Joyful and triumphant.

I was kind of a Scrooge with my "war on Christmas" post, so I thought I'd post some nice holiday things. 

And finally...

AHH! SO CUTE!!!!

And on that note:

Under the sea...

Hah, so, the other day I found something and I wanted to share because it's just so funny and terrible and indicative of who I am as a person.

I love sea animals. Sea mammals in particular--whales, dolphins, seals, walruses, narwhals, and manatees, to be specific.

Well when I was a wee lass, in first grade, our teacher taught us about manatees. As a class, we adopted a manatee from Blue Springs then took a field trip to go see him (just for kicks, his name was Howie, and he is still there. I now feel like I need to go visit him.). ANYWAY, as part of this whole lesson on sea cows, we had to sculpt one out of clay and make a diorama, like out of a shoe box or whatever.

My Mom heard that we had to do some kind of artistic project and immediately panicked, and rightly so. Because my artistic skills rival that of a four year old who was actually born with two left hands. So she bought play-doh and we practiced. And in her words, "The first one looked like a poop. So I said, 'No, Mary, try again.' So we smashed it and I showed you how to pinch out a flat tail and flippers." Do you want to see the end result?

That's a retorical question. The brilliance of blogging is that your readers are a captive audience. YOU HAVE TO SEE THE END RESULT!

LOL, omg, so I obviously thought that since I had practiced, I was the Michelangelo of Model Magic and made not one, but TWO manatees. I think this is what I was going for:

FAIL. 

Also, I'm so proud of this little morbid detail. We discussed in class how manatees were endangered because of motor boats hitting them and injuring them. So, naturally, I glommed onto that disgusting bit of imagery and added it to my sculpture. 

It's also missing a flipper and its tail has been glued back on, but that's just due to it being OLD not because of my 6 year old creativity.

Also, I just wanted to show you its horrifyingly skull-like face. Wtf, little self. 

And, this is the really insane part: I WON something for this! I got second place, I think, at the school's art fair. I'm not sure what that says about the school's art judging system, but it's probably not good. 

Anyway, that's where my love of manatees started. Because I know you were all BURNING with curiosity. ;)

This is a little ickier than things I normally post, but BEAR WITH ME.

My first thought upon viewing this image

was that from henceforth, "that time of the month" shall be known as SHARK WEEK.

Sea water runs through her veins.

Sometimes I'm just in awe of the ocean. I like to chalk it up to being a Pisces and all that, but there's just something...

Whew!

So, the Halloween thing was really fun, but if any of you have ever tried to post something for 31 days, you know it's a little exhausting. And harder than I thought it would be to come up with interesting content.

It'll be nice to just be able to blog about regular boring old Mary stuff again. But I really wanted to do that, mostly to prove to myself that I could actually start and finish something. It IS possible. Not probable, but possible.

Here's just a little update about what my life's looked like in the last month:

-They started work on our house! Finally! The flood only happened in August, and now we're finally getting some work underway. Demo was kind of disastrous. But that's the nature of DEMOLITION, I suppose. Anyway, when they were ripping out the tile and the cabinets the mold was unbelievable. And whoever laid the tile in the house before, for some WEIRD reason, put a whole layer of felt beneath the tile. So it got soaking wet in the flood, and it was pretty much, by the time they ripped it out, a layer of sopping mold underneath our floors. And the mold behind and under the cabinets was rampant and disgusting--climbing up the walls and stuff. That, coupled with the obvious dust of destroying tile and drywall and whatnot, have been HELL for my asthma. I sort of sound like I have a perpetual smoker's cough.

The guys we have working here are AWESOME. They've been working with us on housey stuff for years--since before we moved into this house. They're really dedicated and they've been busting their butts trying to get everything done in a correct and timely manner. So far: cabinets are mostly in, tile has been laid (but not grouted), and they're hoping to start painting tomorrow. When it's all done, I'll post before and after pics. It'll be super nice when it's all finished.


-I don't know how many people know this, but about 6 months ago I decided I was like 98% sure that I wanted to teach high school English--preferably 11th and 12th grade Brit lit and AP lit (ha ha, like we get a choice). I fought against the idea of being a teacher FOREVER because, as those of you who knew me in my high school days well remember, I was quite the anti-establishment, anti-school girl. Ooooooh the irony of it all. But anyway, for reasons I probably won't get into right now but I promise will come up again later, I really feel like this is where I'm being pulled right now. Which is totally cool with me.

So here's the weird part.

