If humans were more like dogsI love dogs and I always have.  In fact, my first word was “doggy,” which undoubtedly scared the crap out of my parents.  I can only imagine how worried they must have been when they heard me repeatedly utter “doggy,” all the while wondering if I was going to be an animal-lover or an animal OF a lover with a proclivity for that one favorite position.

Fortunately for everyone, it was the former.

Dogs have always been there for me over the years and they continue to do so.  They make the best companions, and not just because they don’t judge when you eat an entire pint of ice cream by yourself.  It’s also because you don’t have to share said ice cream with them.

But it’s not just their willingness to look the other way when it comes to dairy products that makes them our besties.  Dogs have many other qualities that make them both lovable and loyal.

Come to think of it, we could learn a lot from our canine companions.  From grooming techniques to greeting styles, maybe life wouldn’t be so bad if humans were more like dogs.  Here are a few reasons why.

We would be more easilyWe would be more easily entertained

We could readily cancel our cable and Netflix subscriptions, as there would be no need for constant access to television and video games anymore.  Gone would be the nights of watching Law and Order marathons.  Instead, “chasing my tail” and “catching my tail” would be at the top of the “to do” list.

Unfortunately, “catching my tail” would never find its way to the “completed” list.

 We would be more likely to hop into bed with anyone

Many dogs are snuggle sluts, hopping from one bed to the next looking for someone who is ready to snuggle and sleep.  Maybe it’s just my dogs, but I doubt it.  I like to think I’m raising my boys to be upstanding men who don’t hit it and quit it. True, my dogs can be slutty, but I think that’s just canines in general.  If there’s a bed with a breathing body in it, they’re going to jump in it and hope to get their snuggle on.

Come to think of it, I knew some girls in college who did exactly this…

-Catch my tail- (1)We would take a lot more naps

I’m not sure if we would tire more easily as canines or if we would just be more accepting of nap time, but either way, if we were more like dogs we would take far more naps.

We also wouldn’t be picky about where we curled up to snooze.  From the ground to the couch to the floor in the kitchen, we would all pay less attention to where we were sleeping and spend more attention focusing on getting those much-needed zzzzzs.

The term “up someone’s ass” would literally apply

Literally.  We would literally be up each other’s asses, or at least nose-deep in them.

We would be excited about everything that passed the house

From a car to a kid on a bike to a squirrel with an acorn, anyone passing by our house would evoke excitement.  We wouldn’t need television or books to keep us entertained, as the bouncing bunnies in the yard would keep us fixated for hours.  Any movement would incite incessant barking, even if we soon realized the moving item was not a threat to our home.

We wouldn’t try to avoid going to theWe would get a lot more exercise

If humans were more like dogs we would be much more focused on physical fitness.  (Or at least this human would be.)  We wouldn’t try to avoid going to the gym by complaining our spleen was tired or arguing that we need to give the workout machines a day off.  Instead, if we were more like dogs, walks would be required at least three times a day.

Running around in the yard with others would also be a staple as well, and it wouldn’t be only when we’re trying to escape that bitch of a wasp whose sole purpose in life is to sting us while in the presence of family and friends.

Instead, we would simply run and frolic for fun…a concept foreign to some of us.

We would take more pride in our oral hygiene

If instead of handshakes and hellos we switched to face licks and Toilet water mixed drinkslobbery kisses, humans would make brushing and flossing a top priority.  Although I tell my dentist that flossing is the first thing I do every morning, that’s not entirely true….it’s the first thing I do every morning I have a dentist appointment.  But hey, it’s a start.

We would drink less alcohol

Since our canine friends don’t drink alcohol, we would have no choice but to put away our mixed drinks in favor of toilet water.  Then again, “toilet water” sounds like an excellent name for a mixed drink.

I’m sure there are other ways the world would be different if humans were more like dogs, but I’ve run out of patience my attention span is so low.  Plus, it’s time to go potty outside and I’ve got to get back to chewing on table legs and licking my privates.

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Check out where else I’m on the web this week, because I’m on BUZZFEED!

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It’s Mother’s Day, which means Facebook feeds everywhere are filled with homages to moms.  Happy Mother’s Day to all of you moms out there, and Happy Mother’s Day to me too.

Okay, so I’m not a mother in the sense that I pushed kids out of my hoo ha, but I still think I’m a mother after all.

Granted, some people would agree I’m a mother, but would then add an unfortunate expletive after that.  Those people suck.  Duh.

Hoo-ha pushing or not, I’m a mother all year long.  No, not to human babies, although I swear I love them as much as if I’d delivered them myself.

Disturbing?  Absolutely.

True?  Totally.

Max in a tux with a smooch this pooch pillow

So how am I mother, you ask?  (Aside from the a-forementioned curse word?)  Here are a few reasons:

1.  I deal with poop all the time.

No, it isn’t in a diaper, but I have to pick it up with a plastic bag, so I’m still hurting the environment the same way.

