SCRUMPTIOUS

You don't know how bad I wanted to put this on facebook. Meet the amputated rear leg of an unfortunate labrador. A little tough, but the taste makes up for it...

A Runner's Runs

I was out for a leisurely run this afternoon, and about 1/4 of a mile in, I started floating air biscuits. This is not unusual, as a matter of fact it's pretty much an every run occurrence. My body gets warmed up, my digestive system gets to flowin', and my ass gets to blowin'. It's one of the many, MANY reasons I prefer to run outside. I hate trapping in my trumpet sounds just to be considerate towards others, farting is NATURAL, and I'm pretty sure it's unhealthy to let it build into a pressure cooker that you expel like a cannon blast as soon as you're safely contained in your vehicle. Anyway, I get about a mile and a half in, and I'm letting one go, when I realize this particular poof is taking a turn for the worse. You know, that sensation you get that there's more than just air meeting the brown eye. I immediately pull back, but I'm not sure if I was in time or not. I'm sweaty anyway, so it's impossible to say whether the moisture I'm feeling is just perspiration I'm noticing more now because I'm worried I just sharted myself, or if I just made my Hanes Her Ways into a fudge factory. Then I was thinking, how gross is it for me to keep running if I might be smearing doody all over my cheeks? Then I thought, would it be less disgusting for me to walk back? No, and running will get me there faster. So I keep going, but have to stop suddenly as I'm surprised by one of those lower gut to butt quakes, that tell you "IF YOU DO NOT PUT ALL OF YOUR EFFORT INTO STOPPING IT, YOU WILL SOIL YOURSELF". This feeling came and went my entire way back, and got increasely intense each time, like I was about to give birth to a bouncing baby BLOB out of my bunghole . Of course I was still running when I felt it was okay to. For one thing I was pissed that this anus attack was ruining my run, and secondly I was STILL trying to get home as fast as possible. It was like I knew running was only making it worse but at the same time I felt time was of the essence . And I didn't want MY essence turning my yoga pants into a toilet. To make a long story short (too late, I know, but I like to entertain), I made it home in time. SUCH a feeling of relief in the aftermath. And GOOD NEWS, no boogers in the briefs. The whole, tortuous journey back, I was also trying to figure out what was causing my horrible affliction. At first, I blamed it on the taco dinner we had at "family night" at the YMCA the night before. The girls insisted we go, it was just a handful of families all sitting at tables together, the parents trying to make small talk between awkward silences. ECH. Anyway, I was belching up seasoned ground beef juice for hours afterward. But then I was like no, I bet it was the piece of groom's cake I ate after lunch today. One of my coworker's got married last weekend, and I ate a little because I really wanted something sweet, and the frosting was like excessively sugary wet cement, and the cake (chocolate- not my fave anyway) was this greasy brick. THEN it dawned on me. I'm premenstrual! And not only does that cause yuck stomach, it also makes me feel exhausted, makes my boobs hurt, and oh yeah, I HAVE been an irritable bitch lately. Mystery solved! I really wish you could turn your period off like a faucet when you don't want to have any more kids. It's freaking miserable. And it seems to get worse the older I get. But I don't want to go on the pill. Or have something implanted in my arm. Or shoved up my vagina. Or have major surgery to get all of the plumbing removed. Which would only make me go through early menopause. ANOTHER thing we all have to look forward to. It's so much fun being a woman. THEN when I started thinking about running and my period, I started thinking about the marathon, which is on the 5TH of Nov. Any ideas on how to throw my schedule out of whack so I don't have to wear a diaper and use a roll of paper towels as a tampon? Isn't it true that if you work out a LOT LOT LOT, you can actually stop having your period? Like gymnasts, and ballerinas, and bodybuilders. So if I pump iron til I look like this, I can say goodbye to Aunt Flo. It would be worth it. I put this other picture in because it was in the images for "women body builders" which I thought was interesting as this small brown individual is neither a woman nor bulky enough to be considered a body builder. I also dig his beak, his wife beater, and his bottle blond 'do...

