Friday, April 30, 2010

Light bulb moments...

I have recently started using my iPhone to listen to music in my car. For some reason it never occured to me until recently to plug it in and listen to my iPod or Pandora radio. DUH!

Anyway, I was on my way home from work today, listening to Pandora radio, when I reach over to my purse to grab my phone. I realize that it is not in the pouch that I always keep it in so I begin to dig. Now, my purse has a bad habit of eating things so I dig for a good long time while waiting at a red light. When I still can't find my phone I concede that I have probably forgot it at work. Just as I am about to turn around the light bulb in my tiny little brain went off goes off. "YOUR PHONE IS IN OUR LAP DUMB ASS, YOU KNOW, THE THING THAT IS MAKING THE MUSIC!"

This is almost as bad as the time I put water in the microwave to boil and then, when I opened the microwave to take it out, the cup was empty. I honestly thought there must have been a slow leak in the cup, or maybe all the water evaporated. I felt around the microwave for water but not a drop could be found. Oh yeah, I didn't put any water in the cup.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Feels like forever...

Today is the 3 year anniversary of Ryan and my first date; the date I insist was never a date. Let me explain…

Around February of 2007, tickets for Morrissey were going on sale. I was living in Salinas, having just moved back from Los Angeles and some friends of mine in Fresno all wanted to go. One of my friends was supposed to purchase tickets for her and her boyfriend and one for me. Having not heard from her in a few weeks I assumed that everything was a go and my ticket would be waiting for me.

Flash forward a few more weeks and I get a phone call from SBI. I assume it is Heather, but to my surprise it is Ryan. I immediately get nervous because I have no idea why he is calling me and I do NOT do well when I am caught off guard. I always knew he would be attending the show with us, but I had no idea it was going to be just us and one other couple.

He explained to me that Heather NEVER bought a ticket for me or herself, but that he had an “extra” ticket he would be willing to give me. I figured no big deal and told him I would go with him, still not thinking anything of the situation. Apparently there was a lot of thinking going on on the other end of the line.

Now, everyone keeps asking me who I am going to the show with and when I tell them Ryan they all assume it is a date. I am quick to correct them and explain how I was planning on going but tickets got messed up so we were just going together essentially to car pool. The response of people was about 50/50 some who thought it was for sure a date and others who agree with me.

On the day of the show I am getting ready and everyone around is telling me that because I am getting all dressed up it MUST be a date. NO, I am going to see Morrissey for god’s sake. YOU GET DRESSED UP FOR MORRISSEY or he cries and walks off stage. Anyway, Ryan arrives and we head out to Stockton to meet up with mutual friends and go to the show.

The conversation on the way there was great, like talking to an old friend. I had known Ryan for a few years, but never once had a one on one conversation with him. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the company, but I was still very much of the mindset that this WAS NOT A DATE.

We met up with our friends, had dinner, went to the show where Moz walked off stage early because people suck at life and then walked to the car go head home. I had driven there (my car) and when Ryan offered to drive home I was pumped. I hate driving and always jump at the opportunity for someone else to drive.

We make it to Chowchilla and my car needs gas. Ryan pulls over and insists on pumping the gas for me. “Well that is nice of him,” I think, as I reach for my credit card. What happened next was so traumatic that is changed the entire course of the evening in one sentence. “Oh, don’t worry about it; I’ll get your gas.”

Most girls would be excited or grateful, but me, TERRIFIED. Why was he buying my gas? Oh my god, he bought my dinner too! HOLY SHIT MAYBE THIS IS A DATE! Immediately I felt like I was going to shit my pants and vomit all at the same time. Somehow I held it together and managed just a mild deer in the headlights expression.

How could I have not seen it? Everyone else seemed to notice that the turn of events screamed DATE but not me, no, never saw it coming. Now what was I going to do? I couldn’t wipe the traumatized look off my face, I have never been a good liar…I think I am going to DIE.

After the tank is full Ryan got back into the car and I’m sure he could tell there had been a drastic mood shift. We went from talking almost non stop to SILENCE. I imagine he was like um, was it something I said? What is wrong with this chick? Maybe I should tell her this isn’t a date and save myself from this weirdo.

How did I break the silence you may ask? I inquired how much I owed him for the Moz ticket. I thought this was simply me being polite. I would never assume that he would buy a ticket for me. Apparently this was dagger through the heart number one for Ryan.

