I Still Can't Believe It

if you show me yours Originally uploaded by Corn Dog . Ok Kim , I'll play along. And just for the record, you caught me at a low point of cleaning out my purse. It's been a while, as you might have guessed by the looks of it. Click on the picture to go to Flickr and see the notes explaining what the various shit is.

I just got a text message that read "I just sharted for the first time in my life" Of course, my reply is simple to infer "TMI! I'm eating over here!" The reply to the reply..."Twas a short shart" Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

The only evidence I have is last night's episode of Project Runway (well, that and some of those outfits she wears....the hell?). If you don't watch Project Runway avert your eyes, put your blinders on or whatever you do to ignore the best reality show on the telly. And also? Even if you hate fashion shows or whatever, Heidi Klum is freaking hawt. H-O-Double-T hot I tell you. Sometimes her voice gets this really tinny and annoying sound to it (cue that laugh from one of the commercials for the show, egads), but her accent is awesome and she's just too damn sexy. No one should get to be that sexy. How she doesn't have 823 stalkers, I'll never understand. First, I have to profess my love and devotion to Michael Knight. What David Hasselhoff lacked in style clearly ended up in the genes of his Knight Rider namesake. This guy rocks and I am not surprised in the least that he won two challenges in a row. I think he should have won the first challenge as well - I mean co...

Here's quite possibly my favorite music video of all time:

The scene: Main Street - a tourist haven with some offices mixed in, old-school brick street, gas lamplight, the whole bit. My office is on the second floor and has a balcony overlooking the street. Some coworkers and I go out there to smoke. Act 1: A white car is driving by. The driver is playing with something and as the car passes right in front of us, we see what the driver is playing with. His dick. A dude drove down a busy street in broad daylight spanking his monkey. Act 2: Cue flabbergastation. The first thought is "I did NOT just see that". Second thought is "Did Cute Cousin Coworker see that too?" We look at each other with our mouths agape. Eye-witness status confirmed - I have someone to back up my story. Act 3: Tell the other co-workers. They are aghast, but oddly, not as surprised as I expect. One tells me she saw that a couple of times when she worked a McDonald's drive-thru. As in, people would pull up to the window as they're pul...

Ha! I've outed her. Sunday was not only the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, but was also my BFF's birthday - an equally explosive event, I can tell you that. Proof: And here it was, Anna's birthday and SHE gave ME a gift! She just recently returned from a sojourn to jolly England - London to be exact. And she brought me back something that will change my life: My allegiance is set. Mighty Mighty Liverpool! Now that I have the scarf, will they teach me the naughty chants? Fuck propriety and all that, I want to know the dirty bits.

...you come home with a good buzz and a satiated appetite to discover your air conditioner is seriously on the fritz? So on the fritz, you're afraid it might be ready to "throw a rod" or some other such technical jargon that basically means "you're screwed". ...there's a song on the CD that you love so much, you hardly even hear the songs leading up to it, if you don't skip them in the first place? There's probably some great songs leading up to #4, but I'll never know it because the excitement for #4 is too overpowering to consider waiting another 2.5 minutes to hear it. And if I do listen to it, I'm constantly thinking of #4 anyway and paying zero attention. They could replace their keyboards with a monkey making fart noises and would I notice? Nah, probably not. ...your dog wakes you up at 7 am making the sound that says "I'm puking imminently" and then proceeds to pause and charf at every piece of carpet in the house alo...

In the interest of having the most complete list of my obsessions, I went on a mind quest in the Armenian hillside and pondered my love for all things dorky. To wit: Movies (in no particular order) The Outsiders. I made my brothers watch this movie no less than 100 times in one summer. Stand By Me. Ditto True Romance. I went so far as to have a song from the movie in my wedding. Judge me if you will, but I still like that song. The Princess Bride. Anybody want a peanut? And..... a song from this movie was in my wedding. Amadeus. Strangely, no song from this movie in the wedding. Harry Potter. What can I say? I'd love to be a real witch. Here is where I might put Lord of the Rings. But, I am not putting it on my list because of the agregious offense of the hollywoodization of the story. I tried to convince myself it was ok because it was some sort of artistic license, but it was just too cheesy. I can't overcome the cheesy. Albums (wouldn't dare put these in...