An Eye For A Turd

"JENNIFER! COME HERE AND SEE WHAT YOUR DOG DID!!" Aaron yells from the other end of the house. I roll my eyes and sigh. My foster dog, Viola, is constant fuel for his GIANT fire of complaints. "She pooped in your room!" Tatum shouts excitedly as she comes running down the hallway. "What?!" I say. She hasn't pinched a loaf inside since the first day I brought her home (over two months ago). Annoyed and resigned, I gather all of my carpet cleaning equipment and trudge to my room. There, gleaming in the glow of the overhead light, is a greenish colored, soft looking slimer. I drop to my knees a foot a way, and reach forward with a wad of paper towel to snatch it up. "Well, it's firmer than it looks." I try to look on the bright side. Wait a minute. It's REALLY firm. I pick it up in one piece, and turn it over to reveal a flat base and writing on the bottom. "Aaron, you are SUCH an asshole!!" He can barely hear me, he is overcome with glee and giggling uncontrollably. He even sprinkled water over it to make it look more realistic. Isn't HE the clever one? This is war.
So we had a puppy in last week that had it's head squashed like a grape by the bigger dog in the household. It had several bones broken in the right side of its face. We had to keep it a few days before we could sedate it to check it's jaw, giving the inflammation and drainage time to improve. As long as the jaw looked okay (in other words, as long it wouldn't have been kinder to euthanize it because it's mouth would never work right again), we were going to perform a procedure he needed while he was already asleep. You see, when the dog squeezed its head like a pimple, one of his eyeballs popped out. Eeewww, hahahaha! I told Aaron this story the same way, leaving the best part for last. It REALLY grossed him out. Thankfully, we found that the puppy's jaw was functional, and his facial bone breaks should heal with time. So the doc lopped his orb off. At this point, it looks like a dry, shriveled black olive with a piece of raw pork stuck to it. I put it in a ziploc ,then in the fridge, so it wouldn't rot anymore. Then I brought it home and put it in the back of the freezer, hidden behind those frozen goods that collect freezer burn for months before anyone pitches them. When I got up the next morning, I carefully removed it from behind it's protective bag of tortellinis, and put it in the bottom of a flowered gift bag. I put a plastic Walmart on top of that, then completed the package with a card that said: Aaron (with a heart next to it)- You are the apple of my eye (drawn picture of an eye). Love, Jenny. I hung it on the door that leads from the garage to the house, then I called him after I got to work and told him that I thought I MIGHT have left some lights on in the house, including the garage light, in my rush to get to work on time that morning. You see, he had spent the better part of the morning bitching about how he always comes home to lights that have been left on aaallll daayy, so I figured that little white lie would get him to stop at the house. Moowahahahaha! I know it probably practically made him barf, I wish I could've seen him open it! I also know he was NOT expecting anything like that at all, it had been enough time since the trick turd and since I told him about the puppy, he probably thought I actually got him a PRESENT. hehehehe.
Of course, this prank almost had all of the joy sucked out of it by an incident involving one of Aaron's mother cluckers that same day. I just want to say there is no concrete evidence that links Viola to this fowl crime.
Speaking of pranks, Clappy Cathy (her current nickname- referring to the venereal disease, not applause) and I were getting ready to take a couple of our rescue dogs out to the yard to run around. We often do this during our lunch break. The day was particularly cold, so I asked Biz (short for Bizznitch) to borrow her jacket, mine was kinda thin. She said I could. After I pulled the sleeves up to my elbows and make some short arm/person jokes (we constantly harrass her about her height- because we love her), Clappy Cathy and I headed out with two of our pooches. As we watched them tear around and tried to avoid having our legs taken out from under us, I decided to explore Biz's jacket pockets. "Yeecchh!!" I squealed after realizing I was fondling an old snot rag. Because I blamed Biz for the crusty booger germs on the tips of my fingers, Clappy Cathy and I proceeded to fill her pockets with leaves and sticks in a petty form of revenge. Chuckling as we worked, we started talking about pranks in general. I told her how we used to lube each other's car door handles at the clinic I worked at in Texas. It's EXTREMELY funny to watch the person try to open their door, ESPECIALLY if they're in a hurry. One girl I used to work with almost fell over backward because she tried to yank it open so fast. After a brief discussion, we decided the Doc was a perfect candidate for the Slip N' Flip . She was going to be leaving for the day shortly, and her vehicle was in a position where we could observe the action without being spotted by our prey. We ran inside, grabbed a bottle of lube, hauled butt out of the back gate, and smeared a huge blob under her driver door handle. "You can see some it it!" says Clappy. "She won't notice it. Trust me."
We rush back in. Then we wait. When the doc FINALLY says her goodbyes and heads out one door, we truck it over to another back exit on the building. "What's wrong?!" my Boss shouts after us. We hide on the side of the building (there are 4 of us) until she goes out the back gate. Then stealthily, almost cat-like, we craaawwwll onto the picnic table in the backyard and straighten up slowly until we can see over the fence. She reaches for the handle. "SNAP!!" She cocks her head and looks at it, perplexed. We erupt into insane cackles. She's amused, but I could already see the wheels turning. I don't doubt she is carefully plotting her retaliation. When I least expect it, EXPECT it...