The bad part is that unlike babies who (hopefully) grow out of needing moms to tend to their bowels, my dogs will never become sufficient at picking up their own poo (with anything other than their mouths).

2.  I take them to daycare

Yes, I’m that mom, and if you took your dog to daycare, you would know why we do.  Best money ever spent, and I don’t even have to pack a lunch for them!

Much like mothers of human babies, I also worry about what they’re learning at daycare.  I fear one day Shady Jack will come home and drop the f-bomb.  I know that guy is learning bad language from all the other pups, as it certainly wouldn’t come from my angel.

3.  I’m up at least twice during the night with them

From whimpering to peeing to running out of water, I’m up with them a few times a night when all I really want to do is sleep.  Matt and I take turns pretending to be asleep so we don’t have to get up.  We’re just like a real family!

Jack in rescued collar4.  One of them is always going to the doctor

From the sniffles to randomly being attacked by two dogs, one of them is always going to the doctor for something.  We haven’t had a pink eye outbreak yet, but I know it’s coming.  (No thanks to daycare.)

5.  I spoil them with toys and treats they don’t need

Do they need baskets full of toys and an entire cabinet of treats?  Not anymore than your kid needs 10 Barbie dolls and a Malibu playhouse.

Yet, whenever I’m at a pet store, I feel obligated to get them something.  After all, they deserve it, right?

Bentley in bowtie6.  I talk to them in a baby voice.

I don’t want to admit this, but I do.  I sometimes talk to them like they’re babies and I ask them questions.  I don’t expect answers from them…yet…they’re only toddlers.

7.  I assume everyone wants to see pictures and hear stories about them.

Much like moms with their wallets full of baby photos, I’m the same way with my iPhone full of dog pics. Do you want to see them?  Not any more than I want to see the photo of your kid’s school picture.

He's actually running!

8.  I’m convinced they’re the cutest things ever and no one has cuter babies.

This is not up for debate.  I’m convinced of it because it’s 100% true.

9.  I will personally inflict pain to anyone who hurts them.

For reals.  Don’t even think about it.

10.  Our house is in constant disarray because of their toys and play time.

They can’t learn to put their toys away before getting out more, and I’ve often threatened to take them away if they don’t start taking care of them better.

Shady Jack in tuxI then burst into tears because I realize I’ve turned into my mother.

11.  They’re the reason we sometimes miss social events.

From missing a charity event because Bentley ingested stuffing from a toy, to missing a road trip with friends because Shady Jack’s junk was bleeding, we seem to miss events just as much as other parents do.

12.  Our friends are comprised of their friends’ parents

Just like soccer moms team up together in their velour track suits with their cup of espresso, dog moms team up together in their dog-walking clothes with their handful of poo bags.  It’s a shared bond, and no, you can’t join in.

13.  I correct other parents on their parenting styles

If I see someone handling their dog in a way I don’t agree with, I say something.  Did they ask me for help as I passed them while walking down the street?

No, but I’m sure they’re happier to have my wisdom, as I’m clearly an excellent dog parent.  Moms on the playground do the same thing.

Everyone hates those moms.

All 3 at photo shoot14.  I spend most of my disposable income on them

Have you seen the cute toys, bones, treats, collars, leashes and games you can buy for your dogs?  If you have, you definitely have a living room full of Angry Bird dog toys and doggie iPhones.

15. Conflicting parenting styles are a source of arguments

At times, Matt and I will disagree about which way is the best way to discipline the dogs.  Obviously, since I’m always right, my parenting style is correct.

However, it takes him a minute before I beat him down he comes to his senses and realizes my way is the right way.

See?  I’ve convinced you why I’m a mother.  I’ve also convinced you I’m a crazy dog person who probably needs to get a grip on reality, but you knew that already.  You read this blog.

Much like all moms, I love my boys far more than I should, and I wouldn’t trade the three of them for anything in the world.  I couldn’t be happier with them, and I’m so lucky I get to be their mom.

And just like other moms, I don’t have a favorite.*

*I totally have a favorite.

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Happy Mother’s Day to two of my favorite moms.  One of them gave birth to me and the other gave birth to the apple of my eye, my sweet niece, Miss K. The other handsome dudes in the photos are my dad and my brother, as if you couldn’t figure that out.

How to make an ugly christmas sweaterRecently I attended a Christmas in July charity fundraiser.  I didn’t attend so much because I’m charitable, but because I love getting gifts, and I assumed the fundraiser would include door prizes and auction items.

*On a side note, anyone who says “Giving is more fun than receiving” has never received a gift certificate for a day at the spa.  To those people who think it’s more fun to give than receive, feel free to give me as many gifts as you’d like if it makes you feel better.*

After all, I’m quite charitable.

As part of this event’s festivities, there was a contest for the ugliest Christmas sweater/t-shirt.  I’m competitive so I took this contest seriously.

I wanted to win and shove it in the faces of all the other participants so they would know I was the winner and far superior.