When we were about a mile away from my house the overwhelming urge to vomit started up again and all I could think about was how I was going to get out of the car and run inside without him noticing. Unfortunately my invisibility cape was at the cleaners and I was fresh out of creative ideas for a disappearing act. I would have to face this like a grown up, I HATE being a grown up.

We pulled up to my house and I jumped out of the car, trying to act cool and collected all the while holding back nervous diarrhea. I am pretty sure I offered to pay for the ticket once more just to drive home that this WASN’T date and then there we were, standing next to each other in the middle of the street.

I was completely paralyzed. I couldn’t let him walk me to the door, what if he tried to kiss me. What if I threw up in his mouth? So there I stood, trying desperately to come up with an excuse. “You don’t need to walk me to the door, I’m sure your knees are sore from driving all that way.” Dagger number two.
Perfect excuse, I think and with a quick side hug and I am headed for the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, I am moving back soon.” Dagger number three, straight through the heart.

Later I had to hear everyone tell me what a cold hearted bitch I was for running away and not knowing it was a date. In my defense, well I have no defense; I’M CRAZY, GIVE ME A BREAK!

You’ll be glad to know that it only took 3 months for the urge to vomit to go away. And now, 3 years later I couldn’t be happier about our “date.”

Love you babe!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Jowl Sandwich

I just want to chop them up, spread them on a Ritz cracker and eat them!

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Sharing is caring

Our dogs, like "real" children, have a bit of sibling rivalry. If one is getting attention, the other one immediately needs attention. If you give one dog a treat you had better have two, etc. Their latest, and most entertaining game is something I like to call bone swapping.

There will be a bone just laying on the floor for hours and one of them will decide to go chew it. Of course the second one chews it the other one wants it. You can offer a different bone or perhaps a nice squeaky toy to the other but they only want THAT bone. I could even offer to let Abner rip the stuffing out of a toy and he would still want THAT bone because suddenly that is the most amazing bone that ever was and no other bone will do.

It is really funny to watch because Abner will lay directly in front of Lilly and watch her chew until finally she gives in and lets the bone fall between her feet. Then Abner will S L O W L Y, as not to disturb the lion, sneak the bone from between her legs and start chewing it. Now it is Lilly's turn to watch until Abner bores of chewing and swaps it back to her.

Yep, that is how we spend our evenings, watching our dogs chew bones. It doesn't get any more exciting than this, internet.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Every year around this time, a shepherd runs his flock of sheep directly behind my parent’s house. You can look outside on any given day and see thousands of sheep just walking around. It is kind of neat to see the dogs working them and the flock roaming; in fact, I might even enjoy it, if I didn’t hate sheep.

They have got to be the most idiotic, worthless animal on earth. Can anyone tell me their purpose? Anyone? I didn’t think so. Anyway, these grass maggots roam around and occasionally one gets the brilliant idea to jump over my parent’s fence and then panic because it can’t get back to its flock.

A few years ago one of these geniuses’ jumped the fence and while we were enjoying our morning coffee we got a phone call. It was our neighbor asking if we knew that there was an injured sheep on our front porch. Oh, yeah, of course we knew. We were just letting him hang out and bleed all over our porch while we finished breakfast.

Sure enough, we looked out the sidelight and there it was; a sheep, seemingly attacked by a coyote, bleeding on our porch. Now I may not like sheep, but I am a lover of all animals and felt bad for the poor thing.

We didn’t know what to do with it so we thought we’d start with a call to the SPCA. Turns out the SPCA doesn’t deal with farm animals and could offer us no help. “Call the county Sherriff,” they told us and so we did.

The Sherriff’s solution you ask. Shoot it! I am NOT kidding when I tell you this. He literally told us that the only thing he could do is come out to our house and SHOOT THE SHEEP ON OUR PORCH. I’m like what the hell are you doing to do AFTER you shoot it. THAT he couldn’t help us with, just the shooting of the sheep and the leaving of its carcass on our front porch that the SPCA would not be willing to come pick up. Um, I think I’m going to have to call you back.

It was looking like our only option was to catch the sheep and lead it back to the flock. Luckily I had a rope and knew how to use it. With the help of my mother and brother, we cornered the sheep and I lassoed it. First try I might add. I knew all that practicing roping fence posts to impress my high school fling would pay off one day.

With the sheep caught, my mom got the idea to hop the fence herself and track down the shepherd. I’m like um, mom, MILES of hills and you think you are going to find him? Yep, she sure did and off she went leaving my brother and I holding the stomping sheep. Yes, by this time it was stomping; stomping and bleeding.