I'm going to tongue punch your mom in the fart box, then read a book

So, I never thought another show could exist that cracks me up as much as The Soup, but I was wrong. Joel McHale, in all of his cheery, mean, sarcasticness, is still my first and best love, but my brother in laws introduced me to this guy, and I can't seem to get enough of him.

Daniel Tosh, of the Comedy Central show Tosh.o, is without a doubt a comic supergenius. Nothing is sacred, everyone and everything is fair game, and when I watch his show I laugh and laugh and laugh. Basically, he picks apart and makes fun of web videos and the people in them.

He's also on Twitter, and he'll ask random questions of his viewers sometimes. He shares the funniest answers, including the title to this post, which was one of the responses to "What are you going to do this summer?" There's just something about this phrase that is absolutely hilarious to me. I couldn't stop laughing after he showed it, and when I tried to go to bed that night I kept thinking about it and cracking up again. Obviously, I shared it with all of my coworkers the next day, and there've been numerous references to tongue punching and fart boxes ever since.

Unsolved Mysteries

I'm still pretty sure it's my office manager, a criminal who leaves things rather than taking them (i.e. daily foul smelling dumps, golden-tipped q-tips, pointless comments, useless suggestions, etc.), but anyway here's the picture I mentioned many moons ago when I blogged about the wascally waxer...

Beauty, eh?

So my camera is not working currently, a real pisser, so I've been using work's and my sister's for necessary and not so necessary snap shots. I'll let you decide which category this photo falls in....

I've been wanting to capture this oddity for a while. This is right down the road from me. Observe the car, the umbrella, the grill, and the chair (you can just see the top of it over the hood of the car). There are actually permanent dirt tire tracks in this lawn, where this car drives everyday to reach this back corner of the house, where it meets their fence. Most days, there's a morbidly obese gentleman, possibly shirtless (when weather permits), testing the limits of that plastic chair while chatting away on his cell phone. The grill is usually smoking (he looks like he indulges in a variety of meats frequently), and the umbrella is shading about 1/4 of his expansive girth. Are things so bad in the house? Is his wife constantly bitching about his increasing size and declining health, or does he just not want to share his bratwursts and burgers? And why the FRONT yard? Is it a cry for help? Should I run onto the lawn brandishing a fire extinguisher and whole grains? "PUT DOWN THE SAUSAGE SIR. IT'S OVER."

I was running a couple of weekends ago, and this older gentleman with perfectly sculpted hair that was the same color as his thick, dyed mustache, emerged from his front door in a matching bathrobe and slippers to fetch the paper from the end of his driveway. No one else I told about this thought it was strange or funny, I guess you had to be there. I seriously looked around for a film crew, I thought I was inadvertently plodding through a movie scene. Just wait til it hits the theatres and everyone sees me all sweaty and looking confused on the big screen! We'll see who's the weirdo then!

Reese was taking a shower with me tonight, and asked me why I had "those red things" (nipples). I told her she had them too, they were just smaller because she was little. She agreed, and went on to inform me that mine "look like scabs" because "they're so big." This reminded me of when Aaron said they look like ---- ----- ---- when I said his looked like fruit snacks. I used to think he said that just because he felt like I was insulting his little cherry flavored chews, but now I guess I have to admit there was some truth to his gibe. Really though, they could be compared to a lot worse. I mean, beef jerky bits might be a little tough and leathery, but they're also low in fat and calories, and a good source of protein....

Neaaarrr......FAR!

I always loved that bit on Sesame Street with Grover! Anyways, this blog is about how things can look a lot different from afar than they do close up. You may think you're looking at one thing, but in reality you're looking at something else entirely.
For instance, I was running along the other day, and I spotted a decent sized chunk of roadkill a block or so ahead. Not uncommon 'round these parts, but I still winced at the idea of getting a better look (and a better whiff) of it as I got closer....

