Dog Food For Thought

Here are two simple rules that should always be followed:

• People should not be treated like dogs.
• Dogs should not be treated like people.

First off, it drives me crazy to see people treated like animals, even in a kindly way. It is so demeaning. Never talk to a person the same way you would talk to your dog, either in the sick baby-talk way or the command form. Don't say the words "Good boy" or "Here girl" to a human being. Do not ever pat someone on the head.

Secondly, do not treat your dog like a person. My friend is dog-sitting for her boss this weekend, which to me should mean making sure that it hasn't run away and that it gets some food every now and then. Not in this case. Apparently, this dog can't bear to be alone for more than four or five hours at a time, so my friend has to stop by 4-5 times a day. As she explained to me, "The family is really wealthy, so the daughter is spoiled and the dog even more so." Money or not, a dog that high-maintenance deserves a rolled-up newspaper to the side of its carefully manicured head.

My friend received further instructions to put a sweater on the dog if it was cold outside (I have long held the opinion that people who dress their dogs are on the far side of crazy) and that if the mutt gets lonely during the night then it has permission to sleep on the bed where my friend was sleeping. There are certain principles that should never be crossed, and babying a dog like that is one of them.

From the Dissing Your Dog Infomercial on SNL: "Oh sorry, Snoopy. I know you wanted prime rib...Let's just go with the Alpo. I know it's not your first choice, but keep in mind, you're a f***ing dog."

Five Golden Rings

Tonight is a "scratching post," meaning that I post about something that I've been itching to let out.

Wow, that was a really crappy play on words. I did, however, just make it up, so I do feel somewhat proud of it. Like a mother would feel about her ugly baby. Anyway, here goes:

What is with engagement rings?!?! Why has a tiny, but highly expensive, piece of metal and stone become the symbol of love and devotion?! It just seems so cheap and materialistic to me.

Take, for example, the following scenario: a man gets engaged, and the next day his buddies come over to his place, and sitting in his living room is this monster flat-screen, high-definition television. The guys ooh and ahh over it, telling him how beautiful it is and how pretty it looks when held up to the light. The man feels like his fiance must really love him, because she forked out the big bucks to buy him this expensive TV which, in all its plasma-screen, ambiance-lighting, TiVo'd glory, is an emblem of their love. (Sigh.) Besides, he honestly would've felt a little disappointed if it had only been a 45-incher instead of the 60-inch screen.

I realize that this is a ridiculous scenario. But it makes about as much sense to me as the emphasis placed on engagement rings. At least a TV is practical. I'm honestly not a cheapskate, and my fiance will get a freakin' huge ring if that's what is important to her. But that's what really gets me-- it's not the money in itself at all, but the idea that something so pure and immaterial is contaminated with filthy lucre (okay, so I just like that word). Why in the world would that be important to her, or anyone for that matter?!?!

I guess I've been too heavily influenced by my hippie heritage. Y'all have heard the story-- my dad, lying in the fields like hippies did, weaved my mom an engagement ring out of the tall grass. She's got a real ring now, but that wasn't what mattered.

No matter what De Beers may say, families are forever, not diamonds.

My Secret Shames

In the interest of full disclosure, I offer the following semi-embarrassing revelations:

#1) I like chick-flicks. Now don't get me wrong, I still enjoy bro-shows as much as the next guy. But more and more, I find that I actually like sappy, sentimental movies. Tonight I went and saw "Memoirs of a Geisha" and it was freakin' unbelievable. Three simple words: BETTER... THAN... KONG. I am so ashamed.

#2) I like Christian rock music. We're not talking Michael "The Mullet" McClean stuff. We're talking electric guitars, a thumping base line, and song titles like "Salvation Street" or "Jesus Freak." I even have it as a pre-set on my car radio. Several years ago, I was given a CD with a mix of Christian rock on it. Every once in a while you can still see me playing air drums and wailing out, "In the beginning was the Word." Can I get an Amen!

