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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.

Bryan says I am unable to identify the difference between a rat and a squirrel. He seriously doubts my mental clarity on this point.

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!

Due warning: this is NOT a creative or funny post. Unless you want to be subjected to paragraphs and paragraphs of endless venting and bitching, go ahead and move on to someone else’s blog and come back here soon. I adore you, dear reader; I just have issues that the medication is not smothering at the moment.

 

So my horoscope says I will be especially aggressive this Thursday and I think, oh poor world, you’re in for it today. Ask anyone. Ask Bryan. I stay aggressive. I stay offended.

 

(Okay, granted, Bryan is not the best person to ask because he truly is constantly offensive to me. He’s so judgmental and abrasive. For example, I invited him to come to my parents’ house this weekend and they are without electricity because of the ice storm and he was saying really appalling things like, “we can go up on Saturday instead of Friday, if that helps. I’ll help your mother in the kitchen.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so berated in my life. Except for that time when Bryan was like, “medicatedlady, I’ll help you move, no problem.” Why can’t he stick to NICE, pleasant things like accusing me of rapid cycling when I am clearly unipolar?)

 

I have been short with my mother the last two nights because 1) she wouldn’t just tell me how the gas heat in her house worked, and 2) my father starts talking in the background and laughing loudly every time my mother is talking to me on the phone and she’s like, “did you hear what your daddy just said?” I tell her, “no, I’m on the phone with you.” What’s really awful about this is my mother is truly, truly the sweetest lady ever (ask anyone, ask Bryan).

 

And then I have *minor* resentment issues with the potential loves of my life because I want fire and sparks and someone who actually calls me once in a blue moon and who I don’t expect to just call me out of the blue one day to tell me he’s back in Japan and oh, he didn’t have a chance to tell me beforehand but I was a good person to “hang out” with. And then I’ll be angry. I’m already angry, a sort of a pre-emptive rage/resentment combo that brings up my rage/resentment concerning other assholes who have sinned against me. What keeps going through my head is I can’t even say we’re friends because I think I was just someone to kill time with. I’m apparently only worthy of being someone to kill time with and I am angry about it.

 

No. I’m bitter about it.

 

So, world, I am rooting for you. I sincerely hope you can withstand my rampage. I’ve had too much caffeine already, world. That’s probably not a good sign either. I am trying to stifle myself with lots of food and ice cream and creating toilet seat flair on facebook, but I don’t think it’s working. But, fear not, world, my next doctor’s appointment is tomorrow.

SOB with me

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