sonmi sweet

dog blog plus tangents

to train or not to train? that is the question i pose in the wee hours of the morning, when the peace and quiet envelops me like a lover. i speak not of chitty-chitty or the midnight express but that costly, annoying discipline we humans created when we domesticated the purest form of nature, those meat eating, prowling, hunting, four-legged canines who could never fathom the uncontrollable need to drive through starfux and fork out $4.99 for their daily fix of half-caf light extra foam latte get-me-through another-day-of-my-asinine-job. while they, our barely evoluted wolf pets stay home alone and do their best to self-entertain. a certain sister of mine recently confessed that upon her arrival home from work, her cute and co-dependent doggie ran happily to greet her with a strange, vibrating item in his mouth. upon further investigation she found a telltale trail of pink plastic chunks leading to her bedroom and under her bed where she did the math and came up with the equation equalling the demise of a certain, expensive and quite effective marital aid known by any woman who's seen sex and the city as "the bunny." leave it to (beaver?) fate/the obvious/ that the bunny done died.

god i wish she had a nanny cam for that one. her 11 year old nephew could upload it and post it on youtube in 5 minutes and before you know it she'd have thousands of views.

pretty.

but i regress, or tangent, or ramble. so be it. it's late, the roofies are kickin' in (jk)

back to dog training.

it sucks.

our teacher is mean and condescending and oftentimes skeedadles out of the microscopic training area for oh, half the class time to smoke, drink, shoot up or what have you but we, the people do what we can to gossip and let them jump, run, play, hump and basically get their ya-yas out.

but then she returns all fire and brimstone and has the nerve to tell us that "we shouldn't let our dogs play for so long." because obviously that's a bad thing. bad but funny when henry, the long, fat, droopy basset hound throws up a big slimy green pile of puke and miss dog trainer lady insists on investigating its contents.

she allegedly detects shreds of a coloring book and a veritable rainbow of color crayon pieces. dog nazi cindy isn't happy so i do my best to stifle my giggles as i think of the times henry's owner told us of his penchant for pop-tarts that her grandbabies unknowingly hold onto loosely enough for henry to grasp out of their grimy little hands quick as a wink.

oh so much more but god damn it's 5 a.m. and i must be manic as i feel as though i could touch up the sistine chapel, run a marathon, streak through downtown asheville (though i doubt anyone would be awake!)  guess i'll have a talk with my little peach colored friend(s) and let them carry me off to dreamland. hopefully long enough so that i don't look like a hairless, eyes-glued-shut puppy in the morning. 

i really need to teach those boys how to make the perfect cup of coffee.

more on puppy class later.

life is so fucking cool and we should all get down on our knees right now to laugh/pray and give thanks for every breath, every connection we make with another human being (even if they're dressed in dogs' clothing). for music, and warm cherry pie with homemade vanilla ice cream while watching carlos mencia or reno 911.

give thanks y'all. 

life fucking rocks.

nothing else matters

the morning after

bless me father (again). it's been a long-ass time since i've verbally barfed onto my mac.

i would like to take this opportunity to thank the academy, i mean my sister leslie, for the steel-toed boot kick in my bony ass and actually sit it down on the couch and blogify. 

she's been urging me to do so for quite some time but my incredibly thick skull must have parted enough to actually hear her words when she texted me something to the effect of: "you must blog today, you are using really good words." so here you go, baby sis. i hope you're sneaking "on the clock" time to revel in my brilliant verbgiage thus far...classics like long-ass, barf and blogify. 

i'll take the praise and "atta-girl" but in reality i'm doing my best to avoid going out into the terrifying world of consumeristic hell otherwise known as BLACK FRIDAY. that "unofficial holiday" (it ain't on my calender!) that begins precisely at 12:01 a.m. on friday, november 28th. i'm assuming it's only in america as i give our brothers and sisters in other countries more credit. i mean really, is it possible that people who sit in cafe's and drink lattes for half the day while journaling and reading hemmingway with no guilt whatsoever could also condone waking up in the wee hours of the morning, donning a pair of poly-blend bend-over slacks and a neon red christmas sweater, embellished with reindeer, santa claus, gingerbread men and actual blinking lights hopping in the mini-van (love you kel! think carlos mencia) and high-tailing it to the largest mall in order to stand in line for two or three hours only to be nearly (and sometimes actually) trampled to death for the great pleasure of scoring one of only two hundred $79 DVD players or one of the last two Wii's left in the entire galaxy.

well golly that sure sounds fun, don't it?

but alas, i'm judging, aren't i? hell yes i am.

let them eat cake or cinnabons till their heads explode. i truly hope they enjoy themselves and live to tell their great grandchildren of their heroic quests.

me? i'm being pulled by the forces of 3 hormonally challenged testosterone maniacs (weird 'cuz you'd think it'd be the girls who gave a flying frick) to "go check it out."

and in all fairness, testostee #1 is home from his prep school and has seemed to have grown at least 3 inches causing his pants to look like he's waiting for the levy to break. and we can't have that now, can we?

plus, it might be funny. i know that's highly optimistic of me but a pre-mall margarita may help calm the social anxiety some. 

i'll look on it as research for part 2...

gonna getcha