Here I Go Again

On the hiking trail again today. Ahead of me were two women walking a large sheepdog.

Woman 1: You know what I read recently - is that in larger cities like in New York, you can now rent pets. Isn't that great?

Woman 2: [laughing] Are you serious?

Woman 1: Oh yeah! You can rent a pet for while, or a weekend, or rent one for a walk. I mean, I guess in a big city maybe you don't want a pet for life, but it'd be nice for here or there, or for a day.

Woman 2: Yeah, I guess it's a good thing huh? You can sell anything these days!

Woman 1: Yeah, like maybe if you were a divorced Dad and had the kids for a weekend, you could rent a puppy or a dog for the kids. Or if you were lonely, you could rent a dog for the week. What a great idea! Pet Rentals!

~~~~~~~
YEAH. Because animals don't bond at all, hmmmm? They have no feelings, no separation anxiety, and should be treated as RENTAL PROPERTY, yes? Let's just rent them out to the kind of humans who actually think animals are rent-able and continue to reinforce the notion that we humans seem to think that creatures other than us are disposable. Yes, brilliant.

Next up: how I feel about renting abandoned children! Not sure if you want children?
Rent a Kid! Try it on!

I swear I need a room in my house where I can just smash stuff. I need a fainting couch.

Violating My Rights

First of all, can someone please tell me what happened to Monday through Thursday? They occurred? Because I'm not sure I was present for any of it. My migraine could tell you more, but screw it - it has monopolized enough of my week already.

So anyway, I get up this morning and schlep toward my loving espresso machine (oh, gawd how I love and adore THEE), make my magic elixir, and head toward the bathroom to kitten up. As I'm slathering lotion on my face - which IS my eternal routine, pre-shower - Tony proceeds to schlep behind me toward the shower....and SO, I start to angle MY way toward the shower....

Tony: What are you doing? Are you trying to SHOWER BLOCK me?
Ann: Dude, I was the FIRST one UP, I have shower rights!
Tony: You're shower blocking me - you're walking over here, eyes closed, rubbing crap on your face - trying to block me from getting in the shower!
Ann: I totally have shower rights, I was first up, I have my espresso right here - CLEARLY the shower is mine!
Tony: I just turned on the shower, too late for a shower block - it's mine.
Ann: Wow. You just totally violated the 1st Amendment of Shower Rights. I was first UP...

Okay....I was UP FIRST, did I or did I NOT have shower rights? I think I totally did. OH the conditions I must live under in this household. The CONDITIONS!

Would You Bite This Face?

Okay, well, maybe a nibble - but I digress already.

I've been waging a war in my own backyard. The other morning, my furlicious love muffin, Marcel Verdel Purcell, came in from the yard in some kind of terrible distress. So, I scooped his shaking little body up into my arms - and hello - some ants crawled from his beard onto my hand. FIRE ANTS. Otherwise known as little fuckers. I'm sorry for the language, but please, in this case - it applies in no uncertain terms. A small army of these militants invaded my Marcel and were biting him! He is okay - the ants were removed, liquid benadryl given, and many kisses were doled out to his deliciousness. But let me tell you - the reason they're called fire ants? Yeah, because the bite feels like FIRE. Probably didn't need to point that out, but I'm driving it home.

But Mama Bear? OH. Mama Bear is PISSED. Normally, I don't kill insects - the creaturist in me just feels bad about it - so I bring them outside and tell them to please stay there next time, go find your own mortgage. But the fire ants? They are GOIN' DOWN, people. It'd be one thing if they had bitten me - because I'm sure I have some karma to pay. I'm sure I even have some insect-specific karma to pay - there are probably plenty of insects who want to stick it to me, and that's fine. Take the karma, just take it already.






















But Marcel? This little 3.4-pound creature who spends his days spreading joy, blasting out love, and licking nostrils? I am quite sure he has no real karma to pay - at least not in the form of these bastard fire ants. These war mongers. And nobody, and I mean nobody, messes with my dogs. Mama.Bear.Grows.Fangs.

So, I don't care what it takes - but if I have to wear a Hazmat Suit and some night vision goggles - and crawl amidst the cacti and the geckos and the spiders in my backyard: I WILL end the colonization that has taken over my backyard. And the Queen Ant of all these little bastards? I don't know where that bitch is, but I'll find her. I'm sure she's sitting on some little poof of special queen sand while her male underlings bring her food and MORE FOOD and she orders them to bite bite MORE BITE. Well I just cannot get on board with that level of gluttony and servitude - and I AM COMIN' for you, princess.

That is all.