Growing up, I can clearly remember the phrase "The world does NOT revolve around you" being bandied about by my parents. Of course, I also remember hearing "Your butt pumps pond water" but that's beside the point. I've been accused of being selfish and it's only lately when taking stock of my life that I've come to realize that yes, I'm a pretty selfish person. So now what? Is this a shortcoming I should try to resolve? How can I become less selfish? I know! I'll start a blog, name it after my dog and then incessantly talk about myself and my "issues", real or imagined. That should start me on the road to becoming a recovering selfish person, don't you think? Oh. You don't think that'll help too much? Oh well then. Fuck it. Case in point: I've been seeing a lot of these things called "memes" on other blogs I read. I've actually participated in one once . Since then I haven't been invite...

 

I bought a bowling ball. Why? Not because I'm any good at bowling - my average hovers somewhere around 110 if I were to guess. No, the main reason has to do with my laziness. Now that BTW has her own ball, I'm left to my own devices to find a 10 lb. ball - we used to share so only one of us had to navigate through the hordes of tongue-kissing teenagers and wife-beater wearing weirdos. I wonder what the weeknight crowd is like? Maybe more Big Lebowski than "If I have to see that girl's thong one more time I might gouge my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon". One can only hope. 

If you mix Canadian Mist with iced tea, it congeals in the cup. My mom handed me her cup and said "What do you think THAT is?" referring to a couple of brown blobs floating around in it. I poured it out only to see two big ol' gelatinous clumps plop into the lake. They were the consistency of boogers which prompted us to start throwing them at each other and then at the boys on the boat. We might have thrown a blob onto the boat that we were subsequently unable to locate. Should be a good story when someone does find it. My brother's dog of 14 years died. My lasting memory of Jasmine will still always be that mischievous look she'd give you right before she a) ran off; b) pissed/shat on the floor; or c) chased Cassady around the yard pretending she wanted the frisbee but really only wanting to torment - my personal favorite. To some that might sound like I'm only remembering the bad, but it's really more like one of those endearing traits...the look...

Jump! Originally uploaded by Corn Dog . Results are in and 9 out of 10 veterinarians agree Cassady does NOT have the Big C! His lump was an inflammation of tissue basically, so it's very good news for the Beaner Bean. In celebration of the good news, here's a picture of Cassady in his prime doing what he was born to do. Somewhere I have video of this too - will try to find that to post here. And to think, all the jumping and frisbee catching started with a little squeaky Woodstock chew toy I bought in Connecticut. Most people don't understand that the playing of the frisbee is not just one trick. It's actually four tricks in rapid succession: 1) Jumping for the Frisbee 2) Catching the Frisbee in the mouth (extra points if he tips it with his nose/head and then catches it) 3) Bringing it back 4) Dropping it. In my experience with Cassady, no.'s 1 & 2 came pretty naturally to him. Number 3 was a bit trying - what with the constant sniffing of the leaves/trees/but...

...to watch World Cup soccer, I've found it. Or rather, him. But first, congrats to Italy on their win. I started watching the final thinking I wanted France to win entirely because of the nothing short of inspired performance of their marquee player, Zinedane Zidane. For lovers of the letter Z, that's a great name no? So yes, I'm thinking France at first. In the first seven minutes they go up 1-0 on a penalty kick executed expertly by Zidane, so now I start thinking I just want to see a good game. No diving and bullshit yellow cards, maybe a nice draw to go on to penalty kicks, you know - I wanted it to be interesting. And France winning it with a goal in the seventh minute was not going to cut it. So now I'm cheering on Italy. During their game with the US, I didn't pay much attention to how hot the Italian players are. I saw them as dirty diving elbowing assholes mostly. But I did notice there was some potential. I watched the Italy against Germany match and one ...

Can I just tell y'all how lucky I am? I just happen to have the coolest Mom you could ever hope to have. Why is she so cool you ask? Aside from having a damn cool daughter who has taught her a lot about being cool, there are a couple of other things: BFF - My Mom is my No. 1 Best Friend Forever and always has been. Even when I was a whiny, selfish little brat teenager, she managed to relate to me on a level I could respect. Looking back I appreciate how bloody hard that must have been. In her shoes, I think I would have smacked me back then on a daily basis. And now that I'm older and quite obviously her mental superior, she still manages to engage me in conversation that doesn't bore me too badly. (Can you tell I'm going to be sending her the link to this post?) Encouragement - When I was like 8, I used to say that I didn't want to go to college because I never wanted to leave my parents. My mom gently encouraged me to think about it closer to that time and not be ...