I'm in this education class that requires us to have 15 hours of service-learning, which means we have to go shadow and semi-participate in a classroom. Luckily, my AMAZING 9th and 10th grade English teacher heard about this and literally just offered to let me come and hang out in her classroom, coming and going as I pleased. I was super nervous, because just driving around my alma mater is enough to give me a near panic attack just because of how much I abhorred the place. However, it is going SURPRISINGLY well! I get to shadow a couple of 10th grade English classes (reliving the entire time, btw, certain assigments and projects and books that I had to work on when I took the class six years ago), and a couple of the AP language and lit classes. It has been AMAZING.

I've been struggling over "what to do when I grow up" since I was like 13. No lie. And I have been in just about every field that it is possible for me to work in (journalism, creative writing, accounting...the list goes on), and none of it really felt right. It always felt like the whole square peg in a round hole thing. And for some reason I can't quite explain, sitting in the classroom and viewing it from a TOTALLY different adult perspective...it just seems right. I really hope everything works out for it, because it's the ONLY profession I've considered yet that makes me excited. Everything else was like, "meh, if it pays the rent." Well, teaching will barely pay the rent but I've always been of the mentality that I'd rather be poor and happy than rich and otherwise. Ideally, I'd like to be rich AND happy, but how many people do you know who've managed to pull that off?


-Bixby is doing well. He's a good boy. His little personality is developing and I'm learning more and more how to deal with him (relationships with dogs are like relationships with people; it takes time to figure out how to respond to each one differently). I was so used to dealing with Sassy and all her little nuances, probably just because she'd always been a fixture since I was five. It's taken me longer to bond and figure out exactly what Bix is all about. But I love him to death. He's a LOT more easygoing than Sassy was. Sassy only liked you on her terms or when you had food. Bixby loves you all the time--no matter what. He's a lot more easygoing (I can dress him up, throw him in a bicycle basket, take him for car rides...Sassy didn't put up with any of that unless there was a copious amount of food involved) and smoochy than Sassy was. He loves to cuddle and kiss and be held, but he's not needy. I mean, he is, in that "I'm still a puppy/baby, look at me" way. But I think once he matures and mellows out, he'll be a great balance of cuddly and laid back. Plus, one gets used to having dogs following you around all the time. It's nice to have someone to do that again.

I am enjoying him very much.


-School is going well. I'm actually really enjoying this semester. It's just enough work that I'm kept quite busy, but not so much that I'm swamped. I really feel like I can put forth my best efforts in papers and such, which always makes me feel more accomplished. I've been reading a lot. Or re-reading. I read Wuthering Heights for the fifth or sixth time (can't remember, but WHO CARES, it's so good!), Jane Eyre for the fourth time, Hamlet for the third time. I think what makes great literature great is that it is timeless, throughout generations and lifetimes. I can read Jane Eyre three times and every time I read it, something else sticks out to me. Like, before, when I read I was really stricken by gender roles and how progressive, really, Bronte (through Jane) was when it came to feminism. This time around I was able to notice more of the idea of foreignness or "the other." It's just interesting to me. Which I guess is why I'm a lit major.

Expect some book/story/play reviews here sometime in the future. And if you're really good, I might even illustrate them for you. =)


-I just want you all to know that the upcoming holiday season will not be met with the same fervent enthusiasm as Halloween here in the Sea of Snark. I went into a store today, nearly vomitted to discover that 90% of the merchandise was Christmas-related, heard that god-awful, obnioux Mariah Carey "All I Want for Christmas Is You" song, and decided that today, November 2nd, I am officially done with it all.


-Someone, presumably at UCF, sideswept my car and ran off. Jackass. They dented and scraped the side pretty bad, so now I look like your stereotypical bad woman driver. I have no idea how much it'll cost to fix it. That coupled with all the body work from previous scrapes and boo-boo's ought to be a hefty little sum. JOY.


