Today I came home from work and took Brandy and Foster out, both of whom eagerly took off for the fence on the left side, which alerted me to the fact that there were not the usual one or two, not even three, not four, but eleven beach balls strewn next to the fence. I started screaming to the dogs to leave those alone and started to fetch one by one and toss them back to the other side of the fence. Foster, of course, came back and punctured one of them at once, which I wasn’t sorry about because hey, eleven beach balls? ELEVEN??? All on MY side of the fence? It’s not the first time their beach balls ended up on my side and I don’t mind tossing them back to their side once in a while. But this is pretty much an everyday occurrence; only this time it was a little too excessive in quantity.
I tried to like that neighbor. Honestly. I did try to not hate them since they moved in about a year ago. But the fact is, I hate selfish people. I hate people who are inconsiderate to others. Every single weekend, they are outside in the backyard barbecuing, eating, dancing and generally having a good time, which, in and of itself, I have no qualms about. But the blasting of music all day through late night for 2 days, I do have a problem with. Don’t these people realize there are OTHER people who live in the same block and not all of them like to hear Latino dance music jammed into their ears resulting in headaches because the music is so loud they can’t make phone calls from their own backyard? I like to consider myself a reasonable person and do understand this once in a while for a few hours at a time. But EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND? Not so much.
Their kids, is another story. First of all, I don’t even know how many kids live there. It’s either a large extended family or a main family with some others they rent the rooms to illegally. The house is a four-bedroom house with a basement, and there are so many people living there, they have six cars AND a landscaper’s truck. Either way, there are a lot of kids. And they don’t behave. When I’m outside with my dogs, they might yell “HEY! OLD LADY!” and run back inside. They might yell something pretending to speak Chinese, which I’m not. They might just generally scream their heads off for a few hours. They might climb up their chain-link fence and look into my backyard over the fence (since I have stockade fence, they can’t see through the chain link) despite me repeatedly telling them not to since Brandy gets all upset and wants to eat them and Georgia gets scared. And guess what one or two adults looking on tell their kids? That’s right. NOTHING. Not. A. Thing.
Basically, these people have no regards to people other than themselves. As I said before, I hate selfish inconsiderate people. These people are embodiment of selfishness and inconsiderateness. So I have decided that from now on, I’ll just let Brandy and Foster destroy those balls before tossing them back cause let’s face it, the balls are in our yard, it’s natural for them to try to play with them, and I don’t like yelling at them about it. Hey, I never claimed I was a nice person.
I think I’ve been all plurked out. Maybe it’s just the last couple of days, maybe not. The fact remains that I can’t think of anything to say in a plurk or in response to other plurk. Tonight especially, I found myself reading plurks and responses and tried to respond but drew blanks. Maybe it’s a good thing that I now finally am getting over this addiction.
Sadly, I’ve been trying to think of something to blog about for the last few days as well without success. What’s happening to me…?
The other day, I was giving Grizzley his pill wrapped up in this wonderful thing called pill pocket. Grizzley is in love with pill pockets, and he can’t wait to get his pill, sometimes trying to climb up my legs while I’m molding it around his pill. I gave it to him who devoured it as usual, and then I turned around to take Brandy’s pills out of the pill bottles, and suddenly it hit me. I looked at Brandy, who, upon seeing me tinkering with the pill bottles, already came as usual without me having to call her, and sat right next to me with her tail wagging with a big smile on her face as usual. I almost cried.
Why? Because I had never thought of using pill pockets for Brandy until then. It was always the crude open mouth insert pills method. But every time Brandy sees me taking pills out, she’s always there, sitting down with her tail wagging, waiting for me to shove those pills down her throat. That’s how fiercely loyal Brandy is. She doesn’t like pills being shoved down her throat of course. I know she doesn’t because it’s a little hard for her to willingly open her mouth for me. Just a little.
So the ungrateful me, goes out and buys pill pockets for Grizzley who absolutely refuses to take pills without hurting me, taking a finger or two perhaps, and keeps shoving the pills down the Brandy’s throat, who has to take 5 pills a day. How so fucked up is that scenario? Talk about taking somebody for granted…
Brandy loves this new arrangement, the pills in the pill pockets. She loves it a little too much, jumping up and down and everything. And of course when I give something to Brandy, I HAVE to give something to Foster as well, so I take some off and give it to him as well. So now when I tinker with pill bottles, Grizzle, Brandy and Foster gather around me hindering the process of pilling them, prolonging the time it takes to pill Grizzley and Brandy. I have to say I can’t be happier about it.