You know, all in good fun of course…

I knew I couldn’t construct an ugly Christmas shirt alone, so I called for reinforcements to make something amazing the night before the event. Downtown Christy Brown couldn’t help because she already had plans.

Obviously she didn’t care about charity.

Fortunately, my friend The Great Ape (not her real name) was kind enough to join me in my mission.

We sat down and sketched out our vision like designers on Project Runway.  We came up with our idea to turn me into a Christmas mantle with a stocking hanging from it.  I know, it’s a brilliant idea, which we came up with while I repeatedly yelled “Make it work” in my best Tim Gunn impression.

We headed to a thrift store to get what we needed, which is an entirely different post for a different day.  For reals.  We saw some disturbing things.

Here’s what we purchased for my award-winning design:

photo (87)

Yes, that’s a basket shoved inside a stuffed animal.  I can’t tell if the basket is violating the snowman or if the snowman ate the basket.

stewartMy first act was to decapitate the snowman.  I didn’t want to do it, but peer pressure is a bitch and The Great Ape threatened to do it with a guillotine if I didn’t act quickly.  Not only did I not want the snowman to die like Marie Antoinette, I also didn’t want to know how The Great Ape would fashion a guillotine out of things from my kitchen.

However, I’d seen her work making artificial chimpanzee vaginas, so I didn’t question her creativity skills.

I stepped up to the snowman, avoiding eye contact.  I named him Stewart, and I didn’t want him to know I’d purchased him solely to brutally murder him so I could win a gift card.

photo (89)I held my breath, took the scissors and began to cut, apologizing to Stewart along the way, pointing out he’s lucky he survived as long as he did, what with a basket shoved up his ass and all.

He hung on for a while, making it all the more difficult.  I’m not sure why I didn’t expect him to be a fighter.  He was a snowman who managed to stay alive during 100 degree temperatures in the July heat.

Combine that with the painful hemorrhoids he must have been experiencing from the basket in the ass, and Stewart was nothing but a warrior.

A wounded warrior, but a warrior nonetheless.

As I decapitated Stewart, all the while telling him it was for the greater good, I looked over to find Shady Jack staring in horror.  He loves his stuffed toys and always has one in his mouth.  I didn’t intend for him to see my dirty work, but he walked in just as I began cutting and there was no turning back.

I could practically hear his gasp and although I can’t be sure, I think I saw a tear run down his face.

photo (90)Stewart finally succumbed to the wrath of the kitchen scissors, and The Great Ape got to work quickly sewing his neck shut while I washed the proverbial blood off my hands.  It wasn’t so much blood from Stewart as it was blood from nicking my finger with the scissors.

It was Stewart’s final attempt at life and I didn’t blame him for it.

R.I.P. sweet snowman.

We worked a few more hours sewing and gluing until we had our masterpiece.  We held it up and heard the angels sing as the dining room chandelier shone down on our finished work.  Stewart would have been proud, had he lived to see the final result.

photo (91)It was a bitchin’ shirt if I do say so myself, and I do say so.  Duh.  Obviously, I won the competition, and since it was a charity event, I got to pose for a photo with one of the representatives from the charity.  The photo will be be in their newsletter, which will no doubt increase donations in Stewart’s name.

Despite my win, I couldn’t help but feel a little regret for sweet Stewart, who gave his life so I could win a gift card. I got over it pretty quickly and drowned my sorrows in a snow cone I purchased with my winnings.

Stewart would have wanted it that way.

 

Yes, you read that right!  I’m now a published author, and have a piece in the book, “You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth’ And Other Things You’ll Only Hear From Your Friends In The Powder Room which was released today.

Obviously, since I’m in it, you know the quality is top notch, and the other writers are equally hilarious. Honestly, I have no idea how I was asked to write for this book, but I’m not going to knock it.

I suspect they really wanted to ask Lisa Lampanelli instead, and just confused email addresses.

Whatever the reason, I’ll take it!  I just hope they don’t realize Lisa Lampanelli isn’t in this book.

So please, oh please, check out this book, and by “check out this book” I mean buy it.  Don’t check it out at the library, as that’s lame.  I mean, who uses libraries anymore?  Okay, lots of people do, but whatever.

BUY THE BOOK!

It’s available for Kindle and in paperback, and I believe more options will be released soon.

Please note one of the other options coming soon is not for me to come to your house and read it to you personally, although that could be an option if you pay me in cupcakes and Chipotle gift cards.

Lipstick photoIf you’re interested in the exciting possibility of a live reading, please contact my agent at info@lisanewlin.com. Sure, that looks like it’s just my email address to my blog, but my super important agent checks it from there as she likes to keep a low profile.

Okay, my agent is me, but whatever.

Seriously.  Please buy the book and tell everyone you know to buy it too. Perhaps you should just buy a bulk order and send it to everyone you know. I can guarantee you will laugh.