#3) I have a disgustingly large doll collection. There, I said it. After picking yourself up from off the ground and wiping away the tears of laughter, read on for an explanation. My grandmother collects Madame Alexander dolls, the collectible kind of porcelain doll that you can't play with. (Uhh, not that I'd want to play with them even if I could. Ah crap.) Well anyway, every Christmas since I was born, Grammie gave all her grandkids a doll. This year was actually the first year that I don't remember getting a dolly for Christmas. That's probably a good thing because we were running out of room on my shelf, uh, I mean in the garage. Seriously, they'll make good Ebay fodder eventually, but for now, just having a doll collection, even one that just sits out in boxes, is yet another reason for me to hate myself.

In the words of the Simpson's Comic Book Guy: "Please don't tell people the way I live."

Ode to Kimmie

Okay, they're not quite love poems, but we're not quite "romantically involved".

There once was a girl named Kim,
Who had reading habits that were quite grim.
She read until she cried
About how everybody died
But all the crying kept her quite slim.

I have a good friend named Stobel.
She spends a lot of time on her mobile.
And I feel quite maligned
Because she left me behind
When she fled the States and went global.

After Kimmie had to move away
She fell in love with a man named Jose.
So she never came back
But lives in a shack
With her thirteen children. Ole!

Seriously, Kim, we are all going to miss you so much while you're gone. I know I will. Be safe (but be sure to catch a South American virus as a souvenir).

Hasta!! Adios. Que pasa? Enchilada. Vaquero. Zorro. Siete. Baja California. El nino. (That's pretty much all the espanol I know. And Zorro is really not a spanish word. He's a sword-wielding Mexicali crimefighter, like Cesar Chavez or El Guapo.)

Two Turtledoves

I was going to write about something else tonight, but I got sidetracked by this thought: Is a turtledove a real animal, or is it like a liger?

Okay, I know that there is supposedly a liger in the Bean Museum of Science and Other Bunk, but since I have never seen it, it must not exist. (What, I'm supposed to walk all the way up by DT for something other than a "Bell Tower Moment"? Yeah right!) The state of Oklahoma and the "theory of relativity" also fall in this category. I haven't seen them ergo they are not real.

Whenever I try to imagine what a turtledove looks like, three mental images lodge in my head:

• The mockturtle from "Through the Looking Glass" AKA "Alice in Wonderland Part Deux" AKA "A Crappy Book Written By A Pedophile On Opium." (Sorry Ronnie, I know you like it.)
• The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles transforming after they discover the "secret of the ooze."
• The Wuzzles, an 80's Disney cartoon where the main characters were two animals combined: Bumblelion, Rhinokey, Butterbear, Eleroo, etc.

So, back to my original question: Are turtledoves real? Are they some freakish genetic hybrid? Birds with a shell? Turtles with wings? (Like the flying Koopas of Mario Land!!) And why the heck would my true love present me with a pair of such mutants. It's not like they can even breed--everyone knows that interspecific hybrid animals cannot reproduce. Just ask the imaginary sterile stuffed liger in the L.L. Bean Museum, but only if you happen to be up by that area of campus (ITBT: In The Bell Tower).

12 Days of Christmas

in honor of the 12 days of christmas
i will write a new blog every day for the next 12 days
or at least until i get tired of it

in honor of my long lost friend leafvayne
i will use no punctuation or capitalization in this post
and space my sentences creatively

it is a common mistake to think that the 12 days of christmas
hereafter to be referred to as the 12doc
are the 12 days preceding christmas
like a countdown
or one of those chocolate picture calendar things

this is false

the 12doc begin on christmas day
and continue until january 5th
which is known as 12th night
january 6th is known as epiphany
which i think is a funny word
and should mean the greatest of all tiffanys or stefanis

on a similar note
if you were to really get the gifts from the 12doc
under your tree you would have
23 birds
50 people
and 5 golden rings

i would like to receive nine ladies dancing
thank you very much

merry christmas
happy hanukkah
and lets not forget
krazy kwanzaa