To fulfill the promise she made, although she’s not quite sure if indeed she made a promise. She might have said something like, she would update her blog but no promises or some such thing instead of she promises to update her blog. But some friends of hers are insisting that she made the promise and all she really remembers is the word “promise”, so here she is, yoonamaniac is updating her blog.
yoonamaniac asks, first of all, WHY THE HELL NOBODY TOLD HER THAT HER BLOG THEME CHANGED TO THE DEFAULT THEME????? She hates the default theme, SHE HATES!!!! Please, you guys, PLEASE let her know if that happens again while she’s busy plurking.
Now the first of all is over, second of all and third of all, etc upto last of all is this; she has been busy, as she pointed out in her previous post, feeding her Plurk addiction. And when she says she’s been busy, she means she’s been busy, quite literally. There are always plurks to respond and people to plurk. It got to the point where she always has 250 new responses waiting for her when she comes back to plurk after a few deplurked hours. 250 is the limit, you see, which means she really has more than 250 plurks she hasn’t read or responded to, but plurk displays 250 only. So now you understand, she really IS busy.
Anyway, she thanks her friends, namely, PrincessGinger, Tortilla, EssenceOfInsanity and vibrantandzany, who joined Plurk using her invite, which counts for some rewards in the form of cool smileys like Pulp-Fiction-dancing smiley, etc, when the number of friends who joins Plurk reaches 10. Baja-Ma, however, hadn’t checked this blog for such a long time, she hadn’t seen the invite and joined after hearing from Tortilla, most definitely not giving yoonamaniac a reward point. So yoonamaniac is a little ticked about it.
yoonamaniac made some wonderful new friends on Plurk as well, most of them brand spanking new friends, and some newish friends who she “met” on twitter. There are so many wonderful people she enjoys plurking with. As of now yoonamaniac has exactly 100 plurky friends and on account of not wanting to offend anybody, she is not going to list any of their plurky names here although she highly doubts anybody would come read this blog anyway since she has no plans to advertise her blog updates there. But she’s being cautious just in case. And if any of her new plurky friends is reading this, howdy! Plurk y’all laters!
P.S. To yoonamaniac’s friends and family not on Plurk, it’s hard to explain why she’s writing in third person. You just have to plurk for yourself. But yeah, honestly? Speaking in third person is the number one reason yoonamaniac loves to plurk. Who knew she is secretly one of those weirdos who drive everybody nuts by speaking in third person? But she is and if you join Plurk, you might be pleasantly surprised you absoplurkinglutely enjoy it too.
Yeah, I plurk. I might be addicted. So… umm.. gotta get back to plurking. Sorry, blog y’all laters.
If you want to join me in plurking, sign up! 
Strange weather patterns these days brought the dog days of summer about a month early. And just three days ago, I had to wear a jacket to take the dogs outside at night and I guess it’s all my fault because I had to tell everybody and their uncle that it’s the coolest May and June I’ve ever had in New York.
Georgia doesn’t care if it’s upper nineties outside. It doesn’t faze her a bit. She knows green goes well with her, and takes every opportunity to look good.
Brooklyn is relieved that it hasn’t rained for TWO straight days for a change and ground is acceptably dry for her to pee this morning. Of course it’s not that dry for her to stay on it right after. Being a winter dog, this weather is too hot for Brooklyn anyway.
Brandy gets quickly into her stalking position while Foster is distracted by a squirrel up on a tree in my neighbor’s yard. She tried once or twice to play, but it’s just too hot to play. I know when Brandy goes back to the door to look longingly inside, then it’s too hot period.
Upon not getting the expected scratches when he sat down in front of me, Foster quickly gets down to see if THAT would get him some scratches, then forgets all about it when distracted by a bee. His black fur absorbs heat and so his body gets hot really fast. Unlike the others, he doesn’t have the sense to seek out shades and usually lies down under the blazing sun panting like crazy.
At Dunkin Donuts in the morning.
“Can I help you?”
“Bacon, egg and cheese on a toasted plain bagel, please.”
“Any coffee?”
“No, but let me get a medium coffee coolatta.”
“Any donuts?”
“No.”
“So sausage, egg and cheese?”
“BACON, egg and cheese.”
“On a toasted croissant?”
“No, on a toasted plain BAGEL!”
“What kind of bagel?”
“PLAIN!”
“And a small coffee?”
“NO! MEDIUM COFFEE COOLATTA!”
At Subway in the afternoon.
Mr. Babu: “Yes?”
Me: “Roasted chicken breast on a whole wheat, please. six inch.”
Mr. Babu: “What kind of bread?”
