Archive for June, 2007

The Dog Count, Part 1

dog bowl
When I was three, our neighbors gave us two black lab puppies. Being a three-year-old, I was not involved in the naming process, which was probably a sound parental decision (more on that later). Our dogs Bo and Shannon, were playful, energetic pups who liked to scare the living bejeezus out of me on a regular basis. Their favorite game was “Dance with ameliebee”. The rules were simple. Bo put his front paws on my shoulders from the back while Shannon did the same from the front. Then they would dance me around the yard, to the tune of my screaming and crying. And after my mom would rescue me, being the glutton for torture than I am, I would promptly turn around and go back outside. I was a little slow as a kid. Humans: 3, Dogs: 2

A year or so later, after we had moved to the lake, Shannon had puppies in the middle of a blizzard. Sadly, because it was so cold and because she chose to go into labor in the middle of the night with no warning to her human companions, only one of the puppies survived. Once again, I was not consulted in the naming of the puppy. My dad named him Greystoke, and if you catch that literary reference, I owe you a cookie. Humans: 3, Dogs: 3

We had to move back into town for a while and lived in an apartment with the tiniest fenced-in back yard. Moving to a tiny-ass piece of grass from being able to roam the woods on a daily basis was hard for the dogs, especially Grey. He escaped more than once and was tracked down by the cops at various liquor stores and high school football games. What can I say? I live in Mississippi.

When we were able to move back to the lake, Grey ran off for good. Shortly thereafter, Shannon was hit by a car on the highway and died. The day my dad found her on the side of the road was a sad day. Bo was the only one to keep on keepin’ on. Humans: 3, Dogs: 1

One of my mother’s students heard about our loss of dogs, and decided to give us a puppy from his dog. Who got to name the dog? Yeah, that would not be ameliebee. This black lab was named Cosmos (you know, black like the cosmos? I grew up with a nerd for a father. Deal with it). Later, we were begged to take on another puppy from Cosmos’ litter when her owners had to move. She was already named Samba. Humans: 3, Dogs: 3

We were later given another puppy, this one a mutt of the fiest-Jack Russell Terrier kind. And guess who got to name her? Finally, it was my turn. No more weird names that meant nothing to me. What name did I choose, on this, my first time naming a dog? You really want to know? You really want to know? Fine. I named her Whiskey. Shut up. Humans: 3, Dogs: 4

This was the final count for many years. Find out what happened next in part 2.

June 27, 2007 at 2:48 pm 2 comments

Myths about “growing up.” And thoughts about growing up in general.

Remember when you were sick of college or high school and wanted to graduate?  I think I would happily go back to college again.  I took art classes.  LOVED my art classes.  I really kind of miss my art classes.  I guess I’m a dork, because I actually didn’t really mind going to class all that much.  I would definitely take college over a real job any day.  Plus, who wouldn’t want their summers off?!  The real world kind of sucks, and anyone that tells you otherwise is a lying bitch!  Sure, it’s nice to have steady income, but having a steady income doesn’t necessarily mean you’re no longer broke.  And dealing with insurance is the biggest pain in the ass you could ever possibly imagine. 

 Remember when you were in high school and you always had zits?  I remember thinking that when I turned 18, I would officially be an “adult,” and my zits would magically dissappear.  Not so.  Whoever gave teenagers the impression that zits would fade when they got older is a dirty bitch.  I think the occasional zit is here to stay. 

 Oh!  And remember that hot guy that was in your class in high school?  That guy that everyone had a crush on?  Yeah, he works at a liquor store/gas station/etc. now.  Not so hot anymore.  And your yearly salary is twice the amount of his.  I guess hotness doesn’t get you everywhere.    And I admit that I kind of love this, because that hot guy was kind of an asshole. 

During my senior year of high school, my English teacher kept telling my class that we weren’t ready for college yet, that we were going to have to write REALLY hard term papers, that were like, 50 pages long.  So to prepare us, she made us write a 20 page term paper.  And she was brutal when it came to grading it.  That woman LIED!  I was more prepared for college than most people I was in class with during my freshman year.  The hardest paper I had to write in college?  Oh, it was only about 8 pages, and it was a piece of cake.  And when we proof read eachother’s papers?  There are a few people out there that must have graduated high school by the skin of their teeth, because there was some BAD writing in my college English classes.  How do you get that far without knowing the difference between “than” and “then”???  (I admit that is one of my biggest peeves.  I had trouble with that in the freaking 3rd grade.  It’s not hard!  You should learn the difference between those two words in grade school!)  And why didn’t people learn what a run-on sentence was?  These papers were more difficult to read than Faulkner!  Ameliebee is even more of a grammatical nut than I am (much more so, actually), so I can’t imagine how many times she cringed while reading someone’s paper in class.  Hee. 

 Anyway, all in all, going from being 18to being 25 hasn’t seemed like much of a big deal.  Yeah, I’ve learned more, and I’m slightly more mature, but I don’t think I’m all that different.  How old are you when you officially start to feel like an adult?! 

June 26, 2007 at 6:54 pm 1 comment

Friday’s Photo (on Saturday)

kegger and I want to share some of our favorite photos with you. I enjoy photographing flowers, so you’ll probably be seeing several flower photos. This week’s photo is one I took a while ago. I don’t remember what it is, so if you know, feel free to comment. I think it’s a mum of some sort, but I’m probably wrong about that. Anyway, enjoy our first every Friday photo posted on Saturday.

Peachy Flower

June 24, 2007 at 1:41 am 2 comments

Everybody poops.

I have always wondered why the discussion ofpoo.jpg bodily functions got to be such a taboo topic, seeing as to we all have the same bodily functions, more or less.  How did it get to be such an odd topic?  If we all do it, what’s the big deal? 

Public Poops  

There’s just something about pooping in public that’s just… unpleasant.  That’s not something you want to do around other people.  Remember life in the dorm room?  My freshman year, after the first few weeks, there was one particular stall in the very back of the bathroom that unofficially became designated the “poop” stall.  If someone was in that stall, you knew they were pooping.  You didn’t go into that stall if you didn’t have to poop.  Peeing was reserved for the front stalls.  The back stall also happened to be the darkest stall (the toilet area of the bathroom wasn’t very well lit, anyway.)  Maybe that is one reason why people preferred it.  When someone else came into the bathroom while the pooper was mid-poop, the pooper would freeze, and just kind of be quiet and invisible until the other person left.  I think it’s that way it is with any public poop, though.  You try to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible, and you try to get your poops out during toilet flushes, or while the hand blow dryer-thingie is running. 

 Guy Poops

I always thought that most men weren’t as bashful about pooping as girls were.  I think I might have been wrong about that.  Well, either that, or my husband is a little bit odd. 

I’m a kind of blunt person, and I’m not very tactful sometimes, I admit.  Seeing as how we’ve almost been married for two years, I don’t think pooping is that big of a deal anymore.  I don’t bother  locking the door when I poop, I just close it.  He knows that if the door is closed, he shouldn’t go in there.  However, he STILL locks the door when he poops.  AND he turns the sink faucet on and runs the water while he poops.  (He’s never admitted it, but I highly suspect this is to drown out the sound of pooping.)  I’ve never seen a guy so strange when it comes to pooping, I thought they were open and… gross about it, but I guess maybe I was wrong. 

Getting married taught me a lot about guys that I had no clue about before.  For example, all of my husband’s family (the males, anyway)–his brother, his dad, his grandfather, etc.–ALL use baby wipes to wipe their asses with after a poop.  I had never heard of this before.  Why not just use toilet paper?!?  Now that I’ve gotten used to it, it DOES make sense–I do think that it probably cleans better than dry tissue paper, but still.  I’d never seen that before.  I mentioned this to my mom after I got married, and I learned that my stepdad also has strange wiping habits after he poops, although they are different habits.  He wets his tissue paper with alcohol.  What?!?!?  WHY?!  That seems even odder to me. 

So, are baby wipes and alcohol normal for guys?  Was I just uninformed? 

Stinky Poops

This guy that I used to work with, we’ll call him Fred, used to have the STINKIEST poops in the history of the universe.  Matches, candles, and air freshener could NOT get rid of his stench.  We would open the doors, put a fan in the bathroom, and it would still smell like asshole in there.  His poops lasted  And he pooped like clockwork every day at around 10:00.  I have to say, I felt bad for the guy, because he was kind of a social outcast, anyway (he also didn’t cut his fingernails.  Which was just gross.)  but still, he didn’t make life any better for himself because he pooped so openly in public.  It would have been one thing if he didn’t have the stinkiest poops in the history of the universe, but he DID.  If I were him, I would at least have driven to a gas station or something where no one knew me or something.  He also had the tendency to poot all day long, so his cubicle was quite stinky.  But what I want to know is, WHY were his poops so stinky?  They were in a different league with any other poop I’ve ever had the misfortune of smelling.  Why?!  What makes one person’s poops capable of knocking someone out, and another person’s no big deal? 

June 22, 2007 at 1:55 pm 1 comment

Blasts of Cold Air and Icy Treats

Push-up popIt’s summer in Mississippi, which means one thing: it’s hotter than the armpits of hell. Summer is the time of the year when I become jealous of polar bears and ice fishermen. Since I’m not a polar bear, I don’t live anywhere near a polar ice cap, and I’d probably fall in if I ever went ice fishing, here’s how I stay cool in the miserable heat of summer.
Air Conditioning

When my mother was a girl, she would visit her grandmother in Vicksburg, Miss., every summer. My great-grandmother did not have air conditioning, and she would not let the overhead fans run at night. I can’t even imagine living like this. Sprinkle in a few spiders and you’ve got every nightmare I’ve ever had. Currently, I’m renting the upstairs of a two-story house with one air conditioner–on the first floor. If I didn’t have my overhead fan and my desk fan, I would melt like the Wicked Witch of the East every night. When they say hot air rises, they aren’t lying. I foresee a window unit in my future, because I won’t make it through this summer with fans alone.

One of the best things about being outside is walking into fully air conditioned, 65 degree building. Feeling that first rush of cold, dry air on your face never gets old. On really hot days, I like to find floor vents and act like Marilyn Monroe in the Seven Year Itch. Try it sometime and tell me it’s not as wonderful as it looks.

Standing in front of the open refrigerator

When the first blast of the air conditioner doesn’t provide enough chill, planting your face in the fridge is a perfectly acceptable alternative. I know this isn’t exactly the most PC thing to do. I know it wastes energy. I know that having a working air conditioner completely negates any reason for doing this. But ohmygod is it heavenly. I don’t recommend randomly open the fridge for the cold air. That would be wasteful.


Nothing says summer like frozen, colored, sugar water. The best of the best is Flav-R-Ice, the Kool-aid-sweet ice treats that come in plastic sleeves. My favorite flavors are pink and blue. I know pink and blue are colors and not flavors, but as much as I love Flav-R-Ice, I’ve never taken the time to figure out what the Flavs actually are. Purple tastes like cough syrup, red has a slight chemical aftertaste, and orange is just okay.

The Flintstones push-up pops are a close runner-up to the best of the best Popsicle award. Technically, these aren’t Popsicles. Technically, I don’t care. They are frozen and yummy orange sherbet treats that were the best part of elementary school lunches. Even when the cardboard tube would get soggy and gross, even when I got down to the plastic platform that pushed the pop up, I adored this summertime specialty.

Sweet tea

Cold? Check. Sweet? Check? Drinkable? Check. What’s not to love about sweet tea? Better than a cold beer on a hot day, sweet tea completes every barbecue, cookout, and potluck dinner. Fried anything without sweet tea is just not right. Sweet tea is not strictly a summer treat, but it’s so much more satisfying on a 100-degree day than it is on a 45-degree winter day.

Yeah. We don’t get very cold winters down here. But that’s for another day.

Frozen fruity drinks

As much as I love sweet tea, nothing beats a daiquiri, rum runner, frozen margarita, or key lime freeze. It has all the properties of sweet tea–cold, sweet, drinkable–with a little something extra: alcohol. You know what they say. It’s five o’clock somewhere.

These are not the healthiest ways to stay cool. I get that. This is just how I do it.

That’s what she said.

June 22, 2007 at 12:00 am 4 comments

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June 2007