365: Crazy Bug

Carmie is OBSESSED with bugs. She is particularly fond of moths. She runs and jumps through the air trying to catch them and eat them. Since the rain came last week we've had a plethora of moths. Getting her to concentrate on going to the bathroom or eat dinner is nearly impossible. Nerdy girl.

365: Total Loon

No Ange isn't praying or reaching towards the light. She's conducting. Like a choir director. And what is it she's conducting? Alvin & The Chipmunks sing "Christmas Don't Be Late." Love her. She's such a crazbo.

365: Insane Pointillism Car

I stopped by the grocery store on the way home this evening and couldn't help but capture the insane car parked in front on me. I'm all about outrageous and borderline tacky, but even I have my limits. And not only is this insane but who has the time to create such a detailed pointillism design on a beat-up old truck? So weird.

365: Love This Crazbo

I've had a tummy ache all afternoon. We were in desperate need of groceries so we had to go even though I felt like shit on a shoe. My best girl loves to cheer me up when I'm feeling blue. It always works. I love her.

365: Crazy Loon

Most days when I get dressed to go to work I try to be fashionable yet professional with just a little bit of flair.

Some days I wake up and my inner 5 year old wants to dress me. On these days imagine that I'm asking a 5 year old what a "professional business woman" should look like. Sparkles naturally. Whimsy of course. Princess like, yet professional. I whirl out of the closet and Ange looks at me and says "Oh, you're having a crazed loon day." Of course I think I look most fabulous so what does she know?

The funny thing is, on days that my inner 5 year old dresses me, I get about 5 times the amount of compliments on my outfit than I do when I'm dressed "normally." Ange thinks this is because Californians are mostly loons and they are just noticing one of their native species. I happen to think they admire someone who dresses like they WISH they could dress and are just giving me a bravo! with their compliment.

Pet peeve: Bi-polar climate controlling

I was just thinking about this the other day and thought it would be a good post. 

I hate when people act like bi-polar maniacs with climate control. Here's what I mean...

Example 1: It's a very hot day. We've been outside doing outdoorsy things where it is very hot. We come inside. SOMEONE acts like they may die of a heatstroke. SOMEONE turns every fan in the house on FULL BLAST and cranks the air conditioning down to -10. I immediately morph into some kind of X-Men who's only power is to turn into a frozen Popsicle. 20 minutes later SOMEONE says "DANG! It's cold in here." No shit. How about next time you try sitting down quietly for a few minutes and working through the cooling down system your body was so naturally graced with at birth? Stop. Being. A. Spaz.

Example 2 (I hate this one even more): I am another person's car. It's a bit chilly in the car so I either A. request a heat adjustment (if I don't know the person well enough to take matters into my own hands--or can't reach the controls) or B. reach over and adjust the temperature slightly. EMPHASIS ON SLIGHTLY. In situation A, the spaztastic driver turns the dial to the complete other end of the temperature dial & turns the air/heat on FULL BLAST. I mean really? I said I was a little chilly. I did not say hypothermia was setting in and death was imminent. CALM DOWN. Situation B is the worst possible pet peeve of all the scenarios. If I'm feeling a little chilly and I reach over and adjust the temperature gauge a hair, that is not an indication that I need you to reach over and turn it all the way to the opposite end and turn it up full blast. If I was not timid enough to touch your shit, this is not merely a signal that I wish to have my hair blown back by your far superior temperature adjusting skills, but really, a slight shift in temperature was all I desired. Again...Stop. Being. A. Spaz.

 

Please Note: I NEVER look this happy with my hair whipping back and forth.

Moral of the story? Moderation is key. And patience. Eventually the temperature will even out. No need to take drastic measures.

Validation

At home, Ange & I share the household duties. Mainly, she does the major stuff inside the house (sweeping, mopping, etc.) and I do the major stuff outside the house (run errands, most of the shopping, etc. ). Now, I know I am far from normal. And I am under the firm belief that non-normal people tend to attract other non-normal people, and in fact, mostly crazy people and crazy situations to them. I know that when I walk out the door in the morning I will get more than my fair share of crazbos trying to make my life difficult. I accept it and sometimes all I look for from my partner is a little validation. A little "sorry you had to deal with that." Usually I don't get it and instead get a list of reasons why I am probably misinterpreting the situation, overdramatizing the situation, or reasons I should give the person sympathy. Which of course I don't want to hear any of those things.

But times...they are a changin'.

My most epic struggle has been with the maroons who work in the Pharmacy at the Work Release Kroger around the corner from us. We started using this pharmacy because A. it was close to the house, B. we now have several dogs who are permanently or intermittently on drugs in addition to mine, and C. one of Ange's good friends used to work there. When I first started going there, if Ange's good friend wasn't there it always seemed like the most random ridiculousness would transpire. I would try to tell Ange about these situations but she apparently she did not want to believe that everyone besides her friend at that Kroger was a complete idiot. It was always someone else's fault, or a mistake, or I was imagining it...but never that everyone else was a nincompoop. I don't know if she was trying to stay loyal for her friend's sake or if she thought I was being my usual dramatic self, but whatever it was, I was just wrong and over-reacting.

Now here's the most delicious part: now that I am in Africa for 5 months Ange has to do everything herself. All the errands, pill picking up, grocery shopping, etc. All by herself. So now she gets to see the craziness I deal with on a regular basis. After experiencing the idiocy of the Kroger Pharmacy with her own eyes for the eleven-dy-ith time she in fact apologized for ever having doubted me. She realized they were completely incompetent and nuts. She apologized under the agreement that she never have to do "my jobs" again. I said I would be glad to resume interacting with the loonie tunes outside world under the condition that she give ME the benefit of the doubt in the future and realize that people are just plain nuts and love to torture me when all I want to do is run in and out of the store and when I bitch and moan instead of telling me why I might be wrong to say "I totally understand and I'm sorry you have to deal with that." Ladies and gentleman, we had ourselves a deal. Validation has never felt so sweet.