Me: “Whole wheat”
Mr. Babu: “A foot long?”
Me: “No, six inch.”
Mr. Babu: “You don’t want a foot long?”
Me: “NO. I. Want. Six. Inch.”
Mr. Babu: “What kind of meat?”
Me: “Roasted chicken breast”
Mr. Babu: “Cheese?”
Me: “No cheese.”
Mr. Babu:”No cheese?”
Me: “No. Cheese!”
Mr. Babu: “Lettuce and tomato?”
Me: “Just lettuce, no tomato.”
Mr. Babu starts putting sliced tomatoes on the sandwich.
Me: “I said NO TOMATO.” (Looks around for the candid camera.)
Mr. Babu: “No tomato?”
Me: “NO. NO TOMATO.”
Mr. Babu: “Lettuce?”
Me: “Yes, please.” (Waits until he’s done with the lettuce part.)
Me: “Onions, please.” (Waits until he’s done with onions part.)
Me: “Pickles.” (Waits until he’s done with the pickles part.)
Me: “And jalapeños, please.”
Mr, Babu: “Hot peppers?” (Because we all know when somebody says jalapeños, that person needs to be informed that jalapeños are hot peppers, you see.)
Me: “Yes.” (Waits until he’s done with HOT PEPPERS.)
Me: “Honey mustard please.”
Mr. Babu starts wrapping the sandwich.
Me: “I SAID HONEY MUSTARD!”
Mr. Babu: “Oh”
I’ve forgotten that I should not say more than one thing at a time when ordering at these establishments since I haven’t frequented either Dunkin Donuts or Subway for a while. Not that it would have helped in Dunkin Donuts since she kept asking as if she already punched in the previous item. My friend and I used to complain about it because he has the same problem at Dunkin Donuts and Subway and he lives and works in Manhattan while I’m situated in Long Island.
I suspect you cannot work at Dunkin Donuts or Subway unless you are an expert on not listening to the customers the first and/or second time. Or maybe the corporate requires the new employees to be trained to NOT pay attention to the customers; the employees must attend the in-house training class, “How to annoy the customers by not paying attention” or maybe just “How to annoy the heck out of customers just because you can”. Because I tell you, this happens every single Dunkin Donuts and every single Subway EVERY SINGLE TIME.
That’s how he got his name, Houston. My friend Sam couldn’t decide on his name for a few days after adopting him, but he kept saying, Houston, we have a problem, because he was a problem child, much more problematic than usual 2 month old puppies. So the name Houston stuck.
Today, Sam and I were talking about how much Houston calmed down and how strong a chick magnet Houston is. Apparently, more than once, some people stopped to take pictures of Houston when Sam took him to the park on weekends. I miss him. I haven’t seen him for more than a year now. Sam and I still talk to each other since we work together, but we had a falling out, so we don’t hang outside work any more. So I was just going through pictures I have of Houston .
These pictures were taken in 2004 at a dog park in Van Cortlandt park in the Bronx, right after I got Brandy. He was a little over two years old.
When he’s standing straight up, his tail is shaped like a question mark. He’s an enigma.
Sniffing around with Brandy. See how rough Brandy’s coat was.
Handsome boy!
Eeeeehehehehe, you’re too funny!
I’m adorable! Let me bite you.
MJ is supposed to be twenty years old today, the big TWO-O, still a year short of drinking age not that it would stop her from drinking or anything cause I’m sure she started drinking at four. But man, time flies, eh? When I first virtually “met” her, she was only fifteen! But she looked like a thirteen year old until last year. I don’t know what happened last year, but all of a sudden, she started looking like, *GASP*, like an ADULT!
I “met” MJ online, through Petfinder message board. Then I got to meet her IRL, even though she wasn’t all that excited about our meeting, when I went to pick up Foster. We met again when MJ visited and stayed at my house, to take tons of pictures of NYC I presume, because she was bored or something and had nothing better to do that week.
MJ proclaims she’s a genius. I think that’s very close to the truth because I find that she can’t remember shit; I tell her something one day, and the next day, she would not only forget about it, she would not even remember any such conversation has ever taken place. So I think she IS a genius because every genius I’ve ever known is exactly like that. Naturally, I’m very happy to have MJ as a friend cause, you know, it’s a good thing to have a genius or two in your corner for… well, I don’t know, they must be good for SOMETHING, right?
Happy Twentieth Birthday, MJ!
Serious Stuff. Seriously
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.NaNoWriMo
Yeah, I'm gonna try this time. I must be crazy... not surprisingly.
| Blog: |
| yoonamania |
Topics: |
| Pets, Dog, Cat |