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Sometimes one of the dogs will twitch in their sleep, and it is pretty cute. Tootie sometimes acts like she is running, and that is just precious. Cooper will sigh like a cow, or more like one of those toys at Cracker Barrel that has cartoon cows painted on it, and when you turn it upside down, it sounds like depressed bagpipes, and when he does that, Brittney gets tickled, and I do too. Tootie will abruptly do her "chicken bark" from out of nowhere, and that cracks me up.
But just now, Tootie was asleep in the airchair, with her head on the arm. She snored about three times, and it was pretty funny. Then she was chasing something in her dream, and she was bouncing her heard like she was sprinting, and then she bonked her head on the arm of the chair, and Brittney thought that was hilarious. Then one of her eyes slid halfway open, and you could see the red scary part of the inside of the corner of her eye, and just a little slit of an iris. Then her feet started twitching, not like she was running, but like she was conducting or dancing or something. And then her lips started quivering like she was about to start talking, and her eyes were darting around from what was probably R.E.M. sleep, but at the time appeared to be due to her being possessed by something evil. I told Brittney that I though it was real creepy. And then Tootie turned the creepy up a notch, maing a weird grunting noise, and I'd had enough. I tried yelling at her to get her to wake up, but she wasn't hearing it. I was afraid of my dog's nightmare. I had to wake her up if I were to ever trust her again.
Tootie, I'm sorry I woke you up, but that shit was creeping me out, and it's not like you don't owe me a million times for waking we up with your chicken bark. Sleep well, bad girl.
Those of us in the South are often portrayed in the popular media as being more ignorant or stupid than the rest of the nation. Thanks for dispelling that stereotype by doing this stupid crap.
The most unfortunate quote regarding the shootings this week, from Buddy Peaster, MTSU's campus police chief:
From an interview on WPLN.“It’s necessary to look at notification of people on campus as needing a shotgun approach, and what I mean by that is a variety of ways. Email is great, but it’s not the only thing we try to employ.”
There is a really good article in today's NYTMagazine about dog shelters.
With the help of a broad array of specialists, including human and dog psychologists, animal behaviorists and ethologists, local veterinarians and dog trainers, even dog-minded architects, shelters like Town Lake are now rethinking the whole phenomenon of abandoned pets: from the behavioral dysfunctions (human and animal) that lead to dog relinquishment; to the experience and expectations of potential adopters; to developing new design features in shelters that reduce the stress and depression of the animals there and, in turn, lure more people to come and consider them for adoption. The animal shelter, a place long consigned to being a lost pet’s last, is fast becoming among the most likely places to find a lasting pet.
Brittney: don't read this.
Not as good as Drivin' and Cryin'. My allergies have been hideous. I've been pretty miserable lately, spending very little time outside, even overdosing on Wal-itin. And now, just in time for zombie-jesus day and the celebration of spring and already four weeks into mowing season, it is 37 mother effing degrees outside so that when I go outside, my eyes water from the pollen and then they freeze. So, of course, I bought a bike:
I won it on ebay with a last second bid this morning. I arranged to meet the guy and swap cash for wheels and he told me to meet him at the Taco Bell on Gallatin. I didn't think he meant the one right near my house, since that's far from where he lives. I tried looking on the Internet to see if there were more than one Taco Bell on Gallatin, and sho'nuf, there are three. So I went to the one nearest where he lives, since that's what I'd offered. I got there after stopping at the ATM, and then waited for him to show up. He didn't show, so I called him. Turns out he was at the FOURTH Taco Bell on Gallatin Road, so we met at the Waffle House in between.
I got it home, put pedals on it, pumped up the tires, and rode it for about 30 feet under the canopy of hickory trees and icicles before my eyes were swollen and frozen shut. I will ride that bike one day. Not today. Or tomorrow.
As soon as the pollen dies down, I'm going to start biking again, and eventually ride to work. The mountain bike I bought in 1993 is officially too old. One of the shifters is broken, the brakes need replacing, the thing has been hit by two trucks, and I think it is a little bit too small. Also, it and the $50 Nishiki (also too small and old) have been in the rain ever since the shed was turned wrong side out in that windstorm.