[Update 4 hrs. later: Phew! That felt good. Now that it's off my chest: isn't he just the cutest widdle nookie wookie wub dub? Don't you just wanna get up in there and smushie wooshie cushie fooshie? Oh shut up, self.]

I Can't Quit You

Well, this is not about food today. It's about my freakish ability to linger in indecision. Those of you who know me, nod your heads - and then shake them in disdain and "over-it-ness". I am so over myself right now. I am quite possibly the most indecisive insect (how I'm categorizing myself at the moment) on the planet. Do you know how annoying that is for me? Not to mention others forced to deal with me? Others: my deepest sympathies. Self: you need to hire a professional bitch-slapper, like yesterday. Not only that, but when I finally DO make a decision - I agonize over its correctness for days and weeks on end.

So, do you know who my indecision is the perfect match for? Well, that'd be a certain service where you can buy and print your stamps online. I decided, after paying about $20 a month for 3 months of service and using $0 per month in stamps, that it really didn't serve a purpose in the household. Make sense? Yes, perfect. So, I call them up and try to quit them. Well, dang if I'm not treated to every pleasantry known to woman - and before I know it, I've been credited all service fees, given 3 months of free service and $20 worth of free postage credited to my account - SURE I'll stay.

Couple days later, I'm all - what was I thinking? So, I print my free postage, get all puffed up, decide to call them up, and state again that I truly just don't need the service. Once again, I'm given 3 more months of free service, they knock me down to the "less expensive" monthly plan, send me some complimentary net-stamps, and credit my account with $20 more of free postage....."just call us back by July 30th to cancel - just give us a try until then". And I, completely entranced or perhaps drugged by that point, replied breathlessly "oooookkkaaayyyy, Kimberlyyyyyy". And hung up. And now I'm wondering if there is a subliminal message playing over the phone line, forcing me to stay - because I am never this obtuse. I can't quit them.

Remember the episode of Friends when Ross can't quit his gym membership? So then he asks Chandler, I think? And Chandler can't do it either? So, then - what happens - do they ask Monica - is that it, and she finally takes care of it?
WELL, MY GOD I NEED A MONICA, PEOPLE.

Focus Pocus, Drink More Mochas

Normally, part of my Saturday morning routine is a Target run to pick up all the requisite supplies - and I actually sort of enjoy this part of my weekend. Being an insomniac, I'm usually up between 4-5:00am - so I'm insanely grateful that Target opens its doors at 8:00am because, by that time, I am bouncing off the walls for something to do. Tony is usually still asleep, despite all the non-ambient noise I've attempted - and, by this time, I've had enough of his show-boating his sleeping mojo. So, my little excursions are a bit of a haven. Except...recently...

I was exiting after acquiring the needed provisions and I looked toward my car - to pre-strategize whether the provisions should go in the cargo area or side door. I noticed a woman putting her stuff away in her cargo area - she finished, then proceeded to very intentionally place her shopping cart - now that she was done with it - directly behind my car, as in - directly! Now, at first, I made sure I was awake - and indeed I was. Next, I quickly glanced around to look for hidden cameras or whatever - maybe that show "Boiling Point" was about to nail me big time. Nope.

Keep in mind, the cart keeper (place where you put your cart once you're finished) is literally 10 feet away. SO, as I'm now within speaking distance, I say "Um, are you planning on leaving that cart behind my car?" as I'm now laughing a bit - from sheer disbelief. And she looks at me with disdain, looks at the cart, and says "Yes, I am". So, I put my stuff away, put my cart away, and wait for her to get in her Mercedes, and start her car. Then I go to move HER cart. GUESS WHERE I MOVED IT?

Well, needless to say, that little ninnyhammer really chapped my ass - and sometimes, I let incidences like that ruin my whole day - because then I begin to lose faith in the entire human race BECAUSE OF A SHOPPING CART, PEOPLE. My entire focus can move from satisfying-provisional-shopping-experience to catastrophic-suspicion-of-permanent-loss-of-any-trace-of-humanity, all due to a shift of cart. Little did I know a cart was such an equalizer.

So, what did I do? Well, I fought fire with fire, of course - I found a worthy equalizer. I went immediately to the nearest Starbucks and ordered a Mocha, heavy chocolate. The chocolate changed my focus on contact and no one cut in line, it was like I was at Saintbucks. Ahhhhh. All was right in my world again.

Plus, I could grab a whole bunch of FREE sugar packets on my way out - which I could then pour into a certain gas tank. Oh, the humanity!