However, when I got to a within a few feet of it, I realized it wasn't a rotting carcass after all....

...it was a tousled, trampled toupee. Hahahaha! I guess he got himself a fancier new rug and ditched the old one. Or maybe he had the top down and it flew off without him realizing it. Or maybe he just got tired of trying to be someone he's not (someone with hair).
At any rate, I told Aaron about it as I was grabbing my camera to take with me to work one morning (so I could swing by and snap some shots of that sweet piece), and he says "I've seen that! I almost picked it up!" "Eeeewww!!! Don't even think about it!" "What?! I could wash it, the girls could wear it- it would be funny!" Uuuhhh, no. Seeing it, taking pictures of it- that's funny. Actually taking it and wearing it- freaking nasty. Although they do say one man's trash is another man's treasure. Any takers? Dad?...Hahahaha!

Below, we have Exhibit B. My sister walked into to one of our exam rooms when she came for a visit with one of her dogs, and she thought she was looking at a picture of an animal with it's butt in the air giving birth....




When in fact, she was looking at this guy....

Like we would have a picture of a crowning critter on display to gag clients! I told her I was pretty sure she was the only sicko who thought the walrus was a fat assed creature pushing a baby out of its vagina, but after she mentioned it, I could see how she could make that mistake. And I was actually kind of disappointed in myself for not noticing it before. Was my twisted, disgusting imagination failing me? Naaahh.....

In running news, a marathon is finally coming back to Savannah!! The Rock N Roll marathon to be exact, Nov 5 2011. I am so excited!!! I've been wanting to run one, and this has got to be a sign that it's time- two of my favorite things rolled into one!! Music and running! Apparently they have bands playing along the way, cheerleaders at every mile, and themed water stations. Woohoo!

I'm thinking about being themed myself. Most female rock icons wear entirely too much clothing (or too much leather) for me to dress like them for a 26 mile run. I would love to be Janis Joplin or Stevie Nicks, but I'm not wearing long, flowing layers and a million accessories. So I'm thinking about Courtney Lovein' it. Baby Doll dress, messy pony tails sprayed with that yellow Halloween hair color, plenty of eyeliner and lipstick...whaddya think? I'll look the part even more several miles into it, because the eye makeup will be running down my face and my lipstick will be smeared everywhere...now that's a finish line photo I would definitely purchase...