Thinking back to my days in FFA, I was able to hold the sheep’s head up so it didn’t try to run away and drag us down the stairs while waiting for my mothers return. Sure enough, about 20 minutes later she returned WITH THE SHEPHERD. I was like holy shit how did you find him?

He took one look at the sheep and simply said, “Coyote.” He then proceeded to grab the sheep and start dragging it toward the fence! I was like whoa buddy, slow down, the poor guy’s leg has a giant hole in it!

When we arrived at the fence line it became evident that we needed some help heaving the large, bleeding and still stomping sheep over. My mom and I looked at each other and were like, “Nic will help!” I went inside and got the recently showered Nic who reluctantly helped and would now clearly need another shower.

Well, that was fun, when can we do it again? Next year perhaps? Sure enough, the next year we gaze out the window and a giant ram is trotting around our yard; at least all his legs were intact and it was just his brain that was missing.

I am not including pictures of the injured sheep for obvious reasons, but here are a few shots taken right behind the house of the heard.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Antsy Pants

I do not sit still well, never have, never will. I can’t sit through a movie without shifting positions 30 times or shaking my leg so much that Ryan wants to shoot me just to save himself.

I can’t fall asleep without moving around for an hour because maybe if I just move my middle toe one centimeter to the left I will be more comfortable. Can’t stay in bed and relax because I notice dust on the nightstand and that dust could kill us all if I don’t get up and clean it RIGHT NOW.

My inability to do nothing also makes me a really annoying sick person to everyone but myself. I see nothing wrong with doing everything I would do healthy, sick. I take breaks and sit down when I feel like I’m going to pass out and then complain that I don’t feel good but won’t rest. You know fun stuff like that. I basically do the opposite of what I request of others when they are sick.

I can’t tell you how many times I have heard, “just sit down and relax. Rest!” How am I supposed to relax when there is a pile of dirty towels to be washed and bed sheets to be changed? I can only relax when my own brain allows it, not when I am told to.

This is when I have to go deep and think like a grown up married person, not like an anxiety ridden teenager and LISTEN. This is the advice I give Ryan or my mom or anyone else if they are sick, yet I refuse to take it myself. It is so silly but so hard to break myself of it.

Today I stayed home from work sick and Ryan insisted that I rest. Five minutes later he left to take the dogs to the beach and five minutes and thirty seconds later I got up and changed the sheets, THEN I rested. Baby steps people, baby steps.

Sunday, April 18, 2010


For no real reason, Ryan and I typically eat dinner at the coffee table rather than the dining room table. It just so happens that the table is chin height for Abner, who likes to rest his head with hopeful eyes, and wait...

Saturday, April 17, 2010

I'm going to snap...

You all know how much I love repetitive noises such as pen clicking, toe tapping and gum popping, right? In case you don't; I love them almost as much as I love to have a paper cut in between my fingers or perhaps a cavity filled without the use of Novocain. It is the kind of torture I would tell all my secrets to avoid. I would eat mushrooms to avoid these noises!

Anyway, Last night we were watching the PATHETIC Giants vs. Dodgers game and Ryan starts tapping his foot to the "baseball chant" on the coffee table as I am trying to check my email.

I let it go for a while thinking he might stop on his own accord; he didn't. I then let it go for a while longer thinking that I am bitchy and should just get over it. Then, when smoke started coming out of my ears and I began plotting his death, I decided to speak up.

Me: Could you please stop

Him: I am enjoying the game

Me: Can you enjoy the game without the foot tap?

A few moments later the tapping begins again. There are no words, only a dirty look over my shoulder.

Him: What? You can't ridicule me for enjoying the game. I can't help it. I have rhythm!

Me: YOU HAVE RHYTHM? That is your excuse, rhythm?

A few moments pass and AGAIN WITH THE FOOT TAPPING

Me: Now you are just doing that on purpose!

Him: I am not. I AM ENJOYING THE GAME. Maybe you should bring the computer into the office where I can't bother you.

Me: Nah, then I'd have to get up and I'd be lonely in there with nobody to "ridicule."

Him: *sigh

Me: *sigh

A few moments later and THE FUCKING FOOT TAPPING.

Oh how I love him, I really do

Friday, April 16, 2010

Of all the places...

Why are my animals so ornery? Why would she EVER, even for one second think it is OK to sleep on the dining room table?

Oh well, she is a cat and she does what she wants and I guess we'll keep her.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Sinking Ship...

