Sunday, July 30, 2006
Melissa's Blog
Right now (at this very moment), Melissa is writing something “inappropriate” in her blog (shit…she just giggled that the entry she is working on right now is going to be really good…I’m so screwed). So, before all of you stop reading this entry to check out what she has said this time, PLEASE hear me out! I am well aware that many of my fans are very concerned about what I really do in my spare time, but I would like to reinstate that Melissa’s blog is NOT the place to be looking for answers. Just because Melissa and I are pretty much a package deal DOES NOT mean that we do EVERYTHING the same way (or together for that matter).
For whatever reason, my family secretly thinks that I am a screw up. From early on, I have been guilty by association with my friends. However, unlike many of my friends, I was NOT kicked out of boarding school, nor did I EVER have to go to rehab. I’m a good kid…I swear! I was always on honor roll…but I guess my parents think I just got lucky or cheated my way through it all. I really don’t know what they think that I’m hiding, but every time I tell them I can’t go with them to dinner because I need to study or write a paper, they think I’m ditching them for some guy or wild party.
Melissa thought about making a new blog site so she could write freely without getting me into trouble, but I don’t see why that is necessary. My family should be able to trust me. After all, I do tell them all about my personal life and problems (most of which probably shouldn’t be discussed sober outside of a bathroom…I think y’all know what I’m talking about). In fact, most of y’all wish that I wouldn’t give so much information…or at least put a little more thought into the way I present my um…information. So, just because MY blog is pg13 and Melissa’s is more uh…x-rated, does not mean in ANY way that I am leaving out important details. I would elaborate more on this, but Melissa has just crawled over to show Dolly the ‘correct’ way to chew her bone (no, she isn’t drunk), and I feel like I should be monitoring this in some way.
For whatever reason, my family secretly thinks that I am a screw up. From early on, I have been guilty by association with my friends. However, unlike many of my friends, I was NOT kicked out of boarding school, nor did I EVER have to go to rehab. I’m a good kid…I swear! I was always on honor roll…but I guess my parents think I just got lucky or cheated my way through it all. I really don’t know what they think that I’m hiding, but every time I tell them I can’t go with them to dinner because I need to study or write a paper, they think I’m ditching them for some guy or wild party.
Melissa thought about making a new blog site so she could write freely without getting me into trouble, but I don’t see why that is necessary. My family should be able to trust me. After all, I do tell them all about my personal life and problems (most of which probably shouldn’t be discussed sober outside of a bathroom…I think y’all know what I’m talking about). In fact, most of y’all wish that I wouldn’t give so much information…or at least put a little more thought into the way I present my um…information. So, just because MY blog is pg13 and Melissa’s is more uh…x-rated, does not mean in ANY way that I am leaving out important details. I would elaborate more on this, but Melissa has just crawled over to show Dolly the ‘correct’ way to chew her bone (no, she isn’t drunk), and I feel like I should be monitoring this in some way.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Miss Dolly
Now that Dolly is "an old woman," the vet said she is supposed to stay inside and sleep a lot. Since that is what I stereotypically spend the majority of my time doing, PIB decided that Dolly should come live with me for "a while." So, as soon as I got back from Colorado, PIB dumped Dolly at my place...something about how she is my dog and how I'm supposed to take some sort of responsibility for her. I guess it makes sense with child support laws and all (even though she is...a DOG)!
Dolly used to hate coming to visit me because the service generally sucks at my apt. I mean, Melissa and I can hardly take care of ourselves. It's already hard enough for me to remember to take my meds and make it to class on time. So, you can probably imagine how stressful it was for me to remember to feed and walk Dolly. I tried to rationalize that since I usually sleep through breakfast, Dolly could do the same and just get extra dinner. It would really piss me off every time a car would pull up because Dolly would get all excited thinking that it was PIB coming to rescue her or something. What a bitch! To teach her a lesson, Melissa and I would make her watch that animal precinct show on TV while we were out doing stuff so she could see just how bad some doggies have it.
Apparently when PIB brought Dolly over this time, however, she got all excited. I think that she now thinks of my apt as a spa of some sort. She has gotten very demanding in her old age, and I think that she knows how to manipulate me. To get me up in the morning, she starts licking her paw for like an hour. Usually I can sleep through anything, but she licks SO loud and SO consistently that it drives me nuts! There is nothing on her friggin’ paw…she just does it to spite me cuz she knows that it's annoying as hell. I let her out to pee, and, luckily, since it so hot, she doesn’t really want to be outside anyway, and does all her business really quick and doesn’t really need to go out again ‘til around dinner time.
