How many licks does it take

While walking along the shore of the small pond the heavenly nature filled bogs offer us I found myself using a stick to poke along the underwater plant life in order scare up the millions of huge pollywogs that hide amongst the growth, and that got my brain humming...

Side Note: I have never in my life seen pollywogs of this size. They are seriously massive and I thought it was just me, but today it was confirmed by my mother, so now we all know it's true. I might bring along a camera but how does one convince a pollywog to sit still so one can place an object next to it as a size reference just before taking a picture? This could call for a bucket. Or medication. Possibly both? Only time will tell.

Make up. Women wear it in excess. At points it's mask like and I personally think it's creepy. When I have asked these women why so much make up they always say the same thing in the same bitchy tone: You wouldn't understand, you don't need make up. Not only are they blatantly avoiding the question (making the make up more creepy if you ask me) but that statement is not helping me find an answer and simply dooms the next painted lady I come across. So much for taking one for the team. Now I'm not saying they're wrong, I just can't put "need" and "make up" in the same catagory. If the world is coming to an end, think Armageddon, and we are living outside like neanderthals catching our own dinner, I doubt anyone is going to be sweating crows feet. I also don't think prey will run any slower from you if you are wearing the prettiest blush color that not only emphasizes your cheek bones but really brings a healthy glow to your face.

Side Note: Did you know you can starve to death from eating only bunnies? Let that be a warning. It's better to have a well rounded and plentiful diet. Long live fresh vegetables! Oh wait...

I also heard someone mention bat guano (or feces) is used to make many cosmetics. Is this even true? The occasional use of lip gloss and mascara for when I am being treated fancy causes my pause when the google page comes up. I hate stupid gossip about stupid shit that may or may not be true and if it is true was better left unsaid.

People paying for their fetishes to come true. Where does the need derive from? Is it sometimes your shit freaks everyone out so much that you have to cover more ground than it's possible on foot OR are you so gank no one can find it in their freaky deaky open minds to appease this abnormal yearning? While searching CL for a quick money making side jobs I came across an add that I am now obsessing over. Some dude wants to hire chicks to press their shoes against his face while he licks them clean (the shoes that is). There is no sex, clothing permitted and he pays well. $250 for 2 hours. If you let him do this to your bare feet, he'll throw in an extra $100. Now, if you are willing to go as far as reading the script he has so kindly prepared for you, he'll throw in an extra $50. I'm guessing the last thing you want while licking someone's feet is for them to say something you don't want to hear. What a turn off. Otherwise you can opt out of the script (you know, if you feel uncomfortable reading out loud or something) and choose to read your own book silently, surf the web on your lap top, jabber on the phone with friends, or whatever else is possible while someone licks your feet. Beading can be done while someone licks your feet. Just throwing it out there. This dude is paying $400 for someone to read to him while he licks their feet. I can't get my head around this. First off, that's decent money to have your feet licked. Or is it? I'm not in the foot licking business or anything but I'm guessing this isn't some every day paid venture. I am thinking about emailing him with a list of questions. Do I get a picture of him? Can we meet for lunch first just to make sure we get along? We all know there's nothing worse than working with someone you hate. Can I bring back up? You know, just in case he changes his mind about the whole I'll treat you nice, I just need to fill my foot licking tank. I know my feet are a little bigger than he had hoped for (he throws in another $25 for 6.5 or smaller) so how's about the back up has size 6 feet? Can she get $25 too? What if he can look at her tiny bare toes while licking my shoes? Where does that take us? Are peep toes a bonus? If I wore some sexy strappy sandals that just barely covered my feet, would I have to remove them to get the $100? I also can't help but wonder if laughing between lines is an option. Is this a part time position i.e. how often is he looking to have this done? because I have a shit load of free time and a super open mind. I am also killer in regards to reading out loud. I pause to wonder, is it cheating if you get paid to have your feet licked? What if the lickee doesn't get off on being licked by the licker and promises to keep it very professional? Is there some fine (or not so fine line) crossed once you start taking side jobs like this? Just think about the potential! Even if you only had two foot licking sessions a week, we're talking an extra $800. Not so shabby.

If only we were all able to fulfill these secret fantasies from the privacy of our own homes...



Ah blogging. It's like a can for my brain trash.

