Introducing....

Miss Gia.

Our little miss ladypants has been with us for a week, today, and I couldn't be happier.

FAQ:

What is she?

She's a mutt. We don't know. The vet doesn't know. No one knows. I have been told by guy at gym that I can pay $150 to send a cotton swab of her spit to a guy in California to analyze what she is...I'm going with no on that one. She's cute and awesome. That's what she is.

How big will she be?

According to the vet, somewhere between 25 and 40 lbs. Again, we don't know.

Does she rock?

She rocks. And she is hilarious. She takes after me.

Are you turning into one of those annoying dog people who only want to talk about funny shit their dog does?

Hmmm... Hope not. Probably, though.

Boy and I love her, and so do all her new friends. She loves her vet and her vet tech, and I'm lucky that my punkass buddy knows a ton about dogs and dog raising (because he's a great dog daddy), so he's been a great resource, too.

I promise she won't be the focus of every post from now on, but I had to gush a bit. Cheers!

Anecdotes and Non-Sequiturs

The first:

I was sitting in the coffee shop, listening to two people next to me having a conversation.

Him: Have you seen Monica?
Her: Yeah, she's not doing so well. But it's hard to sympathize, 'cuz she's so annoying.

I do not know these people. They were obviously speaking of a different Monica. But I immediately felt defensive and hurt.

The second:

Boy and I went to a wedding in Madrid a few weeks ago. All was beautiful, and we had a great time. However, if Jesus went to a wedding in Madrid instead of Cana, he would have had to turn the wine into water. I have never been thirstier in my life than I was in Madrid. This seemed like a general consensus amongst the folks I was with. No one had a real reason why.

The third:

I haven't slept in three days. I'm jittery and tired. This week's been bad.

The fourth:

I haven't been even getting pleasure out of hockey these days. Though my team rocks, as usual.

The fifth:

I'm sitting in the coffee shop right now, again, and feeling sorry for myself. This was immediately alleviated, however, when I just heard the opening beats of "That's Not My Name," by the Ting Tings. I defy you to be in a bad mood when you hear this song. Also, two of my favorite people in the world love this song, and they both happen to be under the age of four.

The sixth:

I have re-found a prior love for Jonathan Ames. When me and Boy re-discover our delight in each other, we say we are having a renaissance. I'm having an Amesessance (I AM ALLOWED TO BE A DORK. I HAVE NOTHING ELSE GOING FOR ME RIGHT NOW).

Hilarious vs. Hysterical

Hello, again, friends.

Twice in one day is not normal for me, but I can't let this one go any longer.

See the title of this post? See the two words in the title of this post?

They're not interchangeable.

When something is hilarious, it is very very funny. You can say "that movie was hilarious," or, "that Monica...she's the most hilarious person I've ever come across in my life! The hilarity she causes is so great, that there is nothing else to do but for me to name her the most hilarious person on earth."

Hysterical is an adjective. You are hysterical when you are unable to control yourself. You can laugh hysterically, but you can not say a movie was hysterical.

Sorry. You just can't.

Coma Plans, WYR, Other Things

it's been a while.

also, i don't feel like capitalizing today, so i'm not going to.

i guess the way i can do this best is to write down what i did this weekend, map out what i want to say based on that. sound good? good.

friday. friday was good. i went to see a friend of mine and his ridiculously adorable clown-like dog, and we played a game...an old fave of mine, "would you rather." my favorite thing about this game is picking out the raunchiest, most uncomfortable scenarios, and then forcing people to choose between them. for this reason, many people hate playing this game with me. my ex used to get angry with me, in fact, when (often drunkenly), i would give him one of these fake ultimatums.

my friend and i were really getting into it, and because he and i are very much alike (read: very self-absorbed), there were certain questions that really made us think. here is one of them: would you rather save the lives of five loved ones, or 1,000 strangers in another country (who knows why they had to be in another country). we both picked loved ones. then we changed it to this: would you rather save the lives of five people, and they'd never know it, or let 1,000 strangers die, and EVERYONE would know it. this one, for us, was more difficult. same end, but the difference was that in one, people would hate you. boy, of course, picked saving 1,000 people each time, no matter who knew it or not. he's like that. we're not.

then we met boy and two of my other, delightful, wonderful friends for a few drinks, and had a lovely time all around. i think. i may have drank a bit too much. i pet a great english bulldog mix while we were at the bar. (it was actually a really great weekend, dog-wise, for me). often it's awkward to hang out with friends that have never met, but it was far from it. good times.