Dog Dossier: Daisy

Aliases: Black & Tan, Baby Dog, Daisy Mae, Daisy Maisy, Maisy, Maisy Mouse, Little Brute, Brat Dog, Crazy Daisy, Naughty Dog, Daze, Mary Jane Rotten Crotch

Back Story: Daisy was the first dog fully owned by me. When I was looking for a house I knew I wanted a house with a yard so I could have a dog. Little did I realize that I would one day end up with 5. After finding the perfect house with a very large fenced in yard I started thinking about a dog. I have a soft-spot for mutts, having grew up with the greatest little mutt that every walked the planet, so I knew that at the very least I needed some kind of rescued dog. I started seeing Miniature Pinschers (also known as Min Pins) everywhere and began to fall in love with them. They were just so cute. At the time I also belonged to Indy Freecycle which is an internet group that strives to recycle things for free to avoid throwing crap into landfills. They used to allow animals though I'm not sure about that now. I had been eyeing the animal posts that came out and one day there was an ad not only for a free Min Pin but it also came with a sad story about how she was at the end of her days at the shelter she was at in Terre Haute and if someone didn't take her ASAP she would be put to sleep. I was sold. The lady had to bring her that day, but I was at work at the time. I told her my (now ex) girlfriend was home and the dog could be dropped off with her. Eagerly anticipating my new dog I waited and waited for Shelly to call with news. When she finally called she said "Uh, the dog's here. But I don't think she's a Min Pin." As soon as I got off work I raced home to check her out. Ok, so maybe she wasn't a full-blooded Min Pin but she was black and tan and awfully cute. I loved her anyway. So the lady said that her name was Winnie which I thought was the dumbest name ever so I decided to re-name her. She was as pretty as a flower so she was then called Daisy. Little did I know that my sweet little flower would turn out to be a royal pain in the ass (but still cute!)

Quickly she realized how to get out of her collar, how to fling herself off the deck and run like a maniac through the neighborhood, and how to squeeze past you and bolt out the door if you weren't watching vigilantly. I quickly realized that she actually liked to be spanked (the harder the better...she's truly into S&M), had some screws loose, would forever have to wear a harness and be chained up when in the backyard even with a 6 foot tall privacy fence, my yard would always look like crap, and the house had to be thoroughly doggie proofed forever or she'd chew me down to the crawl space.

After only a few short months I experienced a sad loss. Daisy bolted out the door and could not be found anywhere. I looked and looked and looked but no Daisy. I hung up signs, I checked the Pound and Humane Society, but no trace. After being sad for a few weeks I tried to move on. Then one day out of the blue, my mom and sister were leaving my house when Daisy bolted in front of their car in the middle of the busy street in front of my house. They screeched on their brakes, looked at each other and said "Wasn't that Daisy?" They opened the door to the car and she jumped right in. They drove back to my house and said "Look what I found!" I was in disbelief! It had been well over a month since she was last seen! Where the heck was she? Apparently she wandered into someone's house and they'd been taking care of her for a month. I saw that she was wearing a new collar and some vet tags. I called the vet, told them the situation and they gave me the number to the people who had been taking care of her. Now the next part might sound mean, but hear me out. It was an older couple she had been living with. The man had Parkinson's and the wife had Alzheimer's. Of course I was like, oh geez. How can I possibly take her away from a little old couple? Well two things made it easier. One, she was mine. Sorry, but it's true. I had posted signs EVERYWHERE...sorry they didn't see them, but whatever. Secondly the vet said that they had experienced the loss of two pets that year. Apparently they had been mauled by the next door neighbor's dogs. If they were incapacitated to the point that they couldn't prevent their dogs from dying then Daisy didn't have much hope. I called them up and we settled the issue.

Now I'd like to say that she's never gotten out since then, but that would be a lie. This is one rascally dog we're talking about. There are some days I wish she would runaway...but not really. She may be one of the naughtiest dogs to ever grace this planet, but truly, she is very sweet, silly and cute and you just can't help falling in love with her. She makes me laugh most of the time and no matter what, she'll always be my first solo "adoption." And come on...she's a good story to tell!

Likes: Rolling around on the floor itching her back, digging up the yard, chewing up things, running away, rolling in smelly things, being spanked, her belly rubbed, wrestling with her sister, being chased, riding in the car, sleeping in bed with mommies

Dislikes: Being told "no, no," being woken up suddenly, being touched by Sam, sharing food, being clean

Chicago: Outakes of Silly Girls

Did I ever mention that one of the things I love best about Ange is that she is a crazy wackadoodle just like me? If not, I'm telling you now. Crazy Crazbo. So of course you can only imagine when the two of us are together what kind of shennanigans we get into. Here are just a few examples from the trip:

Ange was scraping the skyscraper book in the Sears Tower gift shop...

I got attacked by a wild monkey in the Sears Tower...

Ange discovered that Chinese people have small heads while modeling a hat in Chinatown...

I love Wolverine! Here I am doing my best Wolverine impression...


Always time to stop and sniff the flowers...check out the nostril flarage!

I was zooming up the escalator. Look at my wings! So fast!

I wrote earlier on my previous blog (on MySpace) about how Ange is trying to teach herself Braille at work when she's bored. So far she's mastered "Women's Bathroom." Here she is showing off her skills in the Sears Tower:

Um, who doesn't like Jazz Hands at the Sears Tower?

Finally, Chicago isn't called the Windy City for no reason. It was windy as hell on Saturday. Here is Ange posing in the wind:

Ahahaha. We're so silly!