A Few Things That Have Had Me Roaring Today

Today has been a non-stop laugh fest. It began, oh so kindly, with one of my BFF's posting this amazing picture on her blog. In the post, she wishes her dear sweet baby puppy a happy birthday, and illustrates with the picture below. And this is my new favorite pic! Alana, of course, looks beautiful (she never doesn’t) but her dog, with her 2nd birthday, also seems to have morphed into some sort of hip, no-nonsense, drug lord. I’m still not sure how something that’s only seven pounds can be a bad-ass, but our little Rockstar has accomplished it, what with the cheetah outfit and the hairy jowls. She only needs a cigar in her mouth and some gold gangsta chains ‘round her neck, and she’s set! Anyway, for some reason, I have fallen truly.madly.deeply in love with this picture, and it’s on my desktop at work, for shameless peeping every now and again. Thanks for unwittingly making my day, Lana! I love you and your darling drug lord pooch! Seriously. Just look at Roxy's face, for like, a minute straight, and you can't help but chuckle!

The day got a bit better (well, not better, but at least more interesting) when a colossal furry spider ambled on into the bathroom stall I happened to be facilitating. I panicked, naturally. It gleefully roosted inches from my left foot, and I was, well, otherwise occupied. It’s not like I could do what I normally do (scream and run for cover) and get my self to safety in a timely manner. I thought for a few mere seconds about actually squashing the thing, but I realized that since it seemed to be roughly the same size and height as a newborn infant, I did not relish the idea of hearing the crunch, then inevitably having to throw away a pair of my favorite kicks because it had spider contamination all over it. Plus, I could tell it was plotting my untimely demise, and I didn’t want to provoke it. I survived, though, but barely.
Just barely.

I’ve also done some sneaky calculations, and I have come to the horrifying conclusion that my dietician’s sole quest in life is to make me fat, and not just fat, but, like, enormously fat. Naturally, as I have, you know, oh, a small fear of that, it’s had me stressing. During my sesh with her earlier this week, I was trying to fish for an exact number she wanted me to gain, but could get nothing better than her saying she wanted me to go up, well, let’s just say a looooot of BMI points. So, I get on the internet, and since I’m smarter than a canine, it didn’t take me long to calculate the number she more or less wants me at, and it is preposterously high – and I’m not just saying that because some would say I have an eating disorder and therefore am a bit distorted when it comes to my body. Like, the number she wants me at is higher than the number I delivered the man-child at. So naturally, upon discovering this, I roared for a good twenty minutes, and promptly decided I need to have a heart to heart with the dietician, let her know that this is never (and doesn’t need to!) happen. If it’s necessary to establish dominance, then so be it. I should go watch the Discovery channel and see how the tigers do it. Establish dominance, I mean. I’ll look into it and keep you updated.

And, lastly, you’ll only find this funny if you are familiar with The Lord of the Rings. Marissa, I cannot wait for the moment you read this! So, Rivendell. That is the village where Frodo and Sam and the other hobbits live, right? Well, nothing makes for a better word to say when belching. It’s my new favorite hobby. Rivvvveeennnnddddeeeelllll! It’s so satisfying. I’m thinking I’m going to try to get Brandon video recording me while doing it, then posting it for your (shameless, I hope) enjoyment.

Have a good day, all! Brandon and Cade came and picked me up during my lunch break, and we went and bought the necessary tools to dress Mrs. Peterson’s wounds to nurse her back to health. Brandon has promised me her speedy recovery by 5 pm sharp, when I am off work, so that we can all go on a lovely ride together.