saturday. bachelorette party. then we met up with the corresponding bachelor party. fun, but not a lot to say about it without putting anyone's shit on front street (i love that expression).

sunday. woke up. felt droopy. mopey. played with a dog. ate brunch way too late. watched ghostbusters. walked to a brooklyn neighborhood near ours, and saw the bastille day festivities. hit a bookstore for a while. i bought two books, one of which was jonathan ames' the alcoholic, tried to laugh a little. hung out with boy. he had a rough night at the bachelor party the night before.

we had dinner in the bastille-day neighborhood, and i started to get tired. i'd had...not a hangover, exactly, but a sense of sadness and malaise all day (does sadness mean the same thing as malaise? don't i teach english? wow). again, droopy and mopey. at dinner, a little boy sat next to us. he had two small stuffed animals named pablo and austin. he wanted to go home.

i asked boy a question. "if i were to go into a coma, would you secretly be a little bit happy that you could tell people you had a 'girlfriend in a coma?'" he said that he would not, and that even though he loves the smiths, he would be sad about my coma status. and that if he found any kernel of happiness in the whole sordid scene, it'd be that he could, in fact, tell people that he had a girlfriend in a coma.

then i asked him: if i was your wife, and i was in a coma, would you downplay our relationship so that you could say you had a girlfriend in a coma?

he said no, very quickly. i was happy.

then i reminded him of a deal that my friends have, that i've always wanted to get in on. i told him "don't forget to tell n&c to pluck my lip and chin hairs."

"your coma plans are extremely thought out," he told me.

"yes, of course they are. do you have any?"

he told me the only thing he wanted was for me to make sure that no one wrote all over him with a sharpie while he was in a coma.

"oh my god! is that a thing? do that to me, too," i said.

phew. good thing he hipped me to that.

anyway, as we were walking back home, i felt worse. sadder. mopey-er. spoke to my friend via IM, a little. he sounded sad and mopey, too.

right before bed was the worst. sad. lonely. droopy. mopey. sad sad sad. scared. alone.

boy just looked at me and said the most depressing/helpful words i'd heard in a while...
"sometimes i get that way after a rough weekend, too."

Ladies. All the Ladies. Louder Now. Help Me Out. Come On. All The Ladies.

I have been avoiding this motherfucker like the plague, these days! Every time I try to sit down and blogeroo, I think of four thousand other things to be doing. Usually I don't do those things, either, but that's none of y'alls damn business.

Sunday was a great day of hockey. We played a really wonderful team, and though we won (1-0), it was a scoreless game until four minutes left. It was a matchup of two of the best goalies in our league (and before someone I know has a hissy fit, I said two of the best, not the two best...), which always brings the level of play up.

But Saturday. Saturday I play in a morning pickup game with some people, and I have a bittersweet relationship with the whole deal. For instance, this week: a decent amount of people showed up, mainly men, as always. There were five girls there in total, and four of us were on the same team. Now, usually, certain dudes that we play with would have a freaking canary at the thought of splitting up the girls unevenly. They act like having someone who posesses a vagina on their team is a giant liability, and they like to split up the hazards. These people, obviously, are douchebags. Not just because they think this (there are SO many people that think this, I'm not stupid), but because they say this out loud in mixed company. But this time, the girls happened to be on the team with the nicer dudes, so no one really complained.

This shouldn't matter, but I would like to point out that though I am sadly not one of them, many of these girls run circles around the guys who complain the most. Stellar hockey players, some of my ladies.

What was interesting about this week, however, is that it was the first time I heard someone complain about having to play against the girls. Saying they didn't get a good enough game, simply because the women were all on one side, girls suck, penises rule, blahblahblahblahblah.

Yeah, I know, ladies. All in a day, right?

Pretty much.

Back to Sunday. After the game, most of my team went out to celebrate a bit. This is because my team is made up of spectacular people that I love so much. Gush, gush, gush. Anyway, after we'd been there for about an hour or so, we noticed a group of people come in and sit at a nearby booth. The group consisted of one very extremely loud, large, fratty wanna-be-guido type. Fat dude. Then there was his so-drunk-he-can-barely-standup friend, seemingly normal dude, and three girls. Two girls looked whorish but ok, and one looked like she was going to keel over at any point. She could barely keep her eyes open. I'm saying she was scarily drunk.