I had my eye on a K2 on craigslist for about two weeks. When I finally made up my mind and contacted the seller, he had sold it one hour prior. ONE HOUR.
So now I am deciding between three bikes, two of which I don't even know the price of, as they are on ebay (but close enough to just go pick them up instead of shipping them):
- A vintage De Rosa, which was $2100 15 years ago
- A sweet TREK 2200 with nice wheels and a hard shipping case (to be sold) which was $1500 4 years ago
- An almost new midgrade Specialized Allez Sport that was $850 3 years ago
One auction ends thursday, and one on saturday. I hate ebay and auctions. I'm afraid to bid on both and end up winning both. I don't know strategy for bidding, but I've been bidding them up closer to my upper limit, hoping that if someone is going to outbid me, they'll go ahead and get it over with so I can cross that one off of my list.
I just watched Cooper and Tootie spend about 5 minutes trying to get to a snake that was hiding in a pile of sticks and a roll of wire fencing. Cooper is a better and more aggressive hunter. He sticks his nose under the roll of fencing, he tries to roll it around with his paw, he barks at the snake when it won't come out. When the snake gets under the sticks, Cooper gets even more excited, and pops a wheelie, then comes crashing down with both paws to get a better angle on the snake. He manipulates his environment. What is weird is that once the snake has been flushed out into the open, he looks at it for about 10 seconds and starts looking in the pile of sticks, hoping to find another snake. When that fails, he gets bored and moves to another part of the yard to bark at crows.
Tootie does not take the lead in the hunt. When Cooper is nosing around trying to get at the snake, Tootie is the one who goes around to the other side to make sure it doesn't escape. Which it does. When the snake is on the move, she just sort of pussyfoots at it, with more curiosity than aggression. If she gets even a little bit in Cooper's way, he snaps at her and she backs off. She seems only mildly interested in the hunt, but both times I've watched them do this, Tootie is the one who finally gets the snake. She grabs it in her mouth and shakes it, then throws it aside and stands over it. This is when Cooper loses interest.
At this point, I'm a little concerned about the snake, and while it is funny to watch the dogs freak out, I don't want to watch either of them get bitten in the eye, and as I'm eating a sammich, I don't want to see snake guts ripped asunder either. I also don't want Tootie to fling a pissed off snake at my feet. The snake, once caught and dropped, curls up in a wad with the head at the bottom, and flicks its tail around a little. Even though it is moving, it isn't going anywhere, and that is evidently what the dogs found to be objectionable. Last time, Cooper got bored quickly, and Tootie watched closely for a few minutes, not touching the snake again, but watching intently before trotting off. Today however, Tootie watched the snake twitch for a few seconds, and then used her finishing move. That little fatty reared up on her hind legs, then brought the full weight of her cheese-enhanced shoulder down onto the snake like a pro wrestler, then got on her back and scrubbed around. I don't know her intent, but she was either trying to suffocate the snake, to scratch her own back, or get the snake to pet her. Flopping around like a fish out of water. Like a pig in mud. Like a Tootie on a snake.
Anthony Bourdain writes about the current state of the Food Network:
RACHAEL: Complain all you want. It’s like railing against the pounding surf. She only grows stronger and more powerful. Her ear-shattering tones louder and louder. We KNOW she can’t cook. She shrewdly tells us so. So...what is she selling us? Really? She’s selling us satisfaction, the smug reassurance that mediocrity is quite enough. She’s a friendly, familiar face who appears regularly on our screens to tell us that “Even your dumb, lazy ass can cook this!” Wallowing in your own crapulence on your Cheeto-littered couch you watch her and think, “Hell…I could do that. I ain’t gonna…but I could--if I wanted! Now where’s my damn jug a Diet Pepsi?” Where the saintly Julia Child sought to raise expectations, to enlighten us, make us better--teach us--and in fact, did, Rachael uses her strange and terrible powers to narcotize her public with her hypnotic mantra of Yummo and Evoo and Sammys. “You’re doing just fine. You don’t even have to chop an onion--you can buy it already chopped. Aspire to nothing…Just sit there. Have another Triscuit…Sleep….sleep….”