The second I let her back in she runs over to her bowl and stares at me like I'm dumb or something. If I try to go back to bed she just barks at me, so I go ahead and pour her kibble in her bowl along with her arthritis medicine to shut her up. She used to eat her medicine with her food, but she has taught me a pretty neat trick: she knows that she has to take that stupid pill, so she eats around the pill and leaves it in the bowl. I was so pissed the first time she did it that I shoved the pill down her throat, but that just made her puke on my carpet. So, now every morning I have to wrap the friggin’ pill in cheese to get her to eat it. The other day she tried to nibble the cheese off of the pill in order to get me to put more cheese on it, but I wasn’t gonna fall for that shit, and I think she knew it. It really is annoying how she kinda expects a dessert of some sort after every meal. I try not to give in because PIB is always saying how she is on a diet, and that if she gains any more weight it is gonna cost extra to bathe her at the vet and that I would have to pay for it. I always tell Dolly, “No means no…” but she really knows how to work people. She gives you this sexy look when you’re trying to eat your food, and at first you get mad at her because she is begging, but then she just keeps staring at you as if to say, “Should you really be eating that, fatass? I won’t say anything if you give me some.” So, you end up giving her like, a third of your meal.
During the day, I usually drag her bed into the living room so she can watch TV and nap comfortably. In return, she usually doesn’t bother me for anything unless I’m in the kitchen eating something that she strongly believes I should be sharing. I think most of my friends scare her because when they come over she usually retreats back into my bedroom. When she has decided that it is time for my friends to leave, she comes back into the living room and starts going at it with her bed like mad. It’s really embarrassing, and she won’t stop until they all leave. She really doesn’t want me to have a social life unless it benefits her in some way. She knows my friends won’t feed her or feel sorry for her, so she tries to get rid of them, but when I’m sick and people come over to take care of me she really knows how to milk it…like when I got really sick and my mom would pretend to come over to take care of me, but she was really coming over to check on Dolly because she was worried that, since I was sick, I wasn’t gonna be able to meet all of Dolly’s needs. Dolly would give her this pathetic look and I would tell my mom that I was taking care of Dolly and that she has been getting to sleep in and get lots of treats and not to give her anything else, but then my mom would give her like, a second breakfast, and then Dolly would just give me this look like, “I’m better than you.”
I tried to tell PIB that Dolly treats me like her slave and how she is really controlling, but PIB tries to make clever statements like, “Dude! She’s a DOG!” I think that Dolly likes being here now because she knows she can abuse me. No one believes me. I’m starting to wonder what PIB meant when she said that Dolly will be staying with me for “a while.”
Dolly used to hate coming to visit me because the service generally sucks at my apt. I mean, Melissa and I can hardly take care of ourselves. It's already hard enough for me to remember to take my meds and make it to class on time. So, you can probably imagine how stressful it was for me to remember to feed and walk Dolly. I tried to rationalize that since I usually sleep through breakfast, Dolly could do the same and just get extra dinner. It would really piss me off every time a car would pull up because Dolly would get all excited thinking that it was PIB coming to rescue her or something. What a bitch! To teach her a lesson, Melissa and I would make her watch that animal precinct show on TV while we were out doing stuff so she could see just how bad some doggies have it.
Apparently when PIB brought Dolly over this time, however, she got all excited. I think that she now thinks of my apt as a spa of some sort. She has gotten very demanding in her old age, and I think that she knows how to manipulate me. To get me up in the morning, she starts licking her paw for like an hour. Usually I can sleep through anything, but she licks SO loud and SO consistently that it drives me nuts! There is nothing on her friggin’ paw…she just does it to spite me cuz she knows that it's annoying as hell. I let her out to pee, and, luckily, since it so hot, she doesn’t really want to be outside anyway, and does all her business really quick and doesn’t really need to go out again ‘til around dinner time.
The second I let her back in she runs over to her bowl and stares at me like I'm dumb or something. If I try to go back to bed she just barks at me, so I go ahead and pour her kibble in her bowl along with her arthritis medicine to shut her up. She used to eat her medicine with her food, but she has taught me a pretty neat trick: she knows that she has to take that stupid pill, so she eats around the pill and leaves it in the bowl. I was so pissed the first time she did it that I shoved the pill down her throat, but that just made her puke on my carpet. So, now every morning I have to wrap the friggin’ pill in cheese to get her to eat it. The other day she tried to nibble the cheese off of the pill in order to get me to put more cheese on it, but I wasn’t gonna fall for that shit, and I think she knew it. It really is annoying how she kinda expects a dessert of some sort after every meal. I try not to give in because PIB is always saying how she is on a diet, and that if she gains any more weight it is gonna cost extra to bathe her at the vet and that I would have to pay for it. I always tell Dolly, “No means no…” but she really knows how to work people. She gives you this sexy look when you’re trying to eat your food, and at first you get mad at her because she is begging, but then she just keeps staring at you as if to say, “Should you really be eating that, fatass? I won’t say anything if you give me some.” So, you end up giving her like, a third of your meal.
