April 19, 2004

Babies & Dogs & Friends

The last few weeks have been a flurry of activity and sunshine. Friends were here for Easter, and sleepovers were held and crunchy rolls and bunny cake and cheese fries were eaten and champagne was drunk and Freaks and Geeks DVDs were watched and pointy-toed heels were worn and hot guys were eyed at mass and cigarettes were smoked on the back patio and as always there were laughter and tears.

toasting at the baptism reception

bottom's up, she's officially a catholic now!

posing by the scones

Dog adventure number one took place in my parents' neighborhood, where Shelley and I saw fit to rescue a Jack Russell who nearly planted herself underneath the tires of my car. I opened the car door to inspect her tag, and she hopped inside and jumped back and forth between our laps, licking us. We put her back in her backyard after finding her address on her tag, hoping that trespassing laws don't apply to good samaritans, and tried to plug up a hole where it looked like she got out with a child's plastic grocery store buggy.

Then Daisy and Zuko went on a walk around the lakes with H. and her two dogs, and all was well and good until Daisy and Kaury's little one tried to eat each other's faces off, Daisy went into time out, and the remaining dogs ran around the yard taking turns peeing in the exact same spots.

Then Sal, the giant yellow lab next door, decided that he now lives at my house. Which means that every time I've turned around the past few days, he's magically appeared in my backyard. He's a total fence scaler. Luckily, my dogs are fearsome enough of his gargantuanness that they don't try to kill him, so they're all basically ignoring each other, but he eats all of their food in that Lab-like way that does not involve actual chewing or swallowing but in which his throat transforms into a giant vacuum. This morning, he destroyed my dogs' bathing sponge and a bottle of Avon bug spray. I am so overcome by his cuteness, though, that I don't even care. I hope he doesn't totally trample every single thing I have ever planted with his spastic largeness.

Dogs. Just ... dogs. Everywhere. I am ready for a break from the dogs.

So instead I'll focus on babies. Namely, the many pictures I took of the cutest one there is.

cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world cutest baby in world


About this time in ...



I'll have you know that I just danced around the living room with Marley in my arms to "Get Right with God."


I can't even begin to think about the long-term as I can hardly decide what to do from one minute to the next. Okay, should I eat this Snickers egg? Why, I think I should! Am I going to go refill my water bottle? Sure, why not?


It's hard to hold your shoulders back when you're sad and worry that everyone notices.



I felt physically ill and as if I were about to vomit like Ramona Quimby in the back of the taxi-cab. That's kind of how I feel when I watch The Bachelor.



"Let's go to a bar," he suggested. I looked down at myself, wearing my glasses and my wet, sweaty hair twisted up in a white pencil, of all things, and at him, looking like Moondoggie on a bad day, and shrugged. "Okay."



I then suggested that if she thinks it's unusual for a 16-year-old boy to be interested in sex, she should sit down with a big bowl of popcorn and a bottle of smelling salts and watch American Pie.


I remember always being bitter about this because to me and my siblings, getting to watch Days of Our Lives at noon was the highlight of any day off of school.


As we watched Pretty in Pink in our pajamas and decided that James Spader was much sexier than Andrew McCarthy back then and we sang along with Duckie's lip-synching moment of glory, I realized sleepily that maybe my friends aren't so horrible after all.


You have the nerve to not so politely shift the location of a pre-wedding gathering from my mother's house to your own, and then you have the even more heinous nerve to suggest taking it over and making it a COUPLES party when the person whose plans you are hoarding in on is FUCKING SINGLE AND YOU KNOW VERY WELL HOW ALIENATED SHE FEELS ALREADY? Are you out of your fucking, smug married mind?

get notified.

previous next

journal archives

Copyright 2004 elb