So my friends and I glance over. The first thing we notice is that the three dudes are having what seems to be a group hug, though we soon realize that the drunk girl is in the center of this "hug," which now looks like much more of a gangbang than a hug. We look at it askance, but we don't do anything about it. Possibly a mistake.

Drunk girl is wearing a cotton strapless tube dress. This becomes relevent later.

Boys keep dancing with drunk girl (it's not a dancey kind of place), and spinning her around. Boys dip her. It becomes apparant that the girl is not wearing underwear. My friends and I tell girl to watch her dress because it's riding up.

Girl goes to sit in an opposite booth from her "friends," by herself. My people tell girl it is possibly time to go home. My people tell girl's female "friends" it is possibly time to take girl home. Female friends do not listen, girl attempts to leave by herself.

I go outside to watch girl, and to possibly put her in a cab if need be. Girl can not find her wallet.

One of her "friends" comes running out, saying she found Girl's wallet in the pocket of large fat fratboy. He had taken it in an attempt to stop her from leaving. Girl and Girl's friend begin hugging and crying, and I go back inside, disgusted.

Girl comes back inside a few minutes later. Sits at the booth alone again. One of the boys unsnapps her strapless bra from the back, removes it. Another unzipps his shorts, pulls out his penis, pushes it in girl's face.

This all goes down quietly, but Filthy Gorgeous (my team) sees the whole thing. We spring into action. First, girls. My tiny friend DK runs up to giant fat fratboy. He mentions the word "rape." She pushes him. He pushes her back.

It's immediately on. My team defends each other's honor, and that of drunk girl. They finally leave. Or get kicked out. The bartender intervenes, is disgusted by events and the fact that she hasn't seen any of this go down (like I said, it all happened quietly).

Afterwards, DK asks me if I think girl wound up ok. I answer her honestly.
"No."

A Big Week For Me; Puppy Porn

Despite the fact that, like Ron Burgundy, I've been living in a glass cage of emotion this week, there's several things going on that I'm excited about. First and foremost being that I'm getting my pupster in a few weeks. I can't WAIT to have a dog. As I've been told before, my biological clock is certainly barking. In consideration now:

• A rescue mutt of any kind, medium size (Boy's favorite idea right now. Bu this "of any kind" business freaks me out a bit...you don't ever know what you're getting. But I love mutts. And I love the idea of a rescue).
• A boxer (so lovey! They are prone to fatal health problems, though, and I want my pupster to be around for a long while).
• A French Bulldog (ahhh, oui. I am somewhat against trendy dogs, but that's just Martha Stewart's fault, no one else's. And I admit, I've never thought about the Frenchie thing before. But I am head over heels in love with one right now, and he's really just the best pooch ever).
• A mastiff (my favorite forever, and yes, I know, not practical).
• A pittbull terrier (ditto).

Help, Naked Readers. Not that I'm not doing my own reasearch. Every day I look at what my friend calls "puppy porn."

And yes, there are other things happening right now, good, bad, and confusing, but this is all I choose to get into right now.

Later.

Kid Me, Not x365, Temporary Giddiness

I've got that feeling I get sometimes. The one where it's possible that I'm feeling really good and motivated and ready to write, but it's also possible that I just had too much coffee.

Have you ever had that feeling that you miss....something? But you're not sure what it is? Yeah. I miss that.

Usually, "that" = NOLA, or a former fuck (I've learned my family reads this. Heh. That'll teach ya), or getting high, or...something I can put my finger on that used to make me happy.

(heehee..."put my finger on.")

But this time, it's not that. I feel kind of like something's missing (surprise), but I also feel a little spring-timey hopeful. As if something good's about to happen. Which will ROCK, 'cause I need that.

Here's a Not x365:

#15 I drive you batty, but you do the same to me. You have the ability to produce both rage and affection in me, which, you know, is a good thing, 'cause it means you're important. Which you are, so don't forget that. I wish I had been a better friend to you when you needed me, but I'm trying my best to do that now. Just don't push it. KIDDING (had to say that I was kidding). You can push it a little bit. Next time I see your dog, we will look at each other awkwardly, mumble hello, and turn away from each other. Happy Tuesday. I love you.

Here's a kid-me thing:


Click on it and tilt your head. It's worth it.

LDTB!