During the day, I usually drag her bed into the living room so she can watch TV and nap comfortably. In return, she usually doesn’t bother me for anything unless I’m in the kitchen eating something that she strongly believes I should be sharing. I think most of my friends scare her because when they come over she usually retreats back into my bedroom. When she has decided that it is time for my friends to leave, she comes back into the living room and starts going at it with her bed like mad. It’s really embarrassing, and she won’t stop until they all leave. She really doesn’t want me to have a social life unless it benefits her in some way. She knows my friends won’t feed her or feel sorry for her, so she tries to get rid of them, but when I’m sick and people come over to take care of me she really knows how to milk it…like when I got really sick and my mom would pretend to come over to take care of me, but she was really coming over to check on Dolly because she was worried that, since I was sick, I wasn’t gonna be able to meet all of Dolly’s needs. Dolly would give her this pathetic look and I would tell my mom that I was taking care of Dolly and that she has been getting to sleep in and get lots of treats and not to give her anything else, but then my mom would give her like, a second breakfast, and then Dolly would just give me this look like, “I’m better than you.”
I tried to tell PIB that Dolly treats me like her slave and how she is really controlling, but PIB tries to make clever statements like, “Dude! She’s a DOG!” I think that Dolly likes being here now because she knows she can abuse me. No one believes me. I’m starting to wonder what PIB meant when she said that Dolly will be staying with me for “a while.”
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Evil Gnome?
I don't know why, but, while attending boarding school in CT, I was dubbed "Gnome." Apparently it had something to do with my mischeivious nature and short stature {5'2" (PIB: don't give me shit. That's what it says on my drivers liscence...so it's like...the law)} in comparison with my siblings (who average about 6'). Soon after, people started giving me little gnomes as gifts because they apparently reminded them of me (which really never made much sense to me since I lack a beard and red, pointy hat). Any way, Turd gave me a small gnome and a book about gnomes as a present. After reading through the book, I learned that you are supposed to give every gnome figurine a name and a specific job. If you fail to do this, then the gnome may come to life and hide important things from you/try to ruine your life. Since the idea of little figurines coming to life in order to harm me in some way scares the living shit out of me, I quickly named all the creepy little dudes and gave them various jobs that I figured even the "specialist" of gnomes could perform. I named the gnome that Turd gave me, Hans, and told him that his job was to protect Mr. Pops (my turtle). A couple of days later, as some of you may remember, Mr. Pops was found dead on his bridge. Well, I didn't want to blame the tragedy on Hans since there was no sign of a struggle at the scene. So, after I had some time to grieve, I reassigned Hans to slightly easier jobs, such as making sure my printer didn't jam. Well, my printer never jamed, but that's only because ever since I gave Hans the job, the printer hasn't worked AT ALL! Coincidence? Well, I learned that gnomes are happiest in garden environments (hence "Garden Gnomes), and I decided that Hans was simply depressed and needed a change of scenery. So, as a last resort, I gave Hans the duty of tending to my potted plant (which had bloomed hot pink flowers all semester). First, all the petals wilted off, then the plant began to die. I tried to save the plant by adding some miracle grow to it, but the plant continued to wilt. Then, a week later, I noticed a weed growing in the pot. This made me come to the conclusion that this gnome was, in some way, evil. I decided to exile him from my apartment to live with someone I am not very fond of, but the gnome has gone missing! I'm really freaked out...what if he knew my plan for him and wants revenge?!?
Please Don't Judge Me
I've always enjoyed watching scary movies (even though most of them are corny), and I've recently gotten really into watching that stupid show, "Ghost Hunters." If you know me, then you probably know where this blog entry is going... You can make fun of me all you want, but I really think a fun trip would be to head up to Gettysburg and go on the battlefield tour during the day, then go on the ghost tour at night and stay in one of the haunted hotels. Personally, I don't believe in ghosts, but I am scared to death of them. Maybe I'm just a gullible adrenalin junkie that likes to get caught up in the moment. I'm sure that all of my friends think my cheese has slid off my cracker now that I am making this known to the blogger world. It's just that I can't find anyone dumb/nerdy enough to go with me. Sad, I know... I'm not saying that y'all would have to skip out on your precious spring break in any way. I'm just asking for someone to support this idea, if not for the thrill, then for the love of academia. (P.S.- I used the spell checker just for you, PIB.)
