two dolla

Team Boobylicious hit a couple of big goals this afternoon. We hit our original goal of 12 team members, so we did what any good co-captains would do. We set a new goal of 15 team members.

And even more exciting feat? We crossed over the $20,000 mark on donations. Un-freaking-believable. Our team goal of $30,000 is absolutely attainable. My personal goal of $2500 is also definitely in reach.

Of course I could come up with a whole list of things of why this year’s 3 Day is making me so proud, but the main one now? Our team has managed to recruit nine more people to help raise money and awareness in the fight against breast cancer.

Jenni and I are going to try to recruit even more people next Saturday. We’re volunteering at the next 3 Day Expo.

When I think about how much work I’ve put into fundraising, training, and spreading the word about the walk and why I’m walking, I really feel like this is the most important thing in my life right now. It fills me with pride and happiness and dignity and nobility. Who knew charity could be so self-fulfilling?
(You people would be so proud if you knew how hard it was for me to make this post without sharing any of the negativity that some of our team members bring to each and every event.)

It’s pretty regular for me to think of names that I could have christened my dog with, but each time I look at him, I don’t think he could be called anything other than Little Riley Fancy Pants. Or Pantsy. Dare I tell you all that Clay was one of the names in the running? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Speaking of American Idol…
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• It’s 74⁰ right now and I’m sweating. I’m screwed when I go to Missouri this weekend, where it’s supposed to be up in the 90s.
• American Idol? Should go to Taylor. Kat sounded not so good. I tried voting. A lot. But I never got through.
• I’m back to easily benching 85lbs. This may not seem like a lot, but it will be when I punch you in the face.
• I have an appointment in an hour for the awesome plantar fasciitis that’s back in action. I’m asking for a steroid shot, because I love me some ‘roid rage.
• When I called to make an appointment to have my plantar fasciitis looked at, the appointment scheduling person didn’t know how to spell plantar fasciitis. So, instead, she just wrote “foot pain”. Cute.
• I’m supposed to be making a website for our class reunion. Ask me how far I’ve gotten. Wait. Don’t.
• 2 hour season finale of Lost tonight. Once The Apprentice is over, there’s nothing but baseball for me to watch all summer. That sounds awesome.

Whose gay dog passed his first round of obedience class tonight? Why, that’d be mine. $80 later, my dog can do absolutely nothing he didn’t know before… but that’s okay. Not the point, right?

I actually have a goal for Little Riley Fancy Pants. And it’s this - the AKC’s Canine Good Citizen Program (CGC, for short). There’s a CGC test that dogs must pass before earning the title of an actual Canine Good Citizen. The test items are as follows:

• Accepting a friendly stranger.
• Sitting politely for petting.
• Appearance and grooming.
• Out for a walk (walking on a loose lead).
• Walking through a crowd.
• Sit and down on command and staying in place.
• Coming when called.
• Reaction to another dog.
• Reaction to distraction.
• Supervised separation.

So, yeah. Someone named Riley has his work completely cut out for him, especially considered he’s only got about three of those even close to being mastered.

And in case you thought it was mean, everyone else in his class thought the hula skirt idea was adorable. And because of the hula skirt, and my dog’s comfort level with wearing clothes, he didn’t have any problem at all when they put the graduation hat on him for pictures. I forgot my damn memory card, like an awesome pet-owner, but Roxie’s (the only dog that never tried to jump on Riley) mom took a picture for me and is going to email it to me. Sometime.

I mentioned Gretchen earlier tonight. She and her idiot owner(s) live in #119 (or maybe #103, because I don’t really know which way the numbers run in my building). I hadn’t ever really seen the owner(s) until tonight and now things kind of make sense… but I digress.

Gretchen doesn’t get walked. She gets kicked off the deck until she shits all over and then she can come back inside. Fortunately, she’s a little dog, so the shit is usually little. But it’s not little enough for me not to step in it.

The rest of us make the trek outside multiple times a day, often in our pajamas, waiting for our fat dogs to shit massive piles of steaming feces. And then we pick up these steaming piles with a cute little baggie (mine are pink) and throw it away. But what happens?

We all get nasty letters sent to us from the front office saying those of us with dogs need to clean up after our dogs. I must have missed the line that excludes Gretchen and her lazy owner(s) and makes it a-okay for tiny dog shit to start building up right outside my deck.

I shall use these pictures as evidence! You never know when this might go all the way to a court of law!
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Watch me whine real quick.

I bought new shoes a couple of months ago. It was, to make an extremely long story short, a huge ordeal and I ended up ordering them online. I know it’s my own fault for ordering shoes without trying them on first, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I haven’t been 100% happy with those shoes, and to walk 60 miles in a pair of shoes, I better be extra happy.

Yesterday during the six-mile AIDSWalk, I wore a different pair of shoes. And then the day before that, I went to the zoo, and carried a 4-year-old on my shoulders for quite some time. The end result? Some lower back pain. It’s nothing new; it’d just kept dormant for a while. Maybe like nine months or even more. I was happy.

The 3 Day walk has turned me into something I never thought I’d be. Conscientious and magnanimous about my body’s needs and demands. While two years ago, I would have assumed a sore back meant I should be a lazy ass and just watch TV all night long with a pint of ice cream resting happily on my boobs, I now know it means I should go to the gym and work the rest of my muscles, while doing some stretching for the lower part of my back.

And when I get back, I will show you incriminating photos of the little whore dog Gretchen that lives five apartments down from mine and shits all over the place. Gretchen’s whore owners don’t do anything about her little shit piles either, which results in nasty notes from the apartment complex about all dog owners.

There was the zoo, a fundraising Booby-Q with a Hawaiian theme, a charity walk, Pizza Luce, riding the train, and not enough sleep.

Good news? My dog likes wearing grass skirts and leis.

Booby-Q pictures here.

AIDSWalk pictures here.

Little Gay Riley Pants and I just spent 1.5 hours at the vet to learn that he had 2 mites. He’s on medication now for the next 45 days. He also had a secondary yeast infection on both his back paws. Don’t worry. If it wasn’t my dog, I’d make a douche joke, too.

1. Drop It Like It’s Hot - Snoop Dogg & Pharrell Williams (FYI: this is also my cell phone ring)
2. That’s What I Like About You - The Ramones
3. Crazy Iin Love - Beyonce & Jay-Z
4. Come Get To This - Marvin Gaye
5. I Feel You - Depeche Mode
6. Power Lunch - Har Mar Superstar
7. Everyday Love - Rascal Flatts
8. OPP - Naughty by Nature
9. Mother and Father - Madonna
10. Sing Me Home - Tim McGraw

This is pretty much the lamest shuffle ever.

Now I’ll go put 0.7 ounces of cherry-flavored Ivermectin in a syringe and trick my dog into thinking it’s good. And after that, I’ll drink my first Leinenkugel’s Berry Weiss of the year.

As a youngster, I used to have all of my birthday parties at my grandparents’ house. We’d have a fire and roast hot dogs and marshmallows, play games for probably the lamest prizes ever, and open up presents. You know, like most kids do.

I’ve decided that I know what I need for my kids when they have these types of parties. Oh hell, I’ve decided what I need the next time I roast hot dogs over any type of an open flame.

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