Hand Over the Chocolate

Back at Christmas I had a party and had a huge pot of chocolate fondue. I put the leftovers into the fridge and promptly forgot about them. The other day I pulled it out and trashed it because there was very little chance that I would ever use it again. After all it's chocolate, not gold.

Whilst getting out of the shower I heard a huge crash, but being that my smelly dog has never gotten into the trash before...I didn't put together what the little piece of crap had done. In no hurry, I got dressed and went down to see what the deal was and I found him basking in the garbage, belly full of chocolate. All I could think of was the veterinarian anti-chocolate propaganda which said my dog was going to die. And soon.

There may have been tears shed, and frantic phone calls to MaurySue, who takes much delight in my new found love-o-dog, but probably not my numerous phone calls in the middle of the nigh. Her dad is a vet, therefore she gets many frantic phone calls. It just makes sense. Like it or not;)

She said that Freddy wouldn't die unless he ate a whole bunch, like 2lbs. This news didn't settle my nerves, because he very well may have. Poor little guy just sat at the back door waiting to go out. I let him out and took him for a walk, but there was no significant bowel business going on. We came back in and he just went straight to the door again.

It was raining and I wanted to go to bed. I literally drug him up the stairs so I could put him in his crate and planned to let the chips fall where they may. Right at the top of the stairs he projectile vomited, took two steps and puked again, walked to the TV in the loft and puked ALL OVER the entertainment center. Seriously, he weighs 22lbs and the piles (because they were piles not spots) of vomit more than exceeded what any reasonable person would expect to come out of one 22lb dog. I couldn't be mad at him because a) I was too busy semi-crying because I thought he was going to die and 2) it was kind of my own fault because he was trying go out.

Bottom line- turns out dogs really do get sick if they eat chocolate....but they would have to eat a TON before it would kill them. The darker it is, the worse it is for them. Go figure. Now ya know.

If you need a steam cleaner you can borrow mine. I have one.

Team Diet.....BUSTED.

Due to vacation plans, I have been flirting with Team Diet. Some days are better than others, but today, Team Diet is not doing so well. Turns out that I was not as committed to the team back when the Girl Scout Cookie order forms were being passed around.
I was delivered a box of every single one of the cookies pictured above. (Except for those nasty cinnamon apple ones. Don't mess up my cookie with your fruit. Sick) I blame the delivery of doom on my friends interminably adorable kids. They are blonde, and cute, and one of them even sounds a little like Minnie Mouse.

How can you say no to that and not have your heart shrink to two sizes two small? It's unfair, really. Guerilla warfare on the swimsuit front. They may as well paint their faces and hide in my bedroom switching all of my clothes for ones that are just a smidge too small. Sneaky little devil's.

Those pesky kids won't get me next year with their pig-tails and bubbly little schpeel. I'm on to their game.

Triumph of Technology Over Reason

You may be wondering what I have been up to betwixt moon journaling and hating going to work every morning. No? Well...let me tell you. I have been outsmarted by modern technology, hung out with Barry and the Fanilow's and been outsmarted by technology some more. Very troublesome times, I must say.


In Review...chronologically.

My new phone finally arrived. I was pretty happy about this. However, I seem to have purchased much more phone than I actually need, want, or have the capability to work. Turns out that all I basically wanted was my old phone, that I know and love. I got this new uber-fancy phone and figured, "How complicated could it be? My kids, who are flirting with being outsmarted by clever barnyard animals, can use these newfandangled phones. They are lucky to still have opposable thumbs. Seriously. I am a well educated woman, I have got to be able to work this P.O.S phone." Nope. No can do.

Valentine's day? I had nothing at all planned. Really. Nothing. But low and behold, a friend called and said that she had planned to take her grandma to a Barry Manilow concert. Grandma decided that she wasn't up for trying to manage the the stairs at the Staples Center, so she wasn't going to go. Bummer for grandma. Awesome for me.

I'm okay with being plan B, sometimes even C. Ask any guy I have ever dated.

Basically, I was excited by this change of plans on a number of fronts. Who doesn't want to take part in viewing the spectacle that is Mr Manilow? Really, I am somewhat amazed by him,musically, artistically, socially, and most importantly by that inhumane look that he now wears on his post surgery face. What is that....lift to the nth degree? How many times is one time too many? We may have missed that discussion.

And second to Neil Diamond, there is nary a singer around who can toss me back more quickly to my 8 year old self, stuck riding to and from my grandparents house in the old red Chevy Nova being jabbed and poked and prodded from both sides by Red-Squared. It wasn't the songs that made this young girl cry.