Come to think of it, you should buy a package of Depends when you buy the book because you’ll probably pee your pants with laughter (especially if you’ve had children and the resulting loss of bladder control that’s a side-effect of giving birth.)

I will stop babbling now because you’re going to go buy the book.  It’s currently in the top 50 on the Amazon Best Seller List for Humor, so obviously lots of other people love it too.

Either that, or my mom is taking out a second mortgage to purchase all the books she can.  Either/Or.  Just buy it.

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http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EA7ZNHO

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**On a serious note, thank you to every one of you who read this blog.  I couldn’t do this without your support and I’m so grateful for each of you.  Although I know many of you, there are many I don’t know, which is perhaps the coolest part of all of this.  You all make me believe it’s possible to achieve my dream of becoming a humor writer.  THANK YOU!**

 

 

Source:  Kobi Levi http://kobilevidesign.com/index.php/footwear/miao.html

Source: Kobi Levi
http://kobilevidesign.com/index.php/footwear/miao.html

It’s no surprise I’m a dog lover.  The dog hair on my clothes and the faint smell of urine give that away fairly easily.

Yeah…the  urine smell is from the dogs…

Recently, one of my fellow dog-lovers shared a photo with me that I felt compelled to share with you.  Fortunately, my friend isn’t Anthony Weiner, so I can share the photo here instead of burying it in the back of my mind and seeking therapy immediately.

(Really Weiner?  You send dick pics and your name is Weiner?  If it wasn’t disgusting it could actually be kind of awesome.)

Okay, enough with the Weiner talk.  (That’s what she said.)

Seriously, guys.  Focus.

Here’s the non-perverted photo my friend shared with me.  Can you believe it? They’re shoes by designer Kobi Levi that look like a dog.

Sure, the dog is headless, but let’s not get too judgy about the accuracy of the shoes and why this is a headless hound.  I have way too many other things to be judgey about with these shoes.

Let’s get started.

http://kobilevidesign.com/index.php/footwear/miao.html

How long can this one hold the downward dog position?
http://kobilevidesign.com/index.php/footwear/
miao.html

First thing’s first, where do I get these fine furry friends?  Do I have to adopt them from a shelter or will I have to go to a breeder for them?

Quite honestly, they look high end, which suggests a breeder was involved in these sweet kicks.

Either way, these sure give new meaning to the phrase “designer dogs.”

If I adopt them, what do I do when I don’t want them anymore because they pee on the floor and chew up my underwear furniture?  Is my only option to put them down…literally?

Are they up-to-date on shots or do I have to pay for that separately?

What kind of care do these puppy pumps require?  Is food and water needed or just a good brushing every now and then?

Do they shed?  I can’t take another shedding dog in my house, so this furry footwear needs to be shed-free.

Is this one napping? http://kobilevidesign.com/index.php/footwear/miao.html

Is this one napping?
http://kobilevidesign.com/index.php/footwear/miao.html

I realize Kobi Levi designed these shoes, but do you think he sold the design to Hush Puppies?  Do you think that’s why the brand is called Hush Puppies?  Because these shoes don’t know how to keep the barking down to a minimum?

Perhaps these dogs literally bark when you wear them.  If so, that would give new meaning to the phrase “My dogs are barking.”

How will they react to the doorbell? Will they cower in a corner and pee on the floor, or will they howl until the intruder leaves the premises?

How will they react to other dogs?  Will they immediately sniff a dog’s crotch and then begin humping him or her?

Where exactly are the genitals located on these shoes?  How do I know if they’re male or female?  Are they spayed or neutered?

Judging by this photo, I’d say these shoes are girls, as I see no sagging fur balls hanging low.  Are the male version loafers for men?

Do these shoes make you randomly start humping people whenever the need arises?  If so, that could be an explanation for Kim Kardashian’s hoe-bag behavior.  The shoes did it!

Nah, she’s still a slut-bag.

Can you wear these shoes around cats or will they immediately get into a scuffle with any feline?

Will they randomly start chasing their tail? This is important information I need to know, as I already have enough challenges just walking normally without having my shoes break out into play.

Are they like most dogs and go crazy for bones?  If so, what kind?  Will they go crazy for the bones in my feet or are they looking for something more of the Nylabone variety?

Do they like to dig and bury bones?  If so, I’m in trouble, as they’re already in the position to start digging to retrieve my metatarsals.  Will they try to hide those or will they just gnaw on them until my feet are numb?

I guess if that’s the case, I can definitely say “These puppies are hurting my feet.”

Do these shoes know how to heel or do they also come in flats?  (Yes, this was a bad pun. I know.)

How do I protect them from wear and tear?  Do I give them a monthly flea dip?

Are these shoes trained to fetch the paper and my slippers on a Sunday morning, or will they stay in bed and hog the covers?

What do I do with them when I want to leave the house?  Do I have to put them in a kennel or will they be good and not tear up the house?

I have so many questions about these shoes, none of which are answered.  I guess I will never know unless I purchase a pair myself.  Either way, I suspect they all have perfect soles…just like most dogs do.