-This is the last point. I rescued a dog the other day. I was driving along Chapman and saw him just lying there on the side of the road. I turned around (illegally, I'm pretty sure) and drove back to him. I couldn't just keep driving. My heart was already broken for him. So I go back and park the car, taking my mace just in case its rabid or something, and go to see him. He was, what looked to me, like a boxer-pitt bull mix. He was SUPER thirsty and drooly, but not injured as far as I could tell. So I gave him some water (luckily I had a bucket in my trunk...I have NO IDEA WHY, but who cares. It was PERFECT!) and decided to try and take him home. It was late, and all the animal shelters were closed; I didn't want to just leave him on the side of the road where he'd almost certainly get hit by a car. On the other hand, I knew I couldn't do anything with him once I got home. Our garage is full (literally) with construction stuff, our back porch has massive holes in the screen, our yard isn't fenced, and I sure as hell wasn't bringing a strange dog into the house where he could potentially hurt the other dogs. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I probably wasn't. But I tried to get him into my car. The poor thing was EXHAUSTED. He could barely stand. I had to entice him with my dinner to come closer to me and the car and then I hoisted him (all like 100 lbs of him...oy.) inside. I got him home, let him out, and gave him some more water. I tried to get him to come close to me, but once he'd rested and had some water, he was pretty insistent on NOT coming anywhere near me. I tried to get a leash around his neck. Forget it. He bolted. And I mean, that dog could RUN. So I sat there in my driveway calling out to this dog (I kept alternating between calling him "Pup" and "Bob." My neighbors all kept looking at me funny), trying to get him not to run back up to the main road. I brought out some expired lunch meat we had in the fridge and gave it all to him. He ate it pretty voraciously. He was so scared of people, and his neck and torso were all scarred. I'm pretty sure he was abused pretty badly. Anyway, my parents got in late and were NOT too pleased with my new acquisition. We all decided that the best thing to do was to just let him roam free. If he was still there in the morning, we'd call animal control. Otherwise, he'd just be off and maybe someone with the property to contain him would keep him.

Oh, he was totally still there in the morning, patrolling our yard. All the neighbors freaked out and kept saying they were going to call Animal Control. I looked up the Humane Society and SPCA, but they don't accept stray dogs. So then it was like, "Okay. If someone is going to call Animal Control for this guy, it might as well be me." So we called and they came out, got him, and carted him off. The people confirmed my suspicions and said he was exhibiting classic abused dog behavior.

I have no idea what happened to him. I hope they were able to get him checked out by a vet and started into some rehabilition program for abused pitt bulls. There are a LOT of them in the area because pitt bulls are so often mistreated and misjudged. Hopefully someone came by and got him and, with a lot of work and training, he'll be adoptable. He was a cute little dog. Just so sad...

It's not exactly the way I wanted it to work out, but these acts of "heroicism" are never as easy in person as they are on paper. Rescuing stray dogs to no apparent avail; the promise not to abandon old friends and lovers even though it happens anyway; random acts of kindness that go unrewarded or worse, are met with aversion...it's no wonder people think that heroics and good deeds are dead.

For my part, I think I'll continue performing them in whatever small ways I can. After all, if everything was easy, life would be terribly boring. :)

"A wise man knows how little he knows."

In reference to the above fish...

(For future reference, they're called LIONFISH. And yes, it's one word.)

This is the reason our friendship works. One of us has all the questions and the other has all the answers, even though she's making them all up. *_~


Will be coming home tomorrow and hopefully posting will return to normal...or as normal as it ever is here in the Sea of Snark. Pics to come of the Fort Myers expedition! Hope you're all having a lovely week so far!

I can't go out. *cough cough* I'm sick.

BOO YOU WHORE.



This may well be my favorite movie line of all time. DON'T JUDGE. IT'S NOT CONFESSION TIME RIGHT NOW.


So last night was HIDEOUS. I felt terrible at work (not something I recommend doing. Ever.) and ended up vomitting like that girl from "The Exorcist" all over the back room.

Needless to say, I think I have the flu.

So last night, as I feverishly followed Winkin, Blinkin and Nod, I made a list of things that were going through my mind, because I knew they'd be a hoot in the morning light.

Oh, Subconcious, you never fail to disturb amuse me.


-I think the main reason I so disliked Seinfeld at first is because the show is so dark. Not thematically, but like, lighting-wise. Some of the earlier seasons just look SKETCHY. We're very used to pretty lights (think the Apple Store, or the new Star Trek), and Seinfeld's apartment is just plain DINGY. I can't appreciate humor when I'm wondering if a $10 hooker is gonna show up from the back room.

^^Exhibit A of our affinity for brightly lit places. Captain Kirk cannot do SCIENCY AWESOME STUFF in the dark, you guys.

-Speaking of Seinfeld, what did they do with his apartment set after the show finished? Where is it? Did they dismantle it? Auction it off? Is it sitting in a backlot in Hollywood someplace? Is it in a museum?

-Also speaking of Seinfeld, I am very disturbed by all the "new" sitcoms coming to the CW this fall. If they Conan Seinfeld, I will Chris Brown the CW.


-This was not on my list, but I miss Conan. A lot. And now he has a show ON CABLE. THANKS, COCO.