I scored two goals in last night's soccer game! I totally rock. Just try and tell me I don't. I read today that only 6% of Americans are tuning into the World Cup. That's pathetic! I'm sitting here wondering what to do until Saturday when there's another match - I have absolutely loved watching the games. Those guys make it look so easy and have sick skills. I contribute my recent goal-scoring prowess to watching the games, but it's probably because the goalie had an eye patch and a third leg. I just don't get where soccer is losing mass appeal here. Growing up, at least in this corner of the midwest, almost every grade schooler plays soccer at some point. I mean, they have to or the "Soccer Mom" breed would die out, right? And god knows there's a truckload of soccer mom's piloting their mini-vans to practices and games at all hours. You can spot them with a keen eye - they're the ones with the subtle giant soccer ball sticker...

The most dreaded time in any pet owner's life is upon us. Cassady had some tissue/cells drawn from a lump and the results "strongly suggest sarcoma". We'll have a full-on biopsy done this week to determine the type of cancer and hopefully, give us a clearer idea of what stage the cancer is in. I can barely bring myself to consider the options. Each time I start to think about what we'll do or how we'll handle it, I find myself changing the subject in my head. Avoidance! It's my friend. Denial! It's the first stage. Or so they tell me. How in the hell am I supposed to make a decision? I find myself asking how much this or that will cost as if it matters. I don't care how much it costs - I just don't want to put him through the trauma of surgery and chemo and all of that without a guarantee that it will work. And of course there are no guarantees - I know this, but it doesn't help to know it. It's like the price tag is the onl...

Bah! I'd have to give the US team a D grade overall. They didn't really show up against the Czech's or Ghana and it was a pretty mediocre attempt all-around. As much as I'd like to complain about some of the calls the refs made, I won't because we still would have needed to score again against Ghana and who knows what might have happened in the second half if we had a tie going into it, but we didn't score again anyway. One lousy goal was all they could manage? Sad! So now, I am firmly a supporter of Mighty Mighty England. Go Lions! I might be rooting for Germany a wee bit considering my heritage is almost 100% German and I was conceived there. But I'm all England, all the time as far as the World Cup goes from here on out. I will root for England, but I will NOT, I repeat NOT eat a full English breakfast. Beans? For breakfast? Whaddya nuts?

Futbol Corn Dog Originally uploaded by Corn Dog . This is our sad attempt at turning Corn Dog into a soccer, I mean football. Why DO Americans call it soccer when the rest of the world calls it football? Could we not concede this one small thing and convert to calling it football? We could call American football something appropriately tough so as not to offend any of the delicate egos. Something like...Pigskinning. You know, they call the football the pigskin and the American Pigskinning League has a nice ring to it. Or maybe something less PETA-offensive. How about we just switch them up - soccer will be Am. football and football will be soccer. We could go with the short and sweet footie. I just don't think that word carries enough testosterone in it for American football players. It'll never fly. Dave suggests Cheeseball. Now that, I could go for. The American Cheeseball League. I think it's rather jingly! I guess we're left on the fringe on this one....

A few of my more loyal readers may remember a story I told a few months ago about The Great Squirrel Attack of 2006 . And either something is very wrong with my karma or I've had a bout of wrong-place-wrong-time situations with animals this year because the story I'm about to tell you is 100% true. Believe it or not. The Scene: I sat in the middle orange chair this Saturday. Minding my own business. Drinking cappucino and smoking cigarettes (man, I need to quit - I despise the habit and am ashamed to smoke sometimes.). Anyway, I was sitting here enjoying the sun and the weekend when I felt something land on the top of my head. Now, I'm sitting under a peach tree. A peach tree that has a LOT of peaches on it. Granted, they're not ripe and you wouldn't expect them to fall, but I've seen some on the ground already. Those that aren't making the grade are already being cut and tossed aside like yesterday's rotten rice. But whatever landed on my head bounced o...