Puppy pumps

This woman cracks me up.  It's probably going to be me in a few years. photo credit: Diueine via photopin cc

This woman cracks me up. It’s probably going to be me in a few years.
photo credit: Diueine via photopin cc

Okay people, I’m super swamped with stuff* because I’m super important.

*I’m almost to the final level in Super Mario Brothers 2 and I can’t be bothered to update my blog.  A girl has priorities.

So, because I know you will shrivel and die without hearing from me regularly and reading my musings, I’ve decided to write a post with a compilation of some of my random Facebook updates over the years.

In a way, they’re my musings and thoughts, and every one of them is pure gold.  Obviously.

  • I just saw a guy at the grocery store at 8:45 this morning buying Vodka and pizza rolls. He’s gonna have a good day!
  • The best way to determine how much someone loves dogs is to see how many nose prints are on the inside of their car windows.
  • I just J-walked in front of a police officer.  I’m such a rebel!
  • A couple next to me at the pool has been arguing all day. I’m considering drafting their divorce agreement for free if they will shut up.
  • I need a power nap. And by “power nap” I mean a week of doing nothing but sleeping.
  • I’m  headed to the shooting range this morning to learn how to shoot a gun. If all goes well, I encourage you to be nicer to me, as I may be packing heat from here on out.
photo credit: niffyat via photopin cc
photo credit: niffyat via photopin cc
  • Last night’s workout was definitely counteracted by the Big Mac and fries I had for dinner.
  • Dear obnoxious biker dude, Yes, you have a Harley and it’s loud.  We’re all impressed and know you have big balls.  Now shut up.  It’s 6:30 a.m.
  • I just learned that my dog is the humper at doggie daycare.  Is that like the biter at kiddie daycare?
  • I’m going to dominate the golf tournament today. And by “dominate” I mean “sit in the golf cart and drink beer.”
  • I’m watching thin models on America’s Next Top Model while stuffing my face with pizza.  It’s invigorating.
  • Pre-marriage statement: “There’s frost on your car this morning…but I scraped it off.”  Post-marriage statement: “There’s frost on your car this morning…better leave early so you can scrape it off.”  **DISCLAIMER** Matt scraped my windows this morning. Whether prompting was involved is another story.
  • I fear my husband will discover it’s breast cancer awareness month and use it as an “opportunity to check for lumps.” Constantly.
  • I’m embarrassed to report that every night of vacation when the maid comes in to turn down our bed, we’re already in it. Pa-thetic!
  • I’m beginning to think that Halloween on Facebook is far better than Halloween in real life. I get to see everyone’s cute kids in costumes, but I don’t have to (1) get up to answer the door or (2) share my candy.
  • I’ve done nothing all morning and I predict more of the same for the rest of the day.
  • I’m a little embarrassed that I fell asleep at the spa today in the meditation room, but even more embarrassed that my snoring woke me up.
  • I’m hoping the Rams will feel my presence at the game today and pull out a win.  If not, I’ll just drink.  It’s a win-win.
  • It’s much easier (and more fun) to ingest calories than it is to burn them off.

So yeah, inspirational, right?  I’m pretty much like a daily devotional.

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov via photopin cc

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov via photopin cc

MH900401128We don’t have kids, so bath time at our house is pretty uneventful.  Matt simply takes his rubber duckies and does his thing.  I just have to make sure he gets out before he prunes.

The other night there was a funky odor in our house, and since we had Mexican food for dinner, we assumed it was our digestion.  We assumed wrong.

After the side effects of the nacho bar subsided, the stench lingered.  So did the indigestion.

As the dogs gathered around us on the couch, looking for guidance on their activities for the evening, we realized the putrid smell wasn’t our bodies’ aversion to avocados.  It was our dogs.  Our smelly, smelly dogs.

Before we could think it through, we agreed to give two of the three dogs a bath.  All three dogs would be suicide, and since Meatloaf says two out of three ain’t bad, we figured that was good enough for us.

If it’s good enough for a C-level “musician” (term used loosely) named after a meal made entirely of beef, then it’s definitely good enough for the Newlins.

dog in sudsBath time it was!

Matt decided to bathe Shady Jack and I took Bentley.  We left Max to fend for himself, mostly because we figured he licks himself so much that he’s probably cleaner than most of us, or at least his genitals are, as that seems to be the focus of the licking.

He’s also a good brother and keeps Shady Jack and Bentley’s manly parts clean as well.  He’s a stickler for hygiene (except when he eats poop.)

I can’t speak for how the bath went with Shady Jack, but I saw the bathroom afterwards and it looked like a massacre of small animals in there.  It was like Dexter’s work room, only instead of blood it was hair; lots and lots of black hair.  And instead of killing, it was bathing.

Okay, so it wasn’t like Dexter’s work room at all.

This isn't good enough for Bentley.  He demands better.

This isn’t good enough for Bentley. He demands better.

