The oddest part of this to me is that, although the little pups in this contest have been molded to look strangely similar to other things, they all are very clearly still poodles. There is no question in my mind (and I assume yours) that these are poodles. Very, very often people ask me, “what kind of dog is that”, or “that’s a cute dog, what is it”, or “I’ve never seen one of those..”. The prince is a poodle, I just choose not to groom him like an idiot. His coat is kept mildly shaggy with no particular shape. That’s it. He’s poodle au naturale. See some examples of the cuddly cuteness below:
Poor poodles. They get such a bad rap. I found this grooming contest interesting/entertaining/perplexing/engaging, but this is why nobody knows what the heck the prince is! Because he doesn’t look like a little idiot all the time! I’m mad at everyone who does humiliating things to poodles. The prince is mad too. We are pouting.
Friday night my manfriend and I went on a romantical date. You know the kind where you’re going to a restaurant to chat as the evening’s event? Not the kind where you’re just slamming a meal in the space near each other, which happens with young professionals on the go such as we are. It was fabulous, It made me remember that he's so fabulous (Sorry, had to go there).
Saturday, after a rigorous workout and gourmet breakfast (which I made myself just for fun), we set out to find manfriend and his roommate (see throwback photo of the rooomies/BFFS at right) an apartment. The realtor/apartment pimp we were working with was a very large gentleman who was an avid smoker and freakishly sweaty. Every realtor-type person I’ve worked with has some weird thing going on, so this was to be expected. It was a scalding August day in Texas, but this man was like really pouring. He was a nice and helpful man, but lordy did he gross me out. We ended up finding the boys a nice brand new never-been lived in place that met his requirement of “not being too far away from stuff but not too uptown-y”. I cannot wait for him to move into his own place. The current living situation (at his parents’ house) is a bit stale. VICTORY!
Sunday: On another moving-related subject….The Henry’s rallied in Fort Worth this weekend to move the nugget into her very own little dorm room. Thats her building. Walking into the dorm with “Good Luck at College” treats in tow, I couldn’t help but be flooded with pure and total jealousy. I know I should be happy/excited for this turning point in her little life, but I was seething with resentment about having to work, pay my own bills, not party everyday (although I was still high with the revelation that maybe I need to get over that…complicated feeling), etc. Only the girls participating in sorority rush were moving in early with her and it was a hotspot of freshly touched up roots, giggles, monogrammed suitcases, mothers’ breakdowns and acrylic nails. It was amazing. I guess I’m on the cusp of my own fresh adventure in life with this new Dallas thing and all, but the air was literally thick with new beginnings. Lucky little nugget.
Great weekend. Everyone is moving but me and I’m actually happy to be the settled in for the time being. Weird.
Today my go-to man for cultural tidbits (one of the few people who suggest I read things and I actually do it) sent me a little article from NYMag on how to properly tell jokes about the recession. I’m annoyed that we are to the point in the economic crisis that jokesters are having a legitimate discourse about the dos and don’ts. Comedians, who, in my opinion, are some of the most respectable creators of organic original thought are in on it too. Oh Come on.I’m just so over it. I’ve gotten really used to not having any money, so 2009 feels pretty normal to me. Perhaps this is the root of my irritation with the never-ending stream of commentary on the economy these days, but I’m ready for some good news, or at least a new topic. I just wish rich people would just get used to the idea of living like the rest of us so we could talk about something else.
On the outside, I hate words like “Recessionista”, (or “Brangelina” or“Bromance”), but on the inside I’m really just jealous I didn’t make it up. I think I am a Recessionista, except that its all the time. Most of my near and dear know that you can be a fierce and fabulous female on a budget. When you’re in a carwreck and ruin your whole outfit with coffee stains it’s not that big of a deal. (“Whatever, the top was from Target anyway. Guess I can pick up another one.”) And it’s nice when, possibly in a moment of mental “cloudiness”, you lose/misplace your entire purse and can just bounce right back. There are other personality factors at work there, but being poor sure helps on your ability to learn how to “bounce.” There’s two bonuses right there!
My hope for the economic problem is that people would just get a little optimistic about the whole thing, or at least think about the more serious problems of the world. For heavens sake, Jessica Simpson is losing weight again! And a possible romance between R-Patz and K-Stew?!??! Call me small minded if you will, you think about that crap too (…validate me, please.).
Come on world! Look at the bright side! There haven’t been any hurricanes yet this year!
Everything you’ve read about Volvos being safe is true. We were in a Volvo S40 at the time of this incident. It was still scary, but it genuinely felt like the big truck just bounced right off of us. The Volvo sustained some cosmetic damage, but the front of the truck got way crumpled. See below. I’m takin’ my Volvo message to the streets. Buy a Volvo. You’ll feel highbrow and you’ll live through a car accident to enjoy it. Thank goodness my manfriend just acquired one. Note: These are the ACTUAL photos taken at the scene of the crash. Totally Ridic.
I'll take this moment to go on a selfish diatribe. Whilst my friend’s car was getting slammed, I got totally doused in piping hot coffee. I cannot explain how covered in the stuff I was. Pants, hair, shirt, face, in the ears….everything was covered in hazlenutty deliciousness. There is some mild scalding on my chest and one side of my face. I guess that’s the most serious injury. I remember that old McDonald’s coffee lawsuit where a lady burned her mouth and got millions of dollars. TRY TAKING A BATH IN THE STUFF LADY! The silver lining is that it brought my friend who got in a car wreck immeasurable laughter. I stepped out of the car and the two men in the guilty truck even laughed. Awesome. We had to go back to my apartment to change, thereby being even later to work. Awesome-er. Even six hours later I’m still covered in a sticky hazlenutty film. Awesome-est.
Glad nobody was hurt, but one stiff back and nutty film later, I’m still annoyed. Ready for a new day.
At work I got slammed with a ridiculous task. I work at a consulting firm and one of our clients asked us to manage/update/revise/redesign their HR website, which presently is totally disorganized and out-of-date, not to mention extremely large. Sounds great. We employ a bevy of programmers and software engineers...this should be no problemo. BUT, the higher ups decide to assign none other than ME to be in charge of this project. Como se WHAT?!?!?!
As a preface...I am so computer illiterate that it embarasses me as a member of my generation. Oh I email, facebook, tweet, whatever...but frankly when I sit down and try to wrap my brain around the internet as a whole I get a migraine. Its similar to how I feel about space. I wish we still used computers like this one sometimes. I don't even have a cell phone with the internet on it. I'm probably the least qualified person in the office to do this. I'm irritated, daunted, scared and nauseous (but that could've been due to the starburst I ate for lunch).
They pair me up with what I'll call "a computer person" to train me on web editing and show me the ropes for how to re-make a website. Probably goes without saying that this person and I are dissimilar, to put it lightly. He patiently directed me to the requisite "internet for dummies" kind of things and was sweet when I asked how to download the training manuals to my desktop. Apparently he wasn't aware what a blank canvas I really am. Joke's on him. He set me up a fake site called the "sandbox" site, so I could play around in it. I of course had to ask him why he named it sandbox...he didn't laugh. After some playing around and some practice tasks....I GOT IT! I'm no expert, but dammit I can make internet! I got a few little practice things done correctly and it was like AWESOME. This sort-of-mastery of my little job, which I expected to fail at, has been one of the most satisfying thing I've done in a while. Soon I'll be a full-fledged robot. Hot damn. Call me for web-editing. I'll be an extraordinairress in no time at all.
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