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?
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
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...
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...
Monday, July 13, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, July 10, 2009
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.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Am I too old for this?
Chauncy or #2 sent me this link today and I was like...hmm...what's this....I clicked on it, had me a good ol laugh. And thought I need to send this to all my friends, and then I thought....hmmm am I too old for this? www.thingsididlastnight.com I don't care.
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