Bentley, on the other hand, didn’t so much shed as he did shake and whine the entire time as if he was being assaulted.

He’s a drama queen, and not a fan of baths (or other dogs, or anything that suggests he’s an animal or inferior to anything).  If he could talk, he would have screamed obscenities and most likely called the authorities to report the obvious abuse.

He would also most likely complain about his horrendous living quarters, as he only has 2 pillows to sleep on.  What is he?  An animal?  Pft!

I bathed Diva Bentley in the kitchen sink, as he’s five pounds, and the sink is the perfect size to accommodate what he most certainly would refer to as torture.

He strongly disagreed with my plan, and let his position be known through his whining and shaking.  I could see his mind working as he tried to plan his escape, all the while screaming out for rescue.

When the torture bath was done, I attempted to dry him off, which only further infuriated him.  The look on his face told me he was wondering “How dare she use a regular towel to dry me off when a velveteen blanket would be more proper? I’m British, after all.”

Noted.

small_3950008I put him down and he ran around the house at lightening speed, making sure to roll around on every surface to ensure the horrid water dried off quickly.

After the two dogs were clean, their dirt and hair dirtying up our bathroom and kitchen, Matt and I decided to sit down and enjoy the fruits of our labor (and the chocolate fruits from our Edible Arrangement).

As we sat there stuffing our faces with chocolate covered strawberries, we noticed the smell was still there.  How could that be, as we bathed Shady Jack and Bentley.  Could we be imagining it?

We further investigated and discovered it was Max.  Our sweet, sweet Max.

Unfortunately, we bathed the wrong dog.  So we did what good parents would do: decided not to give him a bath, but sprayed him down with dog cologne instead.

We’re really good parents like that.

 

Bentley bath

Pure. Torture.

dog runningWho? Who? Who?

No really. Who?  It’s a totally legitimate question and I want answers!  Yes, there’s a story.  Isn’t there always?

First off, I will readily admit I’m a sleep walker. I’m also a sleep talker, and if you ask my husband, a sleep scolder and a sleep nagger too.

What can I say? I’m dedicated to my wifely duties and I’m an overachiever.

I can have entire conversations while sleeping and the person talking to me probably has no idea I’m sound asleep. I might be asleep right now as I type this. You’ll never know.

My sleep activity doesn’t necessarily have to do with the fact I get about 5 hours of sleep a night, although I’m sure that doesn’t help.

mphI think its just because I’m always going a million miles an hour, and can’t slow down, even when I’m sleeping.

I can, however, slow down significantly, practically to a snail’s pace, if doing so will get me out of something I don’t want to do. Like clean the bathroom….or talk about my feelings.

I’ve always been a sleep walker but lately I think I’ve been doing better. I suppose there’s no way to measure that for sure, but since I haven’t been charged with assaulting the neighbor’s cat while wearing only a house dress, I’d say I haven’t been sleep walking as much.

The cat wears the house dress, not me. That would just be weird.

So last night, I went to bed about 1:15 and I woke up at 2:00 to Bentley whining. This is not an uncommon occurrence, as he is a super diva and regularly demands things such as fresh water and a pillow fluff.

I’m not kidding.

Bentley on couch

See what I mean? Diva.

polar bearWhile I tended to his every need, I realized Shady Jack wasn’t at the foot of the bed. I knew he was there when I went to bed less than an hour ago, so I decided to investigate.

I walked into the kitchen and looked out into the back yard and saw the light was on outside.

That was strange, as I’m crazy about turning off lights. If I don’t need it, I turn if off. I don’t want polar bears in the North Pole dying because I want to get a better look at what slutty outfit the neighbor is wearing across the street.

It’s easier to spy with the lights off anyway.

I walked over and turned off the lights, apologizing out loud to the polar bears. That’s when I saw Shady Jack’s face staring back at me…from the other side of the door.

This is a re-enactment.  It's not from the night in question.  This was taken during the day.

This is a re-enactment. It’s not from the night in question. This was taken during the day.

jack with toy

He prefers to snuggle with his toys.

Um, what?

I opened the door to let him back in and he seemed unphased by the incident. I tried to get him to tell me who let him out, but I suspect he didn’t want to embarrass me or put me on the spot.

He also seemed more interested in licking his crotch. I can’t say I blame him.

I shrugged it off and went back to bed, grabbing a few cookies before I went.

When I woke up this morning, I asked Matt if he let the dogs out last night and he said no. I believed him because I have to do everything around here.  He suggested I did it in another one of my sleep walking episodes.

He then proceeded to tell me the front door was unlocked this morning when he left for the gym. He may have just been throwing it in my face that he went to the gym this morning, but whatever.  I sleep walk.  That’s cardio.

I was concerned about the unlocked door because I’m crazy about locking the door.  It’s one of the last things I do before I go to bed.

That, and eat some cookies.

And then it hit me. Jerry did it. I probably got up in the night and we had an engaging discussion about the tax code and why he hates tax basis accounting.

