Sharp Corners

Y’all are some sick folks out there. And I like that about you.

When I wrote this post I mused aloud at how long it would take for someone to find my blog via a Google search for "doggy porn." I believe it took about two hours. One instance I can understand but if you had any idea how many people find me via "doggy porn" you’d become truly scared.

Some other searches that have lead people to my blog in recent days:

• Amazing Race big boobs
• Chicago street corner prostitutes
• fingernails hurt and eyelashes
• what rhymes with dog
• dog women lick

You people are just weird. And I mean that as a compliment.

There’s a reason that I think shopping for cars is about as pleasurable as having lit firecrackers shoved under my eyelids. My god, car salesmen a bunch of FREAKS! I know there are exceptions but, Christ in a Chrysler, is there some sort of test these guys have to take to qualify for Creepiest Salesman? Maybe it was my fault for shopping the day after Christmas. Maybe they were all hung over and hurting.

Doubt it.

Overall, everyone was perfectly nice to us but the vibes they gave off ("fresh meat!!!") were unmistakable. The instant one toe touched the ground as I got out of the car, these guys swarmed. And they all wear these huge gold pinky rings. I felt like I was shopping at "Guido’s House of Cars and Sausages."

And another thing. They don’t listen. Now, maybe I was being overly sensitive because having to speak the word "minivan" out loud offends my delicate sensibilities but it seemed like once it was out in the open what they heard was "borrrring….I’d rather sell a Jeep…..I want to test drive PT Cruisers today and these people will probably want to drive twenty in the left lane while making sure their seat belts are properly secured. And they’ll probably play with the radio." (I did not!) As soon as they heard I was looking for a new mmm…mmmi….mmmmmmmm…..minivan they were bored with us. Okay, maybe I was bored with us. At any rate, they could have at least tried to seem like they cared. After all, they were hoping to get us to part with large amounts of American dollars, right? So humor me. Make me feel like getting a minivan is the coolest of all possible purchases and I’ll look so swanky that I’ll want to kiss myself. Tell me how nice those large panels of glass will showcase my lovely self. Tell me how Easter Egg Blue will look so nice with my skintone. Remind me that all the coolest people drive minivans and I will be a trendsetter among women in my demographic. In other words, lie to me.

So, what was the end result of the trip? Who was the weirdest of the weird salesmen I met? Did I come home with a minivan, a convertible Mustang or a bad ass four wheel drive Tahoe? Or nothing? Tune in later and find out.

J and I went to a couple of movies over the last couple of days: Oceans Twelve and Meet the Fockers. I’ve been jonesing for Oceans Twelve since about five minutes after I saw Oceans Eleven and I wish I could say it was worth the wait but it wasn’t. Instead I’ll say it’s preposterous, hokey, formulaic and, at times, hard to follow. See it anyway. Girls, there’s so much eye candy in this movie, your retinas will catch fire. Don’t worry guys, you’ll have Catherine Freaka-Jones and Julia "Lips" Roberts to keep you company while your girlfriend or wife struggles to hear so much as one word of dialog while frantically fanning herself with drool covered napkins.

Meet the Fockers was pretty funny and, thankfully, they found some new humor instead of regurgitating old jokes from the first movie. It was long on farce and short on actual plot but, then again, if you’re expecting anything less from this movie, well…take a pill.

That’s as much of a movie review as you’ll get out of me. Do I look like Roger Ebert?

Oh, I’ve had just too much fun the last three days. You’ll hear all about it mostly about it over the next few days but I know what you really want right now is a Rocco update.

Folks, this like living with a hundred and twenty pound two year old. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. He’s just….spirited. (Do they make doggy Ritalin?) His favorite passtime, aside from following me around like I have Alpo in my pockets, is to rearrange the furniture. I know I kid around a lot on this blog but, seriously boys and girls, Rocco apparently used to live with Hildi because he spends an inordinate amount of time shoving the sectional couch around the room until it’s "just so". I’ve also amassed quite a collection of things on my desk that I’ve saved from his monster puppy jaws. This afternoon alone, I’ve rescued a remote, my sneaker, the Yellow Pages (well, most of the Yellow Pages…T through Z, I believe), a photo album, a coffee cup, nine socks, a Santa hat and some guy named Pete who happened to be out for a walk. It’s not that he doesn’t have his own toys to chew so I guess he just likes hearing us yell, "HEY! STOP! OUT! NO! HEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!’ over and over.

This dog is nothing if not graceful. Yesterday he came charging out of the yard towards the house and ran smack into the plate glass sliding door. The night before that he fell over the back of the couch onto the floor. Earlier that night he slid down between the cushions and got stuck. Head first. He hasn’t quite figured out that doggy paws don’t provide good traction on tile floors so he’s forever careening towards us with all four legs splayed out on the floor until he skids to a stop with his chin on our feet.

He never barks unless I get out the vacuum cleaner which I think he imagines to be some loud robotic apparition out for my blood. As soon as I turn it on, Rocco starts stalking it, pawing it and barking until his little doggy vocal cords practically bleed.

When I’m not laughing at him with him, I give him one end of his tugging rope/pull toy thingy and hold on tight to the other end so he can pull me around the kitchen on my rolling desk chair. Who knew puppies could be so much fun? ME!

Spell check is not good enough, try editing blog entries before posting them. The typos and (most) of the grammatical errors of today’s posts have been fixed which goes to show you: I can’t multitask. Now, back to deciding between paying for WinAmp, Real Rhapsody, Musicmatch or Napster. AAAAAARGH!!!!!!