My Worst Nightmares Realized

So, I haven't been able to escape other parent fraternization this summer. I have done my best to keep it to an absolute minimum, but it can't be completely avoided. The children must frolic together, unkempt and unruly, free from the bonds of school and stricter schedules.
I hate it. The adult interaction part anyway. I'm stuck making small talk and feigning interest when I really don't give a crap and I'm thinking "Why can't we just cover the who, when, and where and leave it at that??!!" Crikey!
There's a little girl right down the road that the girls particularly like to play with. I certainly don't mind her either, she's easy to have around, and they all get along for the MOST part. But I dread having to talk to her mom, not because she's a horrible person or anything, but because she drags on the conversation, filling it with random information I could give two tits about.
"Yeah, I had to go to the store. I needed milk, bread, toothpaste, dish soap (the list goes on and on ). Then "And what else was it?" LONG pause. "Oh yeah, mayo...." Really??!! What kind was it?! Hellmann's you say?! We normally use Kraft, but if you prefer Hellmann's we'll be sure to try it next time!!
One time I was taking her little girl and another one from the neighborhood with us to the YMCA pool (yippee), and she told me that the other girl was "part mexican, ya know" and she had gone to the beach with her family this weekend and they "loaded her with sunblock" because they didn't want her to get "any darker than she was already was." Newsflash, sunblock doesn't keep you from tanning, just burning. Of course, I didn't say that, or ANYTHING for that matter (except "mmm" "mmmhmmm" "Oohhh" or "okay") because I didn't want to encourage her.
My favorite encounter with her was another time when I stopped at her house to pick up the girls to come to the pool with us. She was wearing this cottony, pink, sleeveless dress thing that LOOKED like something one would wear over her suit to go swimming somewhere, and I was thinking "Pleeeassee, don't tell me she decided to come with." She didn't, and as I got closer it was apparent she wasn't wearing anything UNDER it, at least not on the upper half of her body. I was already pretty nauseated from this obvious discovery, when she proceeded to tell me she had a Dr.'s appt to check out some "sores on her back" that she "can't get to heal." She ran through the list of ointments she'd tried and went on about how itchy and uncomfortable they were. "Mmmmm. ooohhh. Mmmhmmm." I said. I was thinking "Is she really giving me the low down on the festering boils oozing on her back?" Who TELLS people they don't know REALLY well things like that??!! The next time I check out somewhere, like Walmart or Kroger, I'm gonna be like "Yeah, next time I come in, I think I'm finally gonna have to break down and get some Monistat. I have this raging, burning itch down there that I just can't seem to get rid of! I've tried cold compresses and baby powder but it's still on fire! I can't even wear underwear! See?!"
THEN, my next door neighbor was talking to me across our yards (we had both followed kids out to the ice cream truck) about how she had quit smoking 17 weeks ago, and she used to run all the time back in the day, and she was trying to get started again, and when did I run? AAHHHHHH!!! Running is my me time, alright? I don't stop, and I have my Ipod full blast, so I'm not interested in taking frequent walk breaks involving chatting with someone I barely know. I told her reaallly early, like 5:30 a.m. So she asks when I walk our dogs, and I was like "Usually after 7 in the evening on the days that I take them." And she says "If I see you maybe I'll hitch a ride with ya." AAHHHHHH!! "Sounds great." I exclaim. So now I have to go a different way so my neighbor doesn't spot us out of her window on our way out, only on our way in. What??!! You know if I was like "Um, I really appreciate you thinking of me, but I prefer to be alone when I run and walk the dogs."she'd be like "Oh sure! I understand!" then stomp away mumbling "Stuck up bitch."
What I think is funny is that she saw me at a gas station one time and she was like "Hey! How are you?" And I was like "umm, fine. And you?..." She goes "I'm your neighbor. From next door." "Right! How's it going?" I have never actually talked to her up close before, just a few times across the yard, so I didn't recognize her. I don't know how the hell she knew who I was, truth be told.
This is random but there was a middle aged WT (white trash) lady at the pool last week, wearing one of those one piece suits with a built in skirt, and a pair of white sweat socks. In the pool. I noticed them when she was standing beside the pool after just having gotten out, with a big puddle surrounding each soggy foot. Cuurrazzie.
SO. My sister is shopping with my nephew (5) and my niece (3) by herself the other day. Unfortunately, it's Aunt Flo's time of the month to visit, and it's the day when she's a REAL bitch. So my sister had no choice but to take them into the stall with her while she took care of business. To appreciate this story, you have to know that my nephew stutters when he gets all worked up. He also gets increasingly louder while he does it. Also, as with most kids, he tends to exaggerate and be melodramatic. For example, if my sister decides he's had enough Super Mario (he gets to play everyday) and makes him take a break, he'll say "But I NEVER get to play Super Mario!"
So, with four little eyes fixed on her, she does what she went in there to do. "Eeeeewwww!" they begin immediately. "Shhhhhhh!" she tells them. "But mama! But Mama! But MAMA! BUT MAMA!" my nephew chants. "SSHHHH! Don't say anything!" my sister pleads. "BUT MAMA!" my nephew shouts. "WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS PULLING DISGUSTING THINGS OUT OF YOUR BUTT?!" Hahahaha!!! She said she was pretty sure there was no one else in there, which seems like a real shame. If I had been a stranger overhearing the exchange, I definitely would've still blogged it.
I've had several dreams in my day that center around the fact that I have to pee. I know this is because I do actually have to pee, but I'm asleep and unable to wake up for whatever reason, so my subconscious creates a frustrating world where I am desperately trying to find somewhere to take a leak but I never have any luck. If I ever in fact finally find a place, my plan to evacuate my aching bladder is always foiled, and I end up back on my relief mission.
Last week, I had a similar dream, only in this one I had to poop. I have never had a "need to poop" dream before, because I've never actually had to take a dump while I was sleeping. And this was no exception, I didn't wake up from it and have to go straight to the can to drop a load or anything. Anyway, after what seemed like hours of frantic searching, I was excited to finally find a porcelain throne. But just like my urination never comes to be, my plan to pinch one came to end when I discovered a HUGE turd already occupying the toilet. There was no way that sucker was flushing down, it was the size of a fireplace log. It also had Lucky Charm marshmallows embedded in it. Yellow stars, blue diamonds, purple horseshoes...interpretations welcome.