Jerry close upAs a side note, don’t ever bring up no-par value stock to Jerry. Lesson learned the hard way.

I bet Jerry came in to take a break from guarding the house, and after our enlightening talk, he decided to let the dogs out so I could go back to sleep.

He then sensed danger at the front of the house, so he returned to his post to secure the premises, thus, forgetting Shady Jack.

He left the front door unlocked because he’s a fricking garden gnome and can’t reach up to lock it. Duh.

These types of problem solving skills are what make me a champion at Clue.

I suspect this closes the case on who let the dogs out. It was Jerry. Someone alert the Baha Men so they can stop asking that obnoxious question.

However, I won’t know for sure it was him for another week, as that’s how long it takes the local police to bring me up on indecent exposure charges.

Hypothetically.

HappyMother's DayHappy Mother’s Day to me!  (Oh, and to you too….)

Okay, so I’m not a mother in the sense that I pushed kids out of my hoo ha, but I still think I’m a mother after all.

Granted, some people would agree I’m a mother, but would then add an unfortunate expletive after that.  Those people suck.  Duh.

Hoo-ha pushing or not, I’m a mother all year long.  No, not to human babies, although I swear I love them as much as if I’d delivered them myself.  Disturbing?  Absolutely.  True?  Totally.

I have three dogs that are the loves of my lives.  Oh, and my husband too.

My dogs are my babies, and I couldn’t possibly love them more.  As you know, I recently wrote a post about why my dogs are better than your kids.  You can check that out here.

Max in a tux with a smooch this pooch pillow

He’s such a ladies’ man.

Okay, so I’m not saying my dogs are better than your specific kids, but just kids in general.

So how am I mother, you ask?  (Aside from the a-forementioned curse word?)  Here are a few reasons:

1.  I deal with poop all the time.

No, it isn’t in a diaper, but I have to pick it up with a plastic bag, so I’m still hurting the environment the same way.

The bad part is that unlike babies who (hopefully) grow out of needing moms to tend to their bowels, my dogs will never become sufficient at picking up their own poo (with anything other than their mouths).

2.  I take them to daycare

Yes, I’m that mom, and if you took your dog to daycare, you would know why we do.  Best money ever spent, and I don’t even have to pack a lunch for them!

Much like mothers of human babies, I also worry about what they’re learning at daycare.  I fear one day Shady Jack will come home and drop the f-bomb.  I know that guy is learning bad language from all the other pups, as it certainly wouldn’t come from my angel.

3.  I’m up at least twice during the night with them

From whimpering to peeing to running out of water, I’m up with them a few times a night when all I really want to do is sleep.  Matt and I take turns pretending to be asleep so we don’t have to get up.  We’re just like a real family!

Jack in rescued collar4.  One of them is always going to the doctor

From the sniffles to randomly being attacked by two dogs, one of them is always going to the doctor for something.  We haven’t had a pink eye outbreak yet, but I know it’s coming.  (No thanks to daycare.)

5.  I spoil them with toys and treats they don’t need

Do they need baskets full of toys and an entire cabinet of treats?  Not anymore than your kid needs 10 Barbie dolls and a Malibu playhouse.

Yet, whenever I’m at a pet store, I feel obligated to get them something.  After all, they deserve it, right?

Bentley in bowtie6.  I talk to them in a baby voice.

I don’t want to admit this, but I do.  I sometimes talk to them like they’re babies and I ask them questions.  I don’t expect answers from them…yet…they’re only toddlers.

7.  I assume everyone wants to see pictures and hear stories about them.

Much like moms with their wallets full of baby photos, I’m the same way with my iPhone full of dog pics. Do you want to see them?  Not any more than I want to see the photo of your kid’s school picture.

He's actually running!

He’s actually running!

8.  I’m convinced they’re the cutest things ever and no one has cuter babies.

This is not up for debate.  I’m convinced of it because it’s 100% true.

9.  I will personally inflict pain to anyone who hurts them.

For reals.  Don’t even think about it.

10.  Our house is in constant disarray because of their toys and play time.

They can’t learn to put their toys away before getting out more, and I’ve often threatened to take them away if they don’t start taking care of them better.

Shady Jack in tuxI then burst into tears because I realize I’ve turned into my mother.

11.  They’re the reason we sometimes miss social events.

From missing a charity event because Bentley ingested stuffing from a toy, to missing a road trip with friends because Shady Jack’s junk was bleeding, we seem to miss events just as much as other parents do.

12.  Our friends are comprised of their friends’ parents

Just like soccer moms team up together in their velour track suits with their cup of espresso, dog moms team up together in their dog-walking clothes with their handful of poo bags.  It’s a shared bond, and no, you can’t join in.

13.  I correct other parents on their parenting styles

If I see someone handling their dog in a way I don’t agree with, I say something.  Did they ask me for help as I passed them while walking down the street?