-Also, OMG, STOP comparing Lindsay Lohan and Robert Downey Jr. I will scream if I hear this comparison made one more time. Okay, here's the thing. RDJ actually SERVED his time in prison. I'm betting LL will pull a Paris and spend like, 8 nights there. Then, when he got out, he STILL wasn't better. He had to get to that place HIMSELF. And that takes guts I just don't think Lindsay has. Not yet. She might get there, and I hope she does, because I do think she has a smidgen of talent. Not as much as the media says, but it IS there. And I don't want her to die or anything. Just...STOP, okay? It's not the same.

-What is "Despicable Me" about?? Why "despicable?" What's the plot? Who are the little yellow Mr. Blick's in goggles and overalls? Steve Carrell? WHAT IS THIS MOVIE ABOUT?!? WHAT!!!WHAT!!!!

-On a very serious note, all this oil spill stuff is making me SO angry. I can't even really get into it, because I think it'd be a whole other blog post. But it just makes me want to cry that the ILLUSTRIOUS powers that be are doing NOTHING to help this crisis. Because it IS a crisis. And it's global. For now, it's local. But do you REALLY think that if nothing is done, and that STUPID HOLE keeps chugging out THOUSANDS of barrells of oil a day that it ISN'T going to affect the global market eventually? NOT TO MENTION, Y'KNOW, THE OCEAN!??! It just really makes me angry. Maybe it's because I grew up 40 minutes away from the ocean in any direction, but I feel a really special connection to the seas and stuff, and I'm OUTRAGED that so little is being done. It's only a matter of time, guys, and WAY too much has been wasted already.

I'm looking up VALID ways to help out, and once I conclude my research, I'll post my findings here.


Sorry that ended on such a depressing note. Hmm. OH I KNOW. Here's a video I can't believe I wasn't aware of until I saw it on Jimmy Fallon last night.



THIS is one of those things I spent about 15 minutes SOLID cracking up over, and I don't think it will ever NOT be funny. Kinda like the Sneezing Panda. Ahh...laughter is the best medicine, you know.

Concerning hobbits pugs.

So up until two days ago I knew NOTHING about pugs except that they are really cute and supposedly energetic and hilarious.

All of which are 100% true.

I loves me some flat-faced bulldog breeds, but part of my reticence with pugs is the fact that they're not related to bulldogs at all, despite the flat faces. They're more related to Shih-Tzu's and Pekinese. And I'm like "meh" about both of those breeds.

Here's what I didn't know.

They're actually most closely related to English Mastiffs. Like Hagrid's dog Fang. This makes total sense, because if you blew a pug up like 10 times, it'd be a mastiff. Fawn fur, black face, tail. Everything. That's HARDCORE.

Yet. Like the bully breeds that I so love, they have that stocky build--heavy in the shoulders, square head, flat face and what I call "the mushroom nose." Observe.



SAME, Y/Y??? Sassy had an adorable mushroom nose, and so does Bixby. I LOVE IT.

Also, loads of famous powerful people throughout history had pugs. Like Genghis Khan (LOL), Marie Antoinette, Josephine and Napoleon (she used her pug, Fortune, to send secret messages to Napoleon. THAT IS AWESOME), Voltaire, Queen Victoria (who had like, 25), Winston Churchill, Andy Warhol and Valentino (not really an emperor. Just in fashion. WHICH COUNTS). JUST to name a few. A pug supposedly saved the life of William the Silent (lol, it would suck to be known for being SILENT). They were popular with sailors and pirates for their antics and trade-ability ("I'll give you this flintlock if you give me that ridiculous looking animal").

Some ridiculous art featuring pugs:







Valentino, "The Last Emperor," and his pugs.



And of course, my favorite. Kirsten Dunst as Marie Antoinette and her pug. :)


No, I don't think I'll start running around in powdered wigs and lugging Bixby with me everywhere. Still.

Now you're all educated! YAY FOR LEARNING.

Feed the birds.

I'd like to introduce you to my neighbors.


Allow me to introduce the resident blue jay, who calls himself Julius Jagger (yes, as in Mick from the Rolling Stones). I've heard his true name is unpronouncable, so predictably, he went with a "J" name. He's the rockstar of the neighborhood. He's as proud of his plumage as he is messy and loud. When he's feeding, all others best stay away until he's finished. Even the squirrels defer to his charisma. Dustie and Renica (below) will sometimes sit on the ground nearby, gossipping and eating what food he drops. I think they're fangirls. He loves it.



Bartholomew Wallingsford is a red-winged blackbird. He's very mysterious. He often keeps to himself and feeds alone. The other birds (save the cardinals) seem leery of him, perhaps because of his dark color and seemingly dark nature. He's often associated with Grackles (aka: your common blackbirds), but he's clearly not. He's got the red badge of courage, a family crest...all of that.



