This is the fourth time somebody came to my blog by searching “peeing mania.com”!!! WTF? I’m telling you, there are some sick, SICK people out there.
Not only there are sick people visiting my site, there are some other strange people ending up here by searching some strange stuff. Somebody came here searching for “cat puncture wound smells like poop”. Uh… HELLO THERE! IF YOUR CAT HAS A PUNCTURE WOUND, TAKE THE CAT TO THE EMERGENCY VET!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING GOOGLING THE “SYMPTOM” OF A PUNCTURE WOUND???? And by the way, if it does smell like poop, common sense should tell you the cat’s gastrointestinal tract is punctured somewhere!
Do you know what kind of strange search people do to get to your site? Here are some other examples of what people searched to arrive here:
- fear of baby poop
- licking herself
- poop talk
- my bowel movement smells like bleach
So I’m thinking my blog is not hitting the target audience… oh wait… What kind of people ARE my target audience…?
I’m sooo massaging my shoulders and elbows and every single joint I have. Vigorously. And oh, let’s not forget the neck! I didn’t know I was capable of feeling strong emotions from watching anybody dance. I was wrong. I felt suspense. Oh the absolute horror I felt when he gave the “bonus” performance at a judge’s request!!! I was so picturing him collapsing with his neck bent backwards and the back of his head touching his back. Shudders. I could almost hear this neck crack! Dang, I get goosebumps just thinking about it.
I think he Can Dance – Watch more free videos
Last week, after reading a friendly twitter dude bc’s blog, I immediately proceeded to send my name to the moon because I think it’s one of the coolest things, like ever! As you can see below in the certificate, my name is the 994,006th added to the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbitor “Send Your Name to the Moon” Project.
Click on the image for a larger view.
I, of course, felt the need to send my mom’s, dad’s, and two sisters’ names along with all my beasts’ names including the ones who passed away. And for a good measure, I threw in my friend’s dog Houston’s name as well, whose owner, quite oddly, wasn’t excited at all about it.
No need to be jealous, you still have time to send your name to the moon. Don’t be tardy and do it before June 17, 2008 deadline according to NASA’s LRO page. And yes, Alice Kramden’s name has already been added by the aforementioned friend.
But I did. I failed to consult my organizer to check if there’s any important shit I was supposed to be reminded of. On May 20th of 2005, I started suffering from a severe chronic pain on my backside; the kind of pain that you get used to and you even miss it when you don’t suffer from it and you wish you never have to part from the pain as long as you live. The pain named Foster. Yes, 5/20 was Foster’s Gotcha day. I flew down to Newport News airport, VA, rented an SUV, drove to Baja-Ma‘s house to pick him up, and drove back up to NY. And Foster has been the royal pain in my fat ass ever since.
Photo taken by PrincessGinger
Foster was abandoned by his owners – bastards! – who moved out and left him in the yard to fend for himself when he was only about 2 months old. A kind man noticed a poor skinny pup without food or water, so he took him, named him Foster, and contacted his friend PrincessGinger. She fostered him for about 6 months while trying to adopt him out to a good home without success. Having born with the fate of a big black dog, people who showed any interest in him were people who wanted to leave him outside as a guard dog and such. Then PrincessGinger’s landlord wanted Foster out. I agreed to take over the search for the right family but I couldn’t go get him myself and PrincessGinger couldn’t get him to me either so Foster had to be boarded. Then Baja-Ma who lives at about halfway point between me and PrincessGinger stepped in to foster him. So one day PrincessGinger and her BF drove Foster up and dropped him off at Baja-Ma’s house.
Photo taken by PrincessGinger
Unfortunately, Baja-Ma’s resident Beagle Jade was not keen on having to share her humans and didn’t like her domain invaded by a rambunctious puppy full of energy and it was disrupting an otherwise peaceful home – read people lost sleep. I rushed to make plans to go get him and 10 days later, I met Baja-Ma at her house, who, by the way, didn’t look too happy to see me at all and didn’t feel the need to fake happiness either – she later gave me a lame excuse like I woke her up or something, yeah, uh huh. I loaded Foster up and headed home.
On our way home, we stopped at G’s house in Onancock, VA. Now People! The stress is on the second syllable, and there are TWO n’s in Onancock! DO NOT DROP THE SECOND N!!! I knew G through Petfinder message board, and she so desperately wanted to help me by doing some of the driving so that I didn’t have to drive too much, in which case I would have completely missed the pleasure of meeting Baja-Ma and seeing her jump up and down with happiness for finally getting to meet me. But G’s location made it difficult for her to help me, so I stopped by for lunch and had a very nice visit with G, who by the way looked very happy to see me unlike certain somebody I mentioned earlier. Also her Golden Retriever named Rookie helped tire out Foster for the long drive ahead.
When we arrived home, Foster must have thought he died and went to hell and Grizzley was the Satan. Foster saw Grizzley lying under the coffee table, and lowered his head to investigate the kitty cat. Grizzley, not having any of that, and why should he in his age, hissed and air-whacked him without even getting up. The scene that followed is something you would have seen in a cartoon where Foster immediately tried to turn and haul ass but getting zero traction on the hardwood floor, he ran for his life at the exact same spot for a few seconds before he took off out of the living room and hurried into his crate, and didn’t come out for the rest of the evening.
I started the search for Foster’s forever home, and abandoned the effort in a couple of months or so later. He was cute. He was a pain. He was PAINFULLY cute. He was adorable. He was a pain. He was PAINFULLY adorable. More than anything, he was a good natured, I-love-everybody, OMG-life-is-great happy-go-lucky puppy who constantly made me laugh everyday. He was a pain. I was in love. He was a pain. I absolutely loved him and couldn’t let him go.
I would have decided to keep him sooner if I didn’t feel that Foster, the only “normal” and adoptable dog at home, could find a much better family who could take care of him much better than I ever could. But a not very trusting misanthrope I am, I convinced myself that he’s a pain enough to be called a “special case”. I still feel somewhat guilty about it sometimes for having kept him for selfish reasons. Kind people have told me I have to be selfish some time. Well, I just hope Foster feels the same way.
Happy belated gotcha day, Foster! …pain in the ass…
The other day, I commented in one of Baja-Ma’s blog about my favorite Yankees t-shirt with “What the hell is Ansky?” printed in the front. It reminded me of one of my favorite commercials, which that t-shirt stems from, and wanted to share it. Then I completely forgot about it since you know, if I don’t write a blog about something the minute it pops inside the gray matter housed in my skull, fat chance that it would ever show up in my blog. But what do you know, I remembered because for some reason several people in the office put NY Yankees’ hats either on their desks or on top of the cubicles all of a sudden – well, they have probably been there for a while, but I just noticed. Either way, here is the commercial people outside New York most likely haven’t seen.
PS. I was just informed that every employee received a Yankees hat with the company logo on the back of it. We lowly consultants don’t get shit.
Serious Stuff. Seriously
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