No, but I’m sure they’re happier to have my wisdom, as I’m clearly an excellent dog parent.  Moms on the playground do the same thing.

Everyone hates those moms.

All 3 at photo shoot14.  I spend most of my disposable income on them

Have you seen the cute toys, bones, treats, collars, leashes and games you can buy for your dogs?  If you have, you definitely have a living room full of Angry Bird dog toys and doggie iPhones.

Bentley sleeping in red sheets15. Conflicting parenting styles are a source of arguments

At times, Matt and I will disagree about which way is the best way to discipline the dogs.  Obviously, since I’m always right, my parenting style is correct.

However, it takes him a minute before I beat him down he comes to his senses and realizes my way is the right way.

See?  I’ve convinced you why I’m a mother.  I’ve also convinced you I’m a crazy dog person who probably needs to get a grip on reality, but you knew that already.  You read this blog.

Much like all moms, I love my boys far more than I should, and I wouldn’t trade the three of them for anything in the world.  I couldn’t be happier with them, and I’m so lucky I get to be their mom.

And just like other moms, I don’t have a favorite.*

*I totally have a favorite.

300 315

Happy Mother’s Day to two of my favorite moms.  One of them gave birth to me and the other gave birth to the apple of my eye, my sweet niece, Miss K. The other handsome dudes in the photos are my dad and my brother, as if you couldn’t figure that out.

My mom's purse and her blinged out phone case.

My mom’s purse and her blinged out phone case.

This is my future.  Look at it.  Is it a photo of a purse with faux fur on it?  Yes, yes it is.

HELP!Is it adorable?  Yes, but that’s not the point.  And the blinged out phone cover? Also adorable, but also gaudy, no?

The point is this:  I’m turning into my mother.

Don’t get my wrong, I tolerate love my mother, so turning into her is isn’t a bad thing.

But so soon?  So quickly?

I figured I’d be at least late 50s before the resemblences started creeping in.  Apparently not.

I’ve been denying it for years, but it’s quickly becoming a realization I don’t think I can deny anymore.  The transformation has begun!

<to be read in a loud voice with ominous music in the background.>

I know, I know, few more horrific words have ever been uttered.  It’s what every young girl fears the most.

Well, that and the clap, but I guess since I dodged that bullet, I’m stuck with the other fear.

Whether it’s the lesser of two evils is something I’m not sure of, although I know one of them can be cured with penicillin.

laughing with mouth openIt came on gradually (the transformation, not the clap). I think both ailments may come on gradually but the transformation into my mother didn’t involve itchiness or the urge to pee myself.

Either way, I noticed the changes slowly.

Uttering a cheesy phrase under my breath was the first sign.

Want an example?  Well, you’re getting one.

When watching an episode of Law & Order: SVU, the opening credits indicated one of the actors was named B.D. Wong.

Without even thinking, I yelled out “He B.D. Wong guy for the job!”

Is that joke hilarious?  Of course it is, which is why I began cracking up immediately after I said it.

But then I looked around the room and saw the expressions I knew so well; the eye rolls, the moaning in irritation.

I know them because that’s my standard response to my mother’s jokes that aren’t really that punny.  (Ha!  Punny!  I’m on a roll!)

drugsSimple enough.  I figured it was just one instance of bad joke-telling.  If Seth McFarlane can do it, so can I.

But then it moved onto conspiracy theories.  That’s when I started to notice I may need to seek help.

Was the government trying to take over my life by taxing me to death?  Obviously, as evidenced by this year’s tax return.

Did my office have a secret stash of cookies my coworkers hide from me because they know I’d eat them if I knew about them?  Probably.

But let’s face it; that’s probably a good idea on their part.

One thing I do know for sure, though, is that YES, all the kids really are on drugs these days.  Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

As if these small tendencies creeping into my life weren’t enough, another symptom appeared that made it far more real.  The humming started.  That’s when I knew it was serious.

girl singing with microphoneIt was one thing to believe every kid over the age of 14 was a heroin junkee.  (I blame “the MTV” and the video games.)

But it’s quite another to hum songs loudly in public. Worst of all?  I found myself trying to hum the harmony.

FOR SHAME!

Now it’s just snowballing.  I find myself drawn to sparkly things that most people, and Lisa from 5 years ago, would have found gaudy.  But now, a part of me thinks “That’s kind of pretty.  Look at it sparkle.”

For some reason, my taste in glittery things has skyrocketed and there’s no way to stop it.  Why would I buy a pair of plain glasses when I could get a pair with rhinestones blinged out on the sides?

I wouldn’t.

I guess they say that acceptance is the first step.  I’m not sure if I’m there yet, but I suppose I’m on the road to that destination, not paying attention and sideswiping vehicles as I go.

sparkleMaybe it’s not so bad.

After all, my mom isn’t that far away from the senior citizen discount, and I love saving money.

Plus, the sparkly tops and glittery glasses will make it easier for people to find me when I inevitably fall down or get lost on the street looking for my car.