Not to push the breeding thing on you but

After staring at a bunch of fat pollywogs yesterday afternoon I have yet another episode of "I would be such an awesome mother" running through my head.

Side Note: I am blown away by how many people don't know what a fucking pollywog is. Tadpole? Baby frog? Whatever happened to actually leaving your house (gasp!), going outside (wonder of wonders!) and then walking around (whoa!) and looking at stuff (I'm blind!)? There is a good bit of stuff to check out. I am pretty sure I am not some nature buff. I have met nature buffs. They intimidate me a little with their scientific names of flowers and what have you. So.

Side Note: I am also taken aback by how many mothers would never ever allow little creatures into their home, pollywogs included. Were I to have small children I'm guessing the house would look something like a barn/science lab. Hmm. When I picture it, it's a happy little vision of squirmy goodness but when I logically wring it out, keeping creepy crawlies out of the house might make more sense. I am going to need a section of the garage. There. That's settled.

Side Note: How awesome is the word POLLYWOG? pollywog. PoLLyWoG.

It's one thing to go and net some pollywogs just to watch them grow into frogs when you are 30. It's a whole other deal when you have kids. Totally understandable. Way more fun. Educational on a teaching young life how the world works level. I'm not implying I am worried about what people think of me and my actions. The day I start that will be a very dark day indeed. I am just in the midst of the "kids make everything way more fun" controversy. I am not overlooking the incredibly hard work they entail. I am also not going to go and get knocked up just to wait until they are old enough to watch baby frogs grow. I mean, what would I do with them after the frogs grew up? Try explaining that to a three year old.

Besides, I have a cage full of finches heading my way some time soon. It was supposed to be yesterday but plans have changed. I just hope no one else commits suicide while I am waiting for them. Oooo... I am not building an entirely new dwelling. Instead I am going to revamp the one they have. I like the first one I made, it just needs some tweaking. Like a plexiglas door front. This is going to be as fun as it sounds. I don't know what I am going to do with everyone while I work on their cage, but I bet it's going to be a full out shit show regardless. Whoever gives me the most hassle gets to be the next Malcolm. I don't know if getting more finches is a good idea since the flight is pretty full. I also don't want to chance everyone else picking the new guy to death. Birds are like that you know. I can't wait to clean off the perches, clip their tiny nails and give them more things to shred so they'll stop shredding each other. Tiny little blood thirsty freaks. I love those little guys.

Pollywog.

Nice bog

I have been taking the dogs over to a friends cranberry bogs to run. I accidently deleted the picture of the actual bog, but once that was done I decided I didn't want anyone to see it anyway. I have this secret issue that is more of a problem for everyone but me. Maybe I'll change my mind at some point. I usually do. There is this little pond there that is full of big fat pollywogs and since all I had was my phone camera, it was tough getting a decent picture of them. So I stuck with the dogs.


Waiting patiently for this bog thing to take place...

Erosion at the bogs has been beat by making a wall out of huge cement squares. Jimmy enjoys walking across the top of them and since he's older now, I am impressed with just about anything he does. I remember his youth. He could have jumped to the top of those blocks from a standstill.



Getting dogs to stay still is easy when you have the favorite toy and a pocket full of treats



Tabitha is there to be run into the ground so she does acrobats for me whenever it's possible to get her to do them. A tired dog is a good dog yadda yadda yadda...


Up Up!


That's right bitches! The TB has the chicken!

What state would I be in without all these pretty colors?

I have come to two solid conclusions:

1. I have to find a job before I lose my fucking grip. It isn't even a money issue at this point. It's a schedule issue. Or lack thereof. Whatever, you get it. I just can't decide what I really want. The boarding idea is not feasible at this juncture... The behavior one is. So. I'm starting my mission statement tomorrow. Wish me luck? Ah, wish me something... even if it's a cup of hot coffee that never gets cold or runs out. Whoa. That should be #2.

2. I really get off on the idea of having a purse that matches the matches but don't match leash/collar combo Tab and Jim wear. I get the same fantastic pattern but different colors. I get a super huge kick out of putting his leash on her collar and vice versa. It's the little things. As I am the person who always has collars and leashes no one else has, this could prove tricky. There's no rush on perfection. Besides, it's only in daydream mode right now, providing nothing more than quick little satisfied smiles and the occasional entertained titter.

