On and On and On

Not to go on about my dog, but I think we thought in some small way that a puppy would be a trainer baby–you know, something to get us used to taking care of another being, wake us up in the middle of the night, and get us up early in the morning so that the shock of weekends before 9 a.m. wouldn’t be so…shocking. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, we ended up with the World’s Laziest Dog–a dog who gets up at noon on the weekends, and goes out for a nice brisk walk to the end of the corner and comes back and naps for three hours, because that 100-yard pee and poop just plum tuckered her out. She requires all of 11 minutes of exercise a week, and a good romp around the bedroom knocks her out for DAYS. Sunday, for example, I arose at 8:45 a.m., while Sunny didn’t get up until 11:30, when I rudely woke her ass up and dragged her outside for her morning poop, because Jesus people, you can’t sleep all day! After I woke up, I could see that she’d wormed her way under the covers in her bed, and when I went to retrieve her, shot me a look like I was ripping her paws off. She didn’t even have to PEE, for chrissake, she just SLEPT. UNTIL ELEVEN THIRTY.

I guess what I’m saying is if you’re looking for a low-maintenance, lazy-ass dog, get a pug. She won’t go for a jog with you, but by God, she knows how to sleep, and she snuggles like nobody’s business.

Also, Cassidy asked me yesterday if I watched Big Brother, and the answer, I’m embarrassed to admit, is yes. I’ve watched Big Brother since season one, and it’s now a sort of weird sentimental thing, as it’s the first show that Adam and I ever watched together (bad reality TV! How romantic!). This was, oh my God, eight years ago. EIGHT YEARS. I don’t know why that’s striking me as a strange sort of eternity (in a good way), but it seems so long ago I can’t even believe it. But anyway, I have a ridiculous passion for Big Brother that cannot be denied–from the first season, when One Legged Eddie won, to the neverending antics of Evil Dr. Will, I’m pathetically addicted, in part because it’s so, so bad. I mean, where else on television can you find grown adults who talk seriously about how well they did in some nebulous “food competition” where they get giant vats of butter poured on them and have to squeegee it out into big buckets of popcorn? And people CRY about their performance in said competition? Where, I ask you? WHERE?

I’m exhausted, and intended to go on about something more meaningful like, I don’t know, too-young teenagers in bikinis–oh, what the hell, I’ll go there for a second. Dude, tonight, I was at the gym, which is near the pool, and our little nymphet neighbor, who is no more than FOURTEEN, was toodling around in a zebra-striped itsy-bitsy bikini, and a) she looked super-hot; and b) every man/boy/whatever within 100 miles was ogling her, and I just wanted to cover her up like Johnny did to Paulette in that awful, terrible talent show scene at the end of Grease 2 (what?), and I guess I’m wondering, between this and the Victoria’s Secret rant, when did I get so old? And will I get over this? Am I being a prude by proxy? She’s FOURTEEN! Shouldn’t she be in a … muu muu, or at least a ONE PIECE? JESUS.

I mean, I am being a prude by proxy and also a crotchety old lady. I know. But God, I don’t know. Kids are growing up way too fast these days, and God, I just hope I don’t have a daughter, because if she–at 14–tries to act sexy in zebra for even ONE SECOND, she’s off to the nunnery. TO THE NUNNERY.

Finally, because I mentioned it once, it’s worth noting that I finished Atwood’s Cat’s Eye, and ultimately really loved it. I didn’t enjoy reading it, but I love it in retrospect, which sounds completely illogical, but makes sense in reality. It’s just one of those books I love thinking about, but hated reading. Which brings me to my next statement. Have any of you ever read Helprin’s Winter’s Tale? TwoBusy recommended it to me a few weeks ago, and it’s one of those books I’ve had for ages, but never picked up. I am positively enchanted. I’m obsessed, afraid I’ll devour it too quickly, so I’m reading it slowly, slowly, savoring every single word. I’m dreaming about it, mooning over it at work, weeping if I can’t snatch a free moment to read it. I’ve re-read chapters already, and I’m only 1/10th of the way through. Magic. It’s magic! Go read!

Between this book and the recipes I’ve stolen from him lately, I think TwoBusy is actually starting to worry that Adam and I are going to set up a yurt in his backyard just to soak off some more recommendations and eat his food, and actually, it’s a valid concern, as we’re very seriously considering it. I’m hoping his wife and kids don’t mind. We’re nice, clean people, and in fact, we come with our own super-special FloorMate.

Happy Tuesday!

*Wilco.

29 comments July 9th, 2007