I can't tell if this is Sasha or Sinead...I call them Sasha and Sinead Thrasher, even though I don't know if they're actually sisters. They're new here. What I do know is that Sasha and Sinead have taken up residence in a bush at the front of the house, and both of them have built nests in the bush. It's extremely unusual for two birds to nest in such close proximity. Both are Brown Thrashers, but whether they're sisters or close roomates remains to be revealed.


Here's Sasha's nest. She hasn't laid her eggs yet. Neither has Sinead, but her nest is a few branches over. They're EXTREMELY protective. They holler and flap their wings in your face if you get too close! I hope my taking pictures didn't scare her and Sinead off to nest someplace else. It'd be so exciting to have baby Thrashers!


This is Mr. Sebastian Redfeather. His wife, Carlotta, isn't pictured but she's usually at the feeder with him. They talk to Dustie and Renica (below), and occasionally Bartholomew when he's feeling greagarious.


These are Dustie and Renica, two girl mourning doves who just sit around ad gossip all day whilst eating seed. They're incredibly nosy and know everything about everyone. Despite that, they're very skittish and mostly keep their secrets to themselves.

Dustie's more the ham of the two. As evidenced by her dancing feet:

Dustie's like, "I SEE YOU THERE, CREEPER MARY, TAKING CREEPTACULAR PAPARAZZI PICS. DO NOT WANT."





This is my favorite. His name is Sir Tucker Twittercheep. He's a tufted titmouse, and very shy, but he occasionally frequents my window feeder to say "Good evening," when Millie's squirrel has abandoned its post (it has seriously moved onto my windowsill. It sleeps there and everything.). He's extremely chivalrous and is often off doing other noble deeds. Very shy, but most regal. I'm honored by his presence.




Those are my neighbors! I'm hoping to have a painted bunting and perhaps some goldfinches move in sometime. Even though finch season is over. Sometimes there are still stragglers as late as June. :)

Gratuitous lizard sex.

I always feel bad when I get to my car and this is happening on it. Like maybe I should just come back later when they're done. I'd certainly hate to be in their position(s) and have someone be like, "Excuse me, I need to go someplace, could you please move?" Although I doubt very highly I would engage in such activities on top of someone's primary mode of transportation. Still.

Millie vs. The Squirrel

Okay, so I'm an armchair ornithologist (among other things). I adore birds and bird feeding. So I have a window feeder that I've had up for about seven months and only JUST recently had birds starting coming to it. It's migration/mating season, so bird traffic is pretty heavy.

Well, this morning, I had a very humorous series of events take place that I managed to get on camera and wanted to share with you.


Exhibit A: the now crooked window feeder


Exhibit B: The Squirrel who discovered my feeder was a magical wellspring of seeds and deliciousness (the way he's holding his paw worries me...I hope he didn't injure it. He might just be holding some seed or something).


Exhibit C: Michael's usually completely useless dog, Millie. Millie is something of a space cadet. She whimpers at the sight of anything coming towards her, gets scared of her toys and blankets, and will literally spend 20-30 minutes at a time staring off into space. She also counts out all her pieces of food before she eats them. I wish I was making this stuff up, but I'm not quite that creative.

So The Squirrel notices the bird feeder is full of seeds and wow, there's a window sill right there for him to sit on. Millie happened to notice and went BANANAS over the fact that there is a bushy-tailed rodent sitting on HER window (and by her, I mean mine).

He comes sneaking up, and she's LIVID, whining and crying and scratching the glass.





Of course, he wasn't deterred by her at all. Isn't he cute?!?





This is pretty much what she's been doing for the rest of the day. Silly Millie.

Anyway, just thought I'd share. :)

And now for something completely different.

-Fashion inspired by "Rear Window." If you haven't seen this movie, get off this blog and get to Netflix or Youtube RIGHT NOW.

-I found this analysis of Tribbles vs. Guinea Pigs extremely useful (I almost named Sherman "Tribble," btw). Useful, but mostly amusing.

-Speaking of Sherman, this is one BIG ASS guinea pig.

Also, a humorous bit of UCF Fail for your entertainment (click to enlarge):



That is all.

Nobody puts Mary in the corner.

Here are a couple of videos to share with you while I work on making a REAL post.


At first her voice really grated on me. Now I love this song. Mostly I just think it's visual decadence. I want to run around her nifty 80's-futuristic-geometric set.


This is my cousin--no joke. If you like the song, you should go to iTunes and buy it.

In other news, my life is wasting away while I sit here and read nonsensical stuff day after day.
Okay, so it's not entirely nonