Hey, guess who did everything on her Sunday-to-do-list? Yeah, me.
Tomorrow is May 1, as you probably know, but it’s also the day that I have to go to the gym 8 times a month in order to save $20/month through my health insurance on my gym membership. Why, yes, I do enjoy extra prepositional phrases.
Eight times a month is only twice a week, but of course knowing that I’m required to be there will be even more awesome than it is now when I just convince myself that I’m required to be there.
In April, I went to the gym 10 times. That’s actually disappointing! Instead of posting all of my workouts here, like I had been, I switched over to recording it on a special little Google Calendar. It’s cute that way and also easier for me to track.
You know, just in case you thought I was slacking in the workout department and all.
Would you mind emailing me over the plans to your ark? Fax would work, too, if it would be more convenient for you.
It has been raining for 48 straight hours here.
The pro? Awesome sleeping. Even for the mutt.
The con? We can’t go outside and play without both of us getting wet, and one of us smells really bad when we’ve been in the rain for a while.
My plans for the day? Watch my dog chew on his toys. Go grocery shopping. Go to the gym. Watch it rain.
I love days like this. I just don’t like entire weekends like this.
Riley Pants picked out his own toy at the store Thursday night, and from the looks of it, loves it very much.
The most recent picture of me ever, because I just took it tonight. I needed a new picture for my profile on MySpace!
Not everyone can have a Friday night as exciting as mine, and I hope you all can accept that.
The Twin Cities has apparently lost its sense of humor.
Each year, City Pages puts together a compilation of the Twin Cities “Best Of”.Â They pick the Cities’ best pizza, best radio show, best strip club, you name it. There was a little brouha with this year’s Best Cheap Thrill: crystal meth.
Attention Idiots: It was a joke.
The editor had to go in and explain to all of the crybabies that sent in complains via email or comments on the site that there’s a little thing called satire.Â And then came the apology.
I don’t read newspapers anymore, with the exception of The Sedalia Democrat’s obituaries, so you can imagine my disappointment when the one source of information I do count on to be a little edgy has to apologize for essentially crossing the line.
City Pages has ads in their weekly publication for pregnant strippers that will come to your house. A crack (no pun intended) about some ice surely isn’t the worst thing that’s ever been published.
It seems like I don’t get as much as time as I would like to collect my thoughts and share them with you in anything more than a list format. If one of you could add about two more hours in the day, then I could probably swing it!
- American Idol results from last night? Awesome. It was my most favorite results show to date, and now I don’t dread watching next week’s as much.
- What’s really annoying is that my fingernails get so dirty every day. I clean them and all, but I don’t even know how it happens. I quit playing in the dirty WEEKS ago.
- My dog was for sale last night. But we made up and now he’s off the market.
- Once again, I’m wicked behind on laundry. This seems to be a recurring instance in my life. I think the only solution to my laundry woes is an unlimited clothing budget. I would be much more content buying new polo shirts and khaki pants (I LOVE BUSINESS CASUAL!) every week as opposed to actually washing them.
- I missed Easter with the family and I’m also missing Mother’s Day this year. Memorial Day is the next scheduled trip to the homeland. The mode of transportation has yet to be decided, but I really wish Riley was one of those trained dogs that could ride on the airplane with me. It would make my decision a lot easier.
Last night, Little Riley Pants had his first night of puppy class. I’m sorry, that’s Better Dog I class.
Now, Riley knows his name and can sit, shake, lay down, jump, hug, and pee on the floor. He pretty much has all of those mastered in any order. But not with other new dogs around.
Our first cute was trick was to see if the dogs knew their name. I was a little nervous about this one, because I call him things like Douchebag, Dumbass, Asshole, and Puppy. Turns out he does know his name is Riley, but just chooses not to answer when there are other dogs within his sniffing distance.
We did sit, which Riley does via hand signal. We did lay down, which Riley also does via hand signal. In short, he knows how to do everything we went over in class last night. It’s just hard for him to focus when there are new dogs around that he would like to hump.
Bruno the 5-month old boxer was there and unbelievably adorable. As was his owner. It makes me sad that Riley wasn’t hanging around with me 24/7 at that age. Bruno was a biter and a jumper, though, so I feel really lucky that Riley never bites unless he’s seriously antagonized.
I guess my overall experience with Better Dog I was okay for the first night of mass puppy chaos. I was irritated that the trainer’s assistant kept watching me with my dog, like perhaps I was going to beat him with a cinder block like I always do at home when he doens’t listen to me the first time. (For those concerned, I’ve never beaten my dog with anything. Relax.) I’m hoping next week she can focus her attention on something that might be a little more productive to our class, like getting the dog in the corner to stop barking for the entire hour long class.
I know that since it’s getting closer to the grand finale I should be getting more and more excited about watching American Idol on Tuesday nights. It’s been the exact opposite, though. I think the theme nights are wearing thin on me, and it’s really put a damper on probably the last three weeks. I still watch it, mind you, but I just don’t get as excited as I have in past years.
In any case, I watched American Idol tonight after Riley’s obedience class, and, as always, formed my own smarmy opinions.
I was trying to find out what songs the Idol contestants were singing tonight, but instead, I ran into a bunch of other crap. I tell ya. The internet is AWESOME. You should definitely get it if you don’t have it yet!
Prince won’t be on American Idol anytime soon, which is kind of disappointing. I know Elliott was going to sing Pussy Control. He’s probably the only one left, besides Paris, that could pull of a Prince song. The thought of Taylor convulsing to Little Red Corvette or Pickler twanging to 1999 almost makes me throw up.
Media outlets all over are making note on Elliott’s improved appearance:
Meanwhile, the “Amish Leprechaun” as he was labeled elsewhere, is now sporting a fashionable goatee and has let his hair grow ever-so-slightly longer. Here’s a look back at highlights of the singer, his wardrobe, and his changing facial hair. [link]
An Amish Leprechaun? C’mon now. Is it really that bad?
With the contestants singing the great American
puke love songs tonight, I really don’t have any guesses on who’s singing what. I’ll just be so pleasantly and happily surprised.
My dog has a photo shoot in May. A real one.
Through his profile on Dogster.com, a local Twin Cities photographer found his pictures and sent me an email a couple of months ago. I just got around to reading/answering it.
She’s putting together a book of some of her best pet photographs. While she already has hundreds to choose from, she said she wanted to get a few more options, which is why she wants to throw Riley in the mix. If some of his turn out, then he’ll wind up in the book.
It’s free. I get a CD of some of the pictures she takes. And he gets the chance to be in a book. It’s a win-win-win situation.
And, yeah, it’s super hilarious in that extremely dorky, almost embarassing kind of way.
Yeah, I know this is all a little much and extremely overboard coming from a girl that was frightened for her life at dogs until about 9 months ago. I figure since I don’t have kids, this is my beauty pageant/dance recital/t-ball game stuff all rolled into one four-legged gay little puppy. And he doesn’t talk back.