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Things my dogs have eaten:
My pristine Blackberry 8530. My Emmie chewed right through the ALT button and I had to buy me a whole new phone because a broken ALT button means you can’t properly punctuate texts and emails. (Did you know that new 8530s are $500??)
My Blackberry phone charger
My replacement Blackberry phone charger
My crackers
My peanut butter crackers
Raisins (this is toxic to dogs but of course, it didn’t affect my Poppy at all but I have the vet bill to show for my lack of attention)
Snickers bar(s)
Toilet paper
My dignity
My carpet
The once-white grout in between my tile flooring
My G.I. Jane dvd
At least 8 pairs of shoes (seriously)
At least 2 tubes of Neosporin (not toxic but beware of the doggie gas toxicity you will experience)
Entire ketchup packets
Pepto bismal
Gummy snacks
Old bread
New bread
Bread that was supposed to be all mine
At least 6 book covers (good sources of fiber, apparently)
At least the edges of 4 other books’ pages
More rugs and towels than I can count
Each other’s poop (grisly discovery)
Grass
More grass
Worms (specifically earth worms, not parasitic ones)
A dead bird (almost)
Ants
My newly-bought used digital camera (telling are the teeth marks on the lenses)
My USB drives with all manner of writing on them (okay, they didn’t actually eat them but that was a close call)
My daddy’s hand
My balance
My neighbor’s respect
My car floorboards
All of their toys
Their dog bowls
My flipflops
My purple sweater
My blue sweather
My pea green sweater
My Clinique cranberry lipstick. R.I.P.
The contents of my bathroom trashcan
The dogs have also eaten away the anger I feel with they happiness they bring…especially when they are asleep.
A fun excerpt from the life and times, baby.
ML: I was the innocent victim of a wasp sting.
ML: [indecipherable words strung together with inappropriate pauses]
Bryan: Hey, you—
ML: mrph [unimaginable babbling]
B: So, basically, you sound just like Person X when he has neurological reactions to migraines.
ML: How do you feel?
“Unnamed Person”: Much better. I was a human geyser. But I’m looking damn good today in my skinny jeans and white belt.
ML: Is it called a human flute? Flue? A slat? [the word ML was looking for was “funnel”]
B: [indecipherable response as ML tries to think clearly]
B: Girl?
B: Call me if you need an am-bu-lance. It too expensive to actually call the am-bu-lance.
ML: meep
B: [pretends to understand and obviously didn’t hear ML]
ML: Stoppit
B: Cheerio, chappie
ML: I will have to execute a name change on new doggie if I get her. Obviously, I like maggie but she looks just like an Emma to me, too. Or Emmie. What is your reaction to having it be a fatty cyst?
B: Please I ain’t Karen. I have superpowers and the ability to communicate with the dead.
Stop stalking my blog and me. Seriously.
the days of his domination are over
the days of him going too far
the days of me pretending to be appalled
now he’s genuinely startled when I take him too far
he crumples as a child dropkicked on green grass in the early spring
he fetus-hugs himself
licking his wounds
the ones I’ve created
too much info
is never enough
Bryan has answered seven pressing questions (seven, because he refused to answer any more or less because of his ocd). Enjoy.
1. Do you find Nestle Crunch bars slightly more satisfying than love? Be honest.
When I was young, I did find Nestle Crunch bars more satisfying than love. But, truth be told, love to me then was make believing my high school girlfriend at the time (we’ll call her Melody Eclair) was actually a sophomore named Bo while a certain third wheel rocked herself crazily in the corner of my black Chevy S-10. Now, when pressed, I’d have to say the only thing I find more satisfying than love is a good creme brulee, so long as the layer on top gives you that little crunch.
2. What does it mean if a guy has medium-sized feet and squinty eyes? Don’t lie.
It means orgasm is probably out of the question for all involved.
3. I haven’t gotten a text in hours. Why is this happening to me?
Because you say things like, “I thought you’d never wanted to hear from me again,” “cooooooookies,” and “my dog peed on me.”
4. When are you going to provide me with a homecooked meal again?
You’ve requested Hamburger Helper of the Cheeseburger Macaroni variety. While technically this meal is beneath my level of skill, I will make this for you next Tuesday, with brownies for dessert.
5. Who would win in a break-neck, all-goes fight between bindo and Val?
I’m going with Val. I have a feeling she knows how to throw elbows. Bindo would get distracted by something depressing and write a wonderful poem about it, though.
6. Who let the dogs out? And what the hell was up with all the coconut in the Bahamas?
You let the dogs out, just the same way that you lost your room key and foolishly thought that, because we spent thousands of dollars to go on a trip together, I wanted to spend time with you. As far as the coconuts go, I didn’t see them. I was more impressed with all the men in speedos, which I don’t think you noticed because you hadn’t hit puberty yet.
7. Don’t you secretly wish you had a Blackberry Curve instead of dinky iPhone?
Never. All your readers who have iPhones should download the free App “words with friends” and challenge me, PoeticGrin, to a battle.
Believe it or not, people don’t think of me as particularly brash.
Perhaps pessimistic but I’ve been called many a time “happy go lucky,” which is ironic and sad because I am not happy or lucky and I don’t like to go anywhere.
Or as Bryan would say, I’m only happy when I’m in my dark place. If I’m not in my dark place, Bryan says I’m manic. When I’m convinced I want a dog as big as me, Bryan says I’m manic…but encourages me just the same (fodder for his good time, you know). When I tell Bryan I have a new boyfriend after one date, he says, “of course you do, Manic One.” When I don’t stay in bed all day, Bryan says I’m manic.
I do not feel manic. I feel tremors. I’ve grown weary of roller coasters. I’d prefer a flat-line (except of course when I’m flat-lined, I hate it).
Good luck sounds so ridiculous and inappropriate
You don’t need luck to express talent and that’s the truth.
My horoscope says you all love me today. That’s fabulous. Thank you!
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: