blame it on the dog

a new love...

Wed, 26 Apr 2006 04:38:53 GMT

I red in a book today that one of the most prominent characteristics of a Boston Terrier is determination. I'm not one for giving in to stereotypes or labels, especially when they are entirely based on your race...but this one holds prety true and when I seriously look at myself, in all honesty, I can't disagree.

Anyways, my new love, right. right. Ok, so I moved out to Yorba Linda with this jerk.
He's all right I guess. Better than being stuck in some tract house in the middle of hell. Anyways, so this guy is outside all the time moving shit from one place to another and I don't understand how that could be fulfilling, but, whatever I'm not human. But all this time outside has opened so many doors for me.

For instance, the avocado, nature's testicle, has now taken the place of the tennis ball in my pyramid of obsessions. This is truly my new love.

I started doing yoga too.

life!

Sun, 16 Oct 2005 04:45:16 GMT

Life is so short. Especially when one day you wake up and you realize you've already been alive for three and a half years and then dealing with the realization that this puts you somewhere in your mid twenties. God where did that come from?

Despite this strange nagging thought that life really is meaningless, every now and then I find some kind of awesome moment. It's hard to explain the type. There seems to be a consensus as to what a "normal" situation is, even ones that are serious or funny--it's like there is a way that people can feel ok with them. Or at least that is what I have gathered from television and gauging by this family that locks me within their stupid doors, it is pretty true to reality.

So then there are these moments that nobody wants to talk about and try to avoid in intense kind of ways. Awkward is the best way to describe them. Any way I can further the cause of the awkward moment, I get a glimpse into this strange, fleeting life.

The best way, I find, to create one of these times is when different people come for a visit and I go right for the crotch. There are actually a lot of things you can tell about someone from the smell of their crotch, it's amazing. At first I was just wondering what kind of people these were. At one point I noticed that when you sniff someone's crotch, they don't know what to do. They don't want to punish me cause they're guests and they don't want to acknowledge it for some reason. The result?? well, you know.

Another way is to pee on things. Humans think dogs pee on things because they are 'making their territory.' This is the biggest load of crock I have ever heard. What's the point when I can't even open doors? I pee on things because it puts people in weird places and it is a great way get payback. They don't punish me, they just put me outside because I "can't help it" or something. Well, I can and you are my tool!

I urge you all to go out there and increase the number of awkward moments in this world and then bask in the greatness of weird situations. Maybe you'll find something.

...and thus begins

Tue, 04 Oct 2005 04:05:12 GMT

I have some problems. You, being my new friend, have agreed to put up with them and, in some cases, offer some kind of support or, the opposite, some degree of drama and/or neglect. Or, at least that is what I understand about the meaning of this friend phenomenon-I am new to it. In that light...where to start...

To begin with, I'm somewhat fuzzy about the deal of what you humans call O.C.D. I call it, give me the damn ball and stop teasing me cause I need my fix. Really, it's bad. Very bad. It's like when you are chasing after a bunny and the whole time you keep thinking, "When I catch you little bastard, I'm going to eat your face" and the only thing that keeps you against your better judgment and into the cactus patch is this thing, for which I have no name. It is this same feeling, this drive that takes over my brain when I see something round, round and juicy and in desperate need of some chewing.

But, what is important is I can acknowledge it. What scares the crap out of me, sometimes, is I will realize, in the act, that I have a problem-but this doesn't stop me- I push that feeling down down down and usually end up soiling the carpet. It overwhelms me and overtakes me and, even though I know I should stop, I don't. This, obsession, if you will, has taken me to great heights and even deeper lows. I just want the ball, why won't you give it to me you selfish prick??? ok, sorry, not you, you are my friend and you wouldn't do that to me.

At any rate, this is my main problem. At one point, i think this would be what you humans call "hitting rock bottom," it drove me to a suicide attempt. They don't understand when they are in the cement pond, with balls, and kids, and balls, this is my life and to take me away from that and lock me in the house behind a perfectly transparent and impenetrable door is to take my life and taunt me with it whilst I sit in the baths of hell and hope desperately that I can eat your face one day. I am not proud of this next part and, granted, it takes a lot for me to talk about it. I go upstairs, bid the world one more farewell and jump out of the window fast to the ground for my imminent fate. Nobody said "don't do it" or "you have so much to live for." They just stared, how dense can you be???!!! My short, depressing life flashed before my eyes and...then, on my way down, I see it. that gorgeous green tennis ball glistening with ice cold chlorine water and basking, all alone, in the warm sun. This feeling that has driven me to the extreme of death now drives me, uncontrollably, toward the possibility of life and one more blissful encounter with this round mass of beauty. I re-direct, turn around and land on my chest. No air for a few seconds, incredible chest pain, sprained leg...but oh that ball.

I believe you all now have some kind of inkling as to what I mean. This is my obsession. . . my confession. If any of you have any intelligent solutions, I would be most interested. if not, piss off.