Good thing Abner has a giant life saver.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


In our house Lilly has a chair, a section of the sofa and two dog beds to sleep on but it is one club chair in particular that she favors. I have no idea how she decided this chair was hers, but we don’t often argue.

I don’t even bother sitting in that chair anymore because it never fails that when I sit down, she wants to lie down. She will sit right next to the chair and whine and STARE and whine some more. I, of course, give in and get up reinforcing the fact that that is HER chair.

Well, her majesty has become quite comfortable with her territory and does not take well to common townspeople invading it. Last night Abner had the audacity to fall asleep in Lilly’s chair and the scenario played out something like this.

Abner sleeping peacefully in chair. Lilly comes in and notices her seat is taken. She proceeds to stare at Ryan and I like, what is going on? Why is he in my chair? Aren’t you going to remove him? He is getting his dog germs ALL OVER IT!

She then moves in close and stares at Abner. He cracks open one eye and completely ignores her. Offended, she looks back to us to do something and when we don’t, she takes matters into her own hands and slowly climbs into the chair.

Now, the chair isn’t even technically big enough for her, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She climbed up, SAT ON HIM and squeezed him out. Abner was stuck, forced to wriggle his way out. We couldn’t even help him we were laughing so hard. She really is unbelievable.

Sunday, April 11, 2010


It's not easy being married to me. I can be bossy, bitchy, crazy and a bit of a neat freak, I also occasionally drink too much wine, but the worst hair.

It is everywhere. EVERYWHERE. My hair is in the bed, all over the floors, stuck within t-shirt fabric, tickling all day. My hair gets ingested by our dogs leaving dangling pieces of poo from their bums; my hair ends up in food, falls in Ryan's face when we make out, and goes down the shower drain.

As hard as I try to collect all my hair from the shower, inevitably some goes down the drain each day. I just had no idea HOW MUCH.

Thursday morning I noticed the shower was draining slowly and on Friday Ryan attempted to clear the drain. He started inside with a coat hanger down the pipe but wasn’t able to get to it. He then moved to the basement where I heard him moan with disgust that, "this is going to be disgusting!"

He came up for rubber gloves, a bucket and a flashlight. This I had to see.

About 20 minutes and a section of pipe removed later, we found the clog. I swear someone shoved a rat down our drain and it sat there rotting for months among our dead skin cells and soap scum, but Ryan assures me it is my hair.

So now I am left with two choices; get a drain net for the shower or shave my head. After you look at this picture you may lean toward the latter. I know I am.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Put a knife in my heart...

it would hurt less!

This afternoon I performed one of my least favorite tasks; trimming the dogs toenails. We don't have to do it all that often because they are so active, but Abner still has his duclaws and Lilly has a few random toenails that tend to go a little wild.

Lilly, amazingly enough is the easy one so I finished her nails quickly and moved on to Abner. He is not so easy. This is another case when I call bull shit on all the dog books I read in preparation for my puppy.

Everything I read said if you start them early they will get used to it and hold still and not be stressed out...LIES. ALL OF IT

I trimmed his flippin' nails every week when he was a baby and he STILL hates it.

Here is a shot of the pathetic guy and his purple bandage. I hope he NEVER has a "real" injury that requires bandaging because he would not stop licking this tiny one. So annoying! I do have one of those cone head things just sitting in the closet...hummm

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Hippity Hop

I hope everyone had a great Easter; we sure did. We carried on our tradition of dying eggs, and this year we also hid them and did an early morning egg hunt. The Easter bunny even brought us baskets filled with special beers for Ryan and candy and Champagne for me.

In case you are wondering, the answer is yes. I do realize how incredibly dorky we are and no, we will not stop acting like 5 year old kids or stop treating our dogs like they are our children or doing said activities as though we do in fact have children to participate.

Don't you know things like egg hunts are much more fun when you don't have children involved? Then you don't have to pretend to not see eggs and let little kids find them. You can dominate because you are an adult and have logical thinking and problem solving skills to find that Easter egg that is hidden JUST OUT OF SIGHT. OH MY GOD WHY CAN'T YOU SEE IT. IT IS RIGHT THERE. IF IT WERE A SNAKE IT WOULD HAVE BITTEN YOU. ARE YOU BLIND? HOLY SHIT LITTLE KID. LOOK!!

Anyway, we spent the rest of the day with Ryan's family, six puppies and multiple kids (the goat variety, not human). It was a wonderful time with great food, lots of laughs, caterpillar races, new faces (I FINALLY got to meet my nieces Aubree and Adelyn)and of course, THOSE PUPPIES. I tried to fit them in my pockets, but Ryan patted me down before we left.

There are some pictures of our egg dying etc. As you can see, Abner wants to be a real boy, but alas, no thumbs and definitely NOT tall enough to reach when seated at the table. Maybe next year buddy.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Like the wind

Our dogs LOVE the beach! What's not to love about the beach if you're a dog? I mean where else is there at least a 75% chance you will get to roll in something dead before your mother catches up SCREAMING bloody murder!

Breakfast conversation

Ryan: Are you going to put yogurt on that fruit and eat it?

Me: Why, will that gross you out?

Ryan (with a DISGUSTED look on his face): Yes

Me: Then YES

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Laid out!

Anyone else notice how dirty my floors look in this picture? I can never win, EVER!

Photo credit: Ryan

Friday, April 2, 2010

I scream, you scream

You know how when you first start dating someone you tend to keep your love for certain things a secret; at least for a little while. Things like drinking milk right out of the carton, walking around naked or in my case, the ability to polish off an entire pint of ice cream; alone, in front of the TV, with only a spoon.

Ryan knew going into this that I was a lover if ice cream. In fact, one of our first dates was going to Baskin n Robbins where I ordered a double scoop. Might as well break him in early right? To be honest, I did consider for a moment ordering only one scoop, but the reality is I NEVER order only one scoop. Who was I kidding?

From that day on we frequently walked to get ice cream, drove to get ice cream and made special stops at the grocery store to, you guessed, get ice cream. To me this ice cream eating was perfectly normal, but to Ryan, not so much.

I remember one day him telling me that in the past 3 months he had eaten more ice cream than he had in YEARS. YEARS PEOPLE. He then informed me that he rarely if ever even had ice cream in the house. I almost passed out but held it together; after all, I was falling in love and even better, I knew he would never steal my ice cream!

Flash forward a few months and I started to spend some more time at Ryan’s house so, to be nice, he kept a few things I liked in the fridge, one of them being ice cream. I would have a little bit every once and a while, but I wasn’t there enough to hit the cardboard on the bottom. A while later, while scanning the fridge for a snack I noticed the same pint of ice cream, untouched from the last time I dug in.

Later still and that same pint of ice cream was still just sitting there! I had probably polished of 5 pints since… I’m talking MONTHS that sad little pint of ice cream sat there. I used to open the carton and check to see if he had eaten any but no. Just that poor rejected old ice crystal laden ice cream going to waste. It was official. I would have to support Ben and Jerry alone.

Where the hell am I going with all of this you might ask? I’m getting there. I just needed to give a little back story so when I tell you about Ryan and my argument you will know why I was RIGHT!

A few weeks ago I bought Ryan a scoop of Tax Crunch ice cream from Baskin n Robbins. I know it is one of his favorites and they only have it once a year; and I am just THAT nice. Anyway, that damn scoop of ice cream sat in the freezer day after day, week after week, mocking me. Finally, last night I asked him why he hadn’t eaten it yet.

Him: I forgot about it

Me: Forgot about it, how do you forget about a scoop of ice cream specially purchased for you

Him: I just don’t ever think to eat ice cream

…A tiny piece of my heart broke in a million pieces.

Not five minutes later he emerges from the kitchen with his scoop of Tax Crunch and a question.

Him: Where did that pint of Chubby Hubby I bought go?

Me: Umm, I ate it




Me: OH WAS IT? Are we going to start labeling foods now, because if we are then you better go grocery shopping!

Him: That’s not what I meant. You don’t even like Chubby Hubby.

Me: EXCUSE ME. I believe I was the one who introduced you to the flavor and I DO like it. It’s ice cream dude, I LOVE IT

Him: Fine, but you didn’t save me any

Me: Wow, want me to go get you some now because guess what buddy we are in America and we have grocery stores and I can get you another flippin’ pint of ice cream!

Him: I don’t want it, but what if I did and it wasn’t in there?

Me: Then you could drive your ass to the store and buy some more!

He then proceeded to eat almost the entire scoop of Tax Crunch WITHOUT GIVING ME A BITE. Don’t worry, he came to his senses and shared. See, that is what marriage is all about, sharing.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Downward Dog

"Yoga Dog," one of Lilly's best tricks. I tried for 10 minutes to get her to do it on the yoga mat but there was no way in hell she was stepping on that dog eating blue torture device that I am sure was burning hot and covered in tacks!