Tag: humor

I Found An Age Older Than Dirt — Golden Girl Age

I guess this is what a Golden Girl would look like if the show started now instead of in 1985

I recently discovered I am as old as the characters in The Golden Girls were when that show started. I can’t begin to express how horrifying this is to me. When the show first aired, I was 17 years old. Now I am 53, inching towards 54, firmly in Golden Girl territory. It’s appalling. How the hell did this happen?

Now I guess the only question that remains is which Golden Girl am I? Obviously, because I’m not 79, it’s safe to say that I am not Sophia. Not yet, anyway. Clearly, I am not the charming, sexpot Blanche. And, I’m not nearly as doe-eyed and sweet as Rose. So that means I am, of course, Dorothy. Sarcastic, cynical, strong-willed, and, quite frankly, a little bitchy. She might have been teased for being a little manly, but at least Dorothy was arguably the smartest of the group. So that is a positive, I guess. One thing Dorothy and I do not share in common is the wherewithal to live with other women. I would not at this age live with my mother and two other women, or just my mother, or just two other women, or actually any women at all. Women are complicated. I prefer my husband, my sons, and our dogs. They take up less counter space in the bathroom.

Aging is a mixed bag. I am so grateful for the wisdom I have today that I did not have at 17 when The Golden Girls began. I like myself far more now than I have at any point in my younger past. I don’t want to go back in time to when I was younger. I simply want to be who I am now but in a 25-year-old body. Oh, the trouble I would get into being that young and understanding my power. It’s frightening to think what I would be capable of. Damn.

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Loki, Puppy Of Mischief, Strikes Again

In Puppy Prison doing time

Tonight calls for a haiku about our relentless (and adorable) little corgi who has been living up to his namesake today by pulling double duty in our bathrooms.

.

One corgi puppy

on an epic quest to maim

all the t.p. rolls

Damn puppers is at it again.
Good thing he is cute.

I may have to pull a 2020 move and start stockpiling toilet paper because it appears we may be in for a shortage.

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He Went To The Vet To Get Tutored

We took our puppy to get neutered today. He was rather distraught when we picked him up. And he was really angry about the Cone of Shame. Like, REALLY. So, we agreed to let him release this statement in lieu of my writing about his experiences today.

Are you kidding me with this?

“Hello. My humans call me Loki. I am also known as The Dog. This morning, at approximately 0715 hours, the tall human brought me to the place where I normally get lots of pets and treats. This morning, though, there were no treats. They took me away from the tall human into a back room I had not seen before. They shaved my paw, and while I was busy sitting there wondering how this weird haircut might mess things up for me with the ladies, they stuck me with a needle. I was appalled. I don’t remember much after that, but I do know that I woke up without my balls. They were there this morning. I’m positive they were there this morning. Anyway, I got some pets and a weird shaved paw and then my balls were gone. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this crime. I feel violated. They took away my reproductive choice without even consulting me about it. What kind of family is this? I’m not sure I can trust these people again. I don’t think we will be working this out. Ever. Like not ever.

Oh…wait. Hold up a second. Gotta go. The tall one just brought my kibble. I’ll take the food from him, but I am for sure going to knock over my water bowl every day for the rest of my life in retribution for the cruelty they exhibited by absconding with my gonads. And the tall one shall henceforth hold my bones when I chew them.”

Who is sorry now, human?

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Serve Yourself A Self-Love Sandwich

Tonight’s dinner

Some times, due to time constraints, you have to cut corners and do something less than optimal, like have a plain turkey and swiss on gluten free bread for dinner. On those occasions, though, don’t think of yourself as anything less than the marvelous queen (or king, I guess) that you are. Even if dinner is just a yawn of a sandwich, make sure you cut that shit on the diagonal because you are absolutely worth it.