The Rescue

I stopped by to see my little feathered friends. While I was promising them short nails and a new more accepting home, I noticed Malcolm was missing. Horror. I do believe she is the one who hung herself. It is now a cage full of nothing but Bob's. This is depressing x infinity. Malcolm was the singer of the group. The rest of them do have their cheery beep beeps but it's not the same.

These guys need me. I can't decide if it's okay to pick a day that is warm and just lash them to the top of my Scion?

The plan is in motion...

I can't believe it

So there is only one more practice until the big game that ends the basketball season. Damn. Looks like I am going to have to take my pent up aggression out on someone else's dad. Life is but a twisted bunch of fun, horror and sorrow which throws itself at you with no discernible rhyme or reason.

I forgot! & Ask yourself... Part II

First I would like to talk about pressure. Just to clarify which definition I speak of: The use of persuasion, influence or intimidation to make someone do something. Interesting. I often wonder why people don't have their own blogs if they enjoy seeing themselves on blogs so much? Hmm. Make no mistake about it:

MM#1!

Mostly because of my blog though. Wouldn't you agree? Hm? Hm? Wouldn't you though? Yeah... I thought so. Recognize!

and now...

Ask yourself... Part II

I took my cousins to basketball practice last night. It was so funny & fulfilling I do believe I will be the one to bring them from here on out. Let me explain...

Remember my issue with crotchety old men? Me too! I sat on the bleachers to the side and one step down to my right was this older gentleman, nothing special until he opened his mouth. That's when the magic began. He was Richie's dad. He made that known by continuing to loudly criticize Richie any time he did anything child like (Richie is 10), or any time he did anything that dad thought worth a hurtful comment. Let me give you an example: "Richie get out of the way! Richie get it together! Run Richie! Try Richie! Run some of those pounds off Richie!" I shit you not. The kid was a total wreck, second guessing his every move and you wouldn't mind, but he was one of the better players. Every time he got a basket (there were many), every time he blocked or stole the ball (many times), any time he made a sweet ass play (this kid is good)... nothing. Pops just sat there and said nothing. Not even a smile! At first I was amazed and caught off guard in a I am going to laugh out loud if this continues, which meant I spent a good while staring at him with that wide eyed, half smiling but mouth agape, super surprised look stuck on my face. Almost like I expected the delusion to wear off at some point so I could see the reality of the situation but planned on enjoying the delusion while I had it. Seems a shame to waste surreal moments. This was all real though and then it happened! Must torture old crotchety man syndrome kicked in.

From then on I was TEAM RICHIE! I am considering making a T shirt. Every time he did anything that wasn't stellar I'm yelling out encouraging things: "Close Richie! Don't let it get to you buddy, next time you'll get it! Ooooo... no go kid, no reason to feel bad! Good try Rich! Great shot buddy, work on the aim!" When he made out I was an animal: "YEAH! ALL RIGHT RICHIE!! SWEET PLAY! YOU RULE!" and so forth and so on. Dad started quieting down a bit and his focus turned from Richie a bit towards me. He was beginning to realize he had met his nemesis. Bring it Mr. Bad Attitude, you don't even know the half of it. And he didn't. I started dragging him into it. Huge smile, excited gestures, full eye contact, the works. "Wow, that was a great play Richie just made, don't you think?! He's really good! Whoa! Did you see that?! OMG! Richie is AWESOME!" and so forth and so on...

Next thing you know, Richie falls down hard. Lands on his knee super heavy like and of course since he's still a young pansy boy, starts crying. I do what every normal adult does when they see a child fall down and hurt themselves, make a sad attempt at choking back laughter. Richie's dad actually stays seated and tells Richie to stop it and get up!! I couldn't hold back the laughter at that point, but I made a nice save, and directed it at the jerky father. Well, since it's plain the hurt child cannot get up and everyone is starting to make a fuss, dad realizes he has to get up, if for nothing else to clear his sons body from the way of the other players. So he and the coach lift Richie up and help him gimp over to the bleachers where he is left in his fathers "care". Richie's dad put on a fabulous show while everyone was within ear shot but as soon as they cleared out he was all over Richie. Demanding Richie to figure out if he needed to go to the hospital, telling Richie things like this don't happen when you try. Direct quote: "You don't bounce off the floor all the time if you try. Do you see anyone else bouncing off the floor? No. That's because they're actually trying!". You have to feel for this kid. When he's up in the bell tower loading his gun,I'll know it's not his fault and his psyche is the equivalence to raw hamburger.

