down, and the MJ up, she came upon a cattle truck. You know a semi filled with cattle, with the holes on the side ... well call it perfect timing or right place, wrong time. She got a little manure slung on her.

To know Spanky is to know that these sort of happenings are sort of par for the course for her. Whether she is putting her shirt on inside out, sitting on a pen and getting an ink spot on her arse or driving by a manure truck and coming away with a bit of pre fertilizer on herself...

We went to a fireworks show.

I learned that it is very hard to take pictures of fireworks.

I also got to see my very first professional baseball game. And I must say I was entertained. I think we had more fun annoying the people who were not as fortunate to be seated by us, but I do believe we won, and we also got to see Texas Stadium from afar.

That thing is a beast.

We had a large group, we pretty much took up the whole row. Which is nice, you don't feel so bad walking over people you know to relieve yourself or go get more food.

They also had a fireworks show after the game. We watched it from the parking lot. We should've left. Note to anyone going out that direction to see a game or a concert...traffic is a bitch.

The next day started off with us just laying around the house. Mostly just Spanky and the boys. (Scuse Steamers balls, he's not very shy)

We did make it down to Oaklawn that day.

And the highlight of the trip seemed to be finding this grab machine thingy. Both Spanky and Mr. Vasey made away with prizes.

I mostly just sat back and watched.

What can I say, we had a pretty good time.

Too bad her trip home wasn't quite as great.

Pound Puppies

Saturday morning TV just isn't the same anymore.

I remember when the Smurfs were on, with Gargamel on the constant pursuit of the little elusive blue creatures, of Papa Smurf and his squirrelly brood.

I also remember watching the Transformers and I remember falling in love with the Pound Puppies. They also sold them in stores, the Pound Puppies, and you could adopt one, name it, it came in this little box that kinda resembled a doggie house, they were so cute. I wanted one, didn't get one, but Treebee did...she got everything I wanted, I was such an abused middle child.

But back to the Pound Puppies....

These are our Pound Puppies.

This one is Steamboate. (He's English)

And this is Flaire Bear.

We've had Flaire for a little over a year. He's a pretty good boy. Likes to play a little rough, so he ain't no wussy man's dog.

He'd been at the pound for about 3 months, his days were counted. Not to mention he, by all accounts is a Pit Bull, he was probably on his way to the death chamber in a few days. As a matter of fact the day we got him, Mr. Vasey actually got to the animal shelter past the time when they allow people back to view the dogs, but when he said he was there to see our lil Flaire, they gladly let him back to see if he would be a good fit for us.

And Steamers was a rescue dog. He was born to a mommy doggie who was in the rescue and so they kept the puppies and tried to find them furever homes as well. Steamers was the last of the litter, just him and one other male, they'd been there a while past their brothers and sisters, which I can't understand why, he's about the most loveable little guy. My only complaint is he likes to wake me up at the butt crack of dawn. But it's hard to say no to these faces.


Which brings me to my point.

I read this story today, it was linked to CNN.com and I also came accross this story from a communitybulletin board I read, this isn't something new. In my former life as a community newspaper reporter, at least 2-3 times a month a press release from the SPCA of Texas would come accross my desk all telling the same tale. Between the dog fighting and puppie mills hundreds of dogs siezed. All bred and overbred just so some redneck scum can make a few bucks.

People buying puppies keeps these kinds of lowlifes in business. They are just as bad as those that breed them for fighting, an illegal money making business. As are puppy mills, or should be in my opinion. And the people that buy these puppies are really no better than those that sit ringside at a dog fight, they are keeping an illegal business, in business.

Thousands upon thousands of pure bred animals are in need of homes. It makes me sick to think of the thousands of other dogs that are bred under questionable conditions, treated appallingly and infested with a host of illnesses, and people would rather get that, then a dog that's probably already lived in a home, is already potty trained and will love you furever, but instead will have suffer a death at the hands of an animal control officer because, they gave him his chance and they needed to make room for even more unwanted dogs.

Rescue groups are overrun with pure bred dogs, a simple search on-line and you can see, often they have to turn doggies away because they just can't seem to get rid of the ones they have fast enough to keep up with the ever growing pet population.

Now I understand, there are breeders out there and they are doing what they do for the betterment of the breed, and I'm ok with that, they have quite stringent conditions for homing their puppies and they don't over breed their momma's. But those kinds of breeders are few and far between. Real breeders don't advertise, they don't need to.

I don't say this to chastise those who have bought their pets from so called breeders. So don't be getting your panties in a wad, I say this for awareness, so that maybe next time you'll save one, who needs a furever home. And stop supporting the needless abuse of animals.

So the moral of the story, adopt. And in the words of the great Bob Barker, "Please help control the pet population, spay and neuter your pets." Because I know you think your pooch is the greatest thing since sliced cheese, but don't get your bitch pregnant so you can have a bunch of adorable puppies running around that look like your dog. Because 1. you can't keep them all 2. responsible pet owners don't breed for the hell of it.