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Reversal Of Fortune

Joe seeks an escape from the deadly dinosaur fangs of a teething, five month old corgi puppy. He finds refuge in the escapee’s usual area of perpetual confinement. Loki runs towards him, desiring to sink his teeth into the socks of distraction, and realizes with regret his fangs cannot find purchase with the plastic wall of dissatisfaction in place. With nowhere for his hormonal malice to go, our tiny, angsty dinosaur regards the human in his cage, and asks the question on everyone’s mind:

“Who’s a good boy?”

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Psycho Corgi, Qu’est Que C’est

Sometimes you make a choice and feel really good about it. You buy yourself an adorable corgi puppy and bring him home. He is fun and sweet and a good boy. He is the joy on your difficult days, the sunshine when it’s cloudy. And then, one night you’re watching television and look over at your sweet puppy and this is what you see:

The chances of being killed by your corgi are low, but never zero.

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GET THE BUBBLE WRAP FOR BETTY WHITE!

I saw this post on Twitter and had only one thought: as a country, we need to get some bubble wrap, lots of bubble wrap. It’s imperative. Betty White is a national treasure. We have had a slate of shitty years recently. We’re all overwrought and stressed out. We need something good. Wait. Hold that. We deserve something good. We deserve to celebrate Betty White at 100. We must get bubble wrap and make her a fetching pantsuit out of it, put her in a protected room with the puppies and kittens she adores, and then light candles and pray for her safe deliverance to her 100th birthday party on January 17th. We. Deserve. Something. Good. And. This. Is. That. Thing.

Lord, hear our prayers.

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The Spiders Are Still Here, Dammit!

Photo of our cute puppy in the shade because it’s over 70 degrees and he has black fur

It has been warm in Denver. Record-breaking warm. National news coverage level of warm. I was in Target this morning and I saw two women wearing sandals. SANDALS. In December. In Denver. This is nuts. The latest I am usually able to wear flip flops is October. We’re not exactly south Florida. We’re literally a mile high. When other people are getting rain, we are getting snow. But, here we are at December 2nd and we still have not had our first snow of the fall. We have not made it to December without a measurable snowfall since record keeping began here in 1882. It has been 224 consecutive days since we last had snowfall. This is not good for many reasons. The first of which is two-thirds of Colorado’s water supply comes from snowpack. The second is the dry conditions put us at serious risk for forest and brush fires. And the third of which is this:

This not-so-little wolf spider (can’t tell from the photo but he is about the size of my palm when his legs are extended) was waiting for me in my garage this morning. I rarely see these fellows after September. Sometimes I see them through October if it is a warm October. But I have not once seen them in November or beyond. Until this morning. As I came around the corner to my car door at 7:10 am so I could drive my son to school, he was right there. After I dropped a juicy expletive, I judged that he was at a safe distance for me to access my car door. I rushed in and slammed the door, checking to make sure he hadn’t made a leap for it (they do jump). I was safe. As much as I wanted to back out and run it over, he was a little too close to the wall. Damn. When I returned home and opened the garage door, I noticed he had moved. He was now positioned about right where I would need to exit. So, I did the only logical thing. I crawled over the center console, popped open the passenger side car door, and exited that way. When I later went to leave for an appointment, I noticed he was still there, so I entered my car from the passenger side because that is what any sane arachnophobe would do.

I like warm weather. I like sunshine. I’ve enjoyed not having to wear hats and gloves and snow boots yet. But with this latest spider development, I’ve decided to start praying for snow. I barely tolerate those hunting spiders in the late summer and fall, when I expect to see them. I certainly won’t stand for this now. They should be hiding underground at this very moment. They need to go and, for that to happen, it needs to get a lot colder and snowier here ASAP.

So, if anyone knows how to summon snowfall, I’m all ears. I would like to be able to be fear free in my garage and I would also like to enter my car through the driver’s side door tomorrow and for the foreseeable future. Feel free to leave me an ancient alchemist’s snowfall recipe or the number for a reputable shaman in the comments section. Thanks in advance.

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