12.02.2003 - 4:08 p.m.
Dog is doing this relatively
new thing we call "Chewbacca". It happens when she's
really excited about something - like when we come home or when
we let her back in from the back yard - and she has her stuffed
armadillo wedged in her mouth and she makes these big loud moans
of happiness while you're petting her.
Me: (scratching Dog's back):
"How YOU doin', Dog? How's my dawwg?"
Dog: "OOOOOOOONGH. OOOOOOOOOOOOONNNGH. OOOOOOOOOOOAANGH."
Me: "JB! Dog's totally gone all Chewbacca in here."
JB: "What's up Chewbacca? How's Chewbacca doing?"
Our Dog-related colloquialisms
include Mrs. President, Crab Dog, Pig Sounds, Dangit, and now
Just, you know, in case you
were keeping track of these types of things.
That giant sucking sound you
hear from the Great Northwest? That would be my job, lately.
It has been sucking AND blowing. It sucks balls and it
The thing that's bothering
me the most is the actual physical side effects of going through
a lot of stress. I mean, I'd love to wither away charmingly,
bemoaning my fragile mental state until I fit into a pair of
size six jeans, but that doesn't appear to be my style. No, instead
I get mega horking zits in weird places on my face. I steer clear
of the obvious benefits of going to the gym and I eat too much.
Also, I get nagging headaches
that last all day long. My back hurts from the tension in my
body. It sucks. Oh, and it blows, too. (Goats.)
The last couple of days I've
been worried about JB, too. He went to the doctor yesterday for
what I thought was going to be a minor thing and it's turned
into a trip to the MRI coupled with all these tests and it's
Oh, another side effect? I
cannot seem to get a handle on my emotions. I feel like a cup
filled to the brim with liquid, threatening to spill at every
opportunity. Here are some situations in which I have burst into
- In my office in front of
my boss (Yeah. I know. Nice one.)
- In the soup aisle of the grocery store, for no reason whatsoever
- In the car every damn time I hear that new Evanescence song,
which I don't even LIKE for god's sake
What I need is a glass of wine, a long soak in the tub, and maybe
a vigorous session of Chewbacca. Lucky for me, I think I can
get all three tonight.
See, it's not that bad.
Lest you grow concerned I am
spending all of my time crumpled in a ball whimpering, I did
purchase a Squirrel Log this weekend and am enjoying it immensely.
A Squirrel Log, if for SOME
reason you don't know already (doy), is a pressed cylinder
of this corn derivative that squirrels like to chomp into. "Don't
FIGHT them," the packaging read, "FEED them!".
I thought that sounded like a fine idea.
Now I can look out the window
into the backyard and typically see two or three squirrels going
bonkers over their Squirrel Log. Plus, Dog gets the added benefit
of going batshit when she sees them. Everybody wins with the
It's lo-og, lo-og,
It's better than bad, it's good!
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004