Once home and rallying for Richie's cause I found out that I'm not the only one pained over his treatment. I also found out that he's the youngest kid on the team. Everyone else is 12. Ouch. So he's the tallest, heaviest and youngest. Those things by themselves are a recipe for disaster. I now see this crotchety old men agitator as a strength. I am going to use this to Richie's dad's disadvantage. It'll help me get out some pent up aggression and it'll hopefully show Richie's dad he's a fucking douche. Maybe Richie will be empowered. Maybe not. He'll probably just get it double once home since it's clear the worst dad ever takes his small penis I got beat up all the time when I was younger issues out on Richie.

Aaaayaaaa!!!

I hung my bird feeder up off the trusty old birch tree out back. It looks a lot like this one but less I'm so thin and swank and more I'm capable and sturdy. I also didn't pay that much. Crackle glass is nice and all but let's not be ridiculous here. Anyway... I look out back at the feeder every day hoping to see some of the seed is gone. So far it has seemingly (foreshadowing) been stoically ignored by all wildlife. However, every day I look out to see it tipped to the side with the cover half off. Now there was some serious wind in AZ so I know that's not what is doing it. Besides, if it were that windy, the feeder would have hit the tree and shattered by now. In so many words, I haven't for the life of me been able to figure this out.

This morning I am drinking my coffee, replying to some come groom for us emails, when I notice movement by the feeder. I keep watching and here comes this little squirrel. Now I know there are all these people who are totally opposed to squirrels because they eat all the seeds, scare all the birds and just generally make a mess out of what would be a very rewarding and peaceful hobby. Honestly. If you are going to be arrogant enough to think you should be able to pick and choose which wildlife you get to observe, you should stop feeding wildlife, because you clearly can't handle nature. Fucking control freaks.

Anyhoo... there's Mr. Squirrel checking out the feeder from the side of the tree. Since the successfully climb down the chain and over the top of the feeder option has obviously been exhausted he did the next best thing. He leapt off the tree side and did this crazy Matrix flying karate kick toward the feeder. The end result was him spring-boarding off of the feeder, making the top fly up and seed burst forth like confetti. It was nothing short of awesome. That's problem solving skills. Joke's on him though. I am about to head out and pick up the yard a bit. I will bring with me something to put through the chain directly above the top of the feeder. Let's see if the little fuckers can figure that out. I'm not opposed to squirrels. If I found one that needed assistance, I would gladly offer some up. I just like to see what their tiny (though brilliant) brains are capable of. Let the games begin!

Ask yourself...

What is this obsession of mine with torturing innocent people for no reason, other than to feel the warm comfort sadistic behavior offers me?

Take the example of old crotchety men. As soon as I see a quiet old man with a bad attitude, I become this SUPER cheery, outgoing, talkative, I need to be engaged with you at all costs type of person. The more they try to get rid of me, the more I am saying things like: You seem health conscious (they don't have to look even slightly healthy mind you). Do you work out? I do. I do Pilates. You know, the work out with the ball? Yeah that. Have you ever tried that? NO? Wow. You should. Check out how great it going for me... this is the point where I start flexing my arm like I'm Arnold and telling him to "go ahead and check out this girls guns!". I will go to extreme lengths to find an area where we "relate". Heaven forbid they end up behind me in a long line...

Then there are the customer service people that are assisting me while I play the song Taking Care of Business (Bachman-Turner Overdrive) a little to loud on a repeating loop. Do they even notice? One can really only hope.

When children are throwing a fit over getting something, I am inclined to make a compassionate face at the child and then say something to the mother like, "Oh, poor thing. Why not just let him have it?" and then continue on my way.

These are examples of my self imposed worldly undertakings. There are many more and as much as I would love to get into them, I am only blogging right now so as to empty my mind of one more question, and of course, to procrastinate. Mission accomplished. Ciao.