Random Crap


The dog is bad. After Rocky died, Charley got depressed. And we knew that was something that could happen. But time passed and he seemed to stay depressed, bordering on lethargic. Very un-puppy-like (he had just turned two). We had been taking him to the vet for some weird, seemingly random symptoms, to no avail. But then we got tired of not knowing what was going on and turned to trusted (ha!) Dr. Google. Turns out his weird symptoms and the lethargy were due to an underactive thyroid. He’s on medication now and is doing great. All of his problems disappeared right away. Most notably, the lethargy. And it turns out that he is a big asshole. It’s great that he has energy and is more lovable. But I could do without the shoe-eating, garbage-picking, and most especially the trying to take the food right out of my mouth as I am eating. Stupid functional thyroid.

Oh – and now he has an ear infection. Have you ever had to give dog eardrops? How about a 100 pound beastly bad dog? It’s a good time. It goes like this:

  1. We call him
  2. He uses his dog superpower psychic brain and determines we’re calling him for nefarious reasons
  3. He runs
  4. We chase him
  5. I grab his collar as he runs past
  6. He knocks me off my feet, & drags me around the house
  7. I eventually maneuver myself on top of him and pin him down
  8. Mr b gets the eardrops ready
  9. He does the dog version of the Curly Shuffle while I am laying on top of him
  10. All three of us go in circles through the process getting of eight (EIGHT!) drops in his ear
  11. We feel bad & offer him conciliatory tater tots
  12. He tells us fuck our tots
  13. He waits until the moment is right & steals our sandwiches



I am lucky enough that I work in a building with a parking garage AND valets (which Awesome Company pays for. I love Awesome Company). Anyway – the valets are generally nice guys. Sometimes a liitle slow, but for the most part efficient & friendly. The one thing that bugs me though, is when one particular guy takes my car & I get back in the car at the end of the day and they have turned off my radio or turned the volume all the way down.  Come on! He’ll only be in the car for 40 seconds, and my music isn’t blaring. This tells me that he is doing this as some sort of statement about my music. Which pisses me off, because I don’t like his stupid sideways hat, but I don’t straighten it for him every morning.




Yesterday morning, I was sitting in my quiet house working and I heard this tapping noise. It sounded like someone was knocking on the outside walls of the house. Even Charley heard it and came in barking like a fool. I was looking out all the windows, trying to figure out what the heck it was, when it finally stopped when a big crow flew off the roof. There was a gig, creepy crow perched on the edge of my roof, tapping on my wall.  Is a crow the same thing as a raven? As in “Quoth the raven, nevermore?’  Because if so, I am just waiting for the heartbeat to start up in the basement.




Conversation with a teen:

Me (after he comes out of his room to leave for school wearing shorts): “What on Earth makes you think you’re wearing shorts today?”

Him: “It’s going to be 36 degrees today!”

Me: “EXACTLY! No shorts!”

Him: “Come ON!”




I was watching some morning news type show last week and they were talking to a woman from Cosmo magazine. She was going on about how great Cosmo is for working women – that they have tons of great career advice. Uh…yeah… I think I’ll pass on career advice from the publication that once suggested that to meet men, I wear a short skirt & bend over.


About sugarmag

Forty-sdjhfkjsdhfkjsdh year old mom of 2 - a 18 year old boy and a 11 year old girl. I love them very much, but they drive me crazy. I'm married and work full-time. I'm not sure which of these is the most exhausting, but probably the husband. I'm opinionated. I'm outspoken. I'm loud. I'm an over-sharer. I think Tom Cruise is a jackass. I like to say jackass. I like to swear, period. Fuckers. I love to read. I struggle with my weight. I love my job. I dress my pets up and ridicule them regularly. I am not afraid to cut my hair and I don't understand people who are. I hate getting old. I love to laugh. Make me laugh, OK?

6 responses »

  1. You know how there’s a huge bank of display televisions in stores that sell them, all the TVs set to the same program for comparison? As I was walking past just such a bank, I heard Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue mentioned as being about attainable, natural beauty.

    I get the “Come ON!!” too, usually about the wearing of coats in 20s weather.

    • Yes – I generally think of hours in a makeup chair, hours of hair styling, nipping & tucking, a professional photographer, 3 people holding reflectors, a wind machine, a push-up bikini, and lots of airbrushing as “natural,” don’t you?

  2. I must have missed the part where the dog immediately flaps his head to shake out all traces of the drops.

    Also, let the boy go out in shorts. That’ll teach him. We have to learn these lessons for ourselves.

  3. We’re thinking of getting a dog…but the idea of having to do eardrops is giving me pause. Oh, and my sister mentioning today that her one dog is having bowel problems. (On the bright side for her, her two dogs seem to be staying away from the dining room, which she fondly dubs their Vomitorium).

    Maybe I’m not ready for a dog…
    (or as you commented on my blog yesterday, a teenager!!)

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