Hello? Is This Thing On?

Writing this, I wonder if anyone’s still reading. We both screwed off for a good long time. 15 days? eek. Have we ever done that before? I’m too lazy to scroll through the archive and check. But I think it’s pretty rare. So rare that Ann Adams, the sweet lady that she is, wondered if we were ok. Yep, we’re ok. We just got busy for different reasons, and the computer made a meal out of my last attempt at a post. There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to save the post as the computer freezes, rebooting the computer, seeing the file you saved, breathing a sigh of relief, then opening it, and all you see is c:\blog.txt. Nope, that wasn’t the post. So rather than writing that one again, I figured I’d do a random thoughts one to get me going. *hits save first.*

Something has been puzzling me for a while. I went to the store to get Trixie a tug toy. She ripped Babs’s old tug toy in half, and then gnawed the everloving hell out of one her puppy raisers gave her so the rubber was hanging off and revealing hard plastic. So I thought I’d better get one made out of rope or something. I went into this store, and the first few tug toys they showed me were stuffed animal-like things with springy legs. I didn’t want them because I thought she might get at the stuffing. But I especially didn’t want the one that looked like a chihuahua!

What is that? dog-devouring practice? “here, killer, have a tug Schitzu. It’ll get ya all nice and strong for the real ones.” Then they see the neighbour’s yappy little bichan frise and they think “Ooo! a tug toy that moves on its own!” and before you can say sit, Gurrgurrgurrgurr yipe! Yipe! Yipe! What in christ are the makers of toys thinking? Are they hoping for a lawsuit? I was lucky enough to find a tug toy that consisted of a rope with knots at each end. I’ve never heard of a living knotted rope, so I think I’m safe.

I must be really nuts because I had another weird dream about a random dog following Trixie and I home. This one was worse, though. Not only did it follow us home, it mauled Trixie so badly that it broke one of her legs. In the dream, I was with another girl and her dog, and we came upstairs and the dogs were playing. Suddenly, I thought the play got a little rough, so I came over, and found myself sandwiched by 3 dogs! Three? Um, uh-oh! Here we go again! Like in the other dream, I tried to pick up the phone, but they wouldn’t work. This time, every phone I tried to use, including my cell phone, yammered ads at me. Lucky for me, my parents showed up and took Trix and I to the vet, who yelled at me, demanding to know what took me so long to get there. This must be because Trixie got an eye and ear infection dealt with, the ear infection probably being caused by another dog licking her ears and me not getting them wiped out well enough. But man! Two dreams about random dogs following us home? Weird!

And in other dog news, news that I’m horribly behind on writing up here, Barbie has made it home from GDB with her own black lab named Rosamae. There’s a picture up on her blog if ya wanna see. And my final bit of doggy goodness, if you just can’t get enough guide dog school fun, *listens to a large groan from readers which is outdone by a cry of nooooo! from Steve*, Jessica is at GDB training with her woofer, Newmar. I’m sure you’d get used to calling him Newmar, but that sounds like an alien planet or a factory or something. Sorry, Jessica, he sounds like an awesome woofer, but the poor soul got quite the name. I’m sure he’s already grown to suit the name for you, though.

Ok, ok, enough dog things. Moving on to….the TV. I saw a couple of commercials that made me sit up and take notice. One was for a deodorant that provided…prescription-strength sweat-protection. What? People need prescriptions for this? How the hell much do they sweat? Maybe more people who ride the bus should get that.

And then there was a commercial for a truck that was supposed to be always ready for fun. It’s name was the Dodge Avenger. Yeah, because an avenger sounds like such a party animal. It sounds like something that would run you down when its driver was having a fit of road rage. Nothing should be called an avenger, unless it’s an army tank.

And what is with the commercial that seems to be only people singing the alphabet to a rock tune? Is it some kind of literacy thing? All I know is I’m walking around singing the new rocky alphabet. Thanks for the refresher. I didn’t need it, but thanks anyway.

Now that I can use a bunch of functions on my phone, I do things I never thought I’d end up doing, like, texting. I looked at people writing messages on their cell phones and thought, why don’t you just, er, call them? But I’ve realized that sometimes a text message is more efficient, in theory at least. But when you’re me, and take…forever..to..write…a…message, maybe the efficiency is gone. I now sort of understand why the silly codes you see everywhere were created. But I will not use them. Here I am looking for ways to capitalize letters and use real punctuation. The English language means too much to me to give in to the dark side!

The English language means a lot to me, and so does my ability to speak French, but apparently I’m losing it. The other day, I had the opportunity to speak French, I opened my mouth, and no sound came out. I ended up caving and speaking English. I felt so bad. Damn it I didn’t want to lose it, but it appears it’s slipping away!

And I think that’s about it for now. I will write more stuff, sooner than 15 days from now, hopefully.

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