Anyway- I digress, V-day non date and I were supposed to meet at some Italian restaurant right next to the Staple's Center. Everything was settled. This day, Valentine's or otherwise, was going to be super bien.

Semi-necessary sidebar

I hate getting lost. I pride myself on never getting lost. I am a freaking Magellan. The last of the great navigators, really. I am AMAZING at freeway's but useless in apartment complexes and malls, but that is neither here nor there.

Back to the story at hand.
How hard could finding this place be. It's in the middle of freaking Downtown, and it has a HUGE RED SIGN. Practically visible from space.


Enter the problem
I got a GPS from my parents for Christmas but haven't really had much need for globally positioning myself as of late. Nonetheless, I decided to trot it out and see what happened.

As you more technically savvy readers may well know, the stupid GPS offers you options for the shortest distance, quickest route, avoid certain streets, etc. I chose the quickest route option and hoped for the best. Me and Kenny, we're gamblers. I thought something was a bit suspect when The All Knowing Machine told me to get on the 405.

Little tidbit for you non-LA-dwellers. The 405 goes to West LA. Nowhere near where I wanted to go Downtown. Heaven forbid I disagree with the machine. I just shut off my internal compass and did what Big Brother told me to do. Once I started falling asleep around Venice/Manhattan Beach, I realized that I had been driving for a REALLY LONG TIME, in a REALLY WRONG DIRECTION.

Turns out the damn machine didn't have some double top secret path planned out that would get me to the Staple's Center in record time, which thing kind of broke my heart a little. It was a stupid, stupid machine, hell bent on making me cry on Valentine's Day. I turned off the GPS, cursed the powers that be for getting me lost and I found my way from the south end of Culver City to the Staple's Center on surface streets. Thank you very much!

After the manner of every bad romantic comedy ever made, I called my friend to report my impending tardiness. When I finally got there 45 minutes late, the wait staff were a little surprised that I was a woman, but to their credit, they took the surprise in stride. "Oh my gosh- I am so glad you showed up. I thought she was getting stood up on Valentines Day!" Wouldn't have been so bad if it was just the hostess that commented, but once seated, every single worker that happened to walk past our table said something about my being so late!

Long story...long. I miss this Barry.




He is reminiscent of a much simpler time. A time when the worst part of my day was being squished between my mean ol' red-headed siblings while on the way to grandma's house. There were cookies to be had there, and if a little poking had to be endured in order for me to get them. That was fine. I like that time. It was a happy time. I miss that time. And I miss Mandy, in a totally hetero way.

Let's Hear it for the Hippies!

I am in the middle of a Masters Program in English Education. ENGLISH Education. Fairly subject specific. Think literature, research, writing, methodology, etc. This semester one of my classes is Research Methods in English Education.

Rest assured that I am absolutely tickled with the thought of this class. Giddy with anticipation, actually. Even better, one of our semester long assignments is to observe the moon and keep a moon journal. Seriously. I wish I was kidding. We have been given explicit instructions to NOT look things up online about the moon. We are just to observe and then discuss with our group each week. I'm not positive, but I fear that at some point this assignment will involve singing and group hugs.

Pretty sure my moon journal is going to look a lot like this.

Monday- Clouds, no moon visible
Tuesday- Raining, no moon visible but I am soaking wet.
Wednesday- More rain, no moon visible and I now have a runny nose.
Thursday- I may have pneumonia and went to bed at approx 7pm. Doctors note to follow.
Friday- I have decided that the moon is much like God. I know that it is there, I don't need to see it. Therefore, I oppose this assignment for religious purposes.

These hippies won't get the best of me....I've got a plan, and by my calculations....it's fool proof.

Maury...this one's for you

Pour One Out For My Homie

My cell phone has died and I am heartbroken. It was not a fancy, super cool phone, but I loved it! It was pretty, not the ugly fire engine red but somewhere between crimson and burgundy.

I have gotten messages from a number of you in the past day or so, but alas, I can not call you back. Tragically, I don't have any phone numbers committed to memory and being that the screen is perma-black....I can't see my phonebook.

Anyhow- it still makes and receives calls, but unless you are at the school, or my house (the only two numbers I remember) I can't call you. Good news- I'm available for an upgrade in August, so there's that.

I just wanted you to know why I am incommunicado. The radio silence is due to nothing but technical difficulties.

It all makes sense now

You May Be a Bit Dependent...

You're more than a little preoccupied with being abandoned. You need a lot of support in your life, at all times. It's difficult for you to survive on your own... And you don't reallly think you ever could*.

What Personality Disorder Are You?

Plus, Marilyn and I are both totally hot. They forgot to mention that.

*I do take issue with that part. I think I probably could survive on my own....I just don't particularly want to.