My blog has been fucking boring since I got a puppy.
I have been boring since I’ve gotten a puppy. I swear my existence is all about keeping the world’s most well-hydrated puppy from peeing all over my house. And then there’s Scheissehund who sometimes gets away without wearing a diaper because I’m distracted and …
My house is awash with dog pee.
Once Chief gets potty trained I’m going to rent a Rug Doctor and steam clean my entire house. As I write this I smell poop. I can’t see it but I can smell it. Maybe there is a sneaky poop in my room. Maybe he’s farting in bed. Either option sucks
In the last week he’s defeated the baby gates and has figured out the stairs. Apparently he’s been in my room unsupervised. But maybe it was Scheissehund, or one of the pissed off cats. So many potential perps.
I went to an event at Studio Arts Boulder (where I do my pottery) and caught up with people I haven’t seen in a few months. I’m not in classes now because what’s the point? My favorite thing to do is lose myself in making shit while either talking to friends in class or binging on a show at home. I love the way time just slips away when nothing pulls me away from my work/play.
I can’t see myself truly enjoying my work if I have to stop every 20 minutes to drag Chief outside to go potty.
But see? I’m all puppy this, potty that … I’m almost as boring as a new parent.
I feel like I can say that because I’ve had kids and I’m not following the “boring parent” thing with something shitty like, “And that’s why I don’t want kids,” as if anyone really gives a crap about the reasoning behind anyone else’s reproductive choices. Especially when it’s all sanctimonious.
While I’m complaining about trife shit, why is it cool to go on and on and on about why kids are a terrible idea to a person who has kids? It’s as uncool as people who try to pressure or shame people who don’t want kids into having them. Who the fuck does that? Except parents of adult children who want grandkids?
I would never do that, not to my own kids, not to anyone.
Everyone is annoying me, but this is hilarious.
Also like a new parent I’m opting out of parties and gatherings because I need to hunker down and get this dog trained right. If all goes well and he doesn’t get squished by a car or drops dead of cancer, I might have this dog until I’m 60.
SIXTY!!!! THAT’S A REALLY LONG TIME!
I cannot have a bad dog (like some dogs I know) for that long.
I weighed Chief today and he’s gained two pounds since last week! AS IN a week ago he was seven pounds and now he’s nine pounds! Commence Googling Golden Retriever growth charts.
If he’s 9 pounds, that puts him at 10% below the smallest Goldens which (for males) is 60 pounds which means he would be 54 pounds but I paid a … um … substantial amount of money to get a miniature Golden which should weight between 35-45 pounds.
But then this calculator said he’d be 22 pounds …
In the end I think this quote sums it up best …
I’m positive that Alan Watts was talking about middle aged women worrying about whether they overpaid for a miniature puppy.
Anyway, it would be just my luck to end up with a 135 pound freak of nature.
Look at how much bigger he is than Bart already? FUUUUUCK.
But believe it or not, other things are happening in my life that have nothing to do with dogs. Like these ladies who are staying upstairs.
POLE DANCERS IN THE HOUSE!
And not only are they pole dancers, many are the best kind of pole dancers … Australians!
And a Kiwi. Same thing, right? (Don’t kill me Jacqui)
Better yet, one had a BOIL and it had to be LANCED and she LET ME VIDEO!
This is a long-assed video but I love every second of it. Where is Wu when I need him?
It’s so classic. The multiple cameras, Natasha Wang eating tuna salad and watching like it’s no big deal, me freaking out about my battery life, the commentary … maybe you had to be there. Don’t watch if you are averse to blood. And crotches.
Dude, I have so many people in my house which isn’t that big of a deal but add a puppy and a kitten and a diaper dog to the mix and oy, I feel haggard. I realize that all of my stress results from personal choices that I made despite the wise council of disapproving Loony but that doesn’t mean I can’t complain on my blog.
While the ladies performed surgery on each other I went downstairs to finish dinner and drinks with Loony, Uncle Al and Michael. The house is so packed that Michael is sleeping on the porch. While we were listening to music and drinking bourbon this fella walked up to us …
He just had to tell us how much he loves our house and our vibe and blah blah and can he sit down and maybe finish off that water over there and hey, can I try that bourbon?
He was wasted. In retrospect I don’t think he came over to wax rhapsodic about our bohemian life but to see if he could keep his buzz going.
He outlasted me but I intercepted Loony coming in, very pointedly bringing in the bottle of bourbon that Decker seemed intent on polishing off. In fact, Loony even LOCKED THE DOOR! He was knifed by an intruder and that didn’t inspire him to lock up but threaten his bourbon …
This is all to say that weird and random shit is still happening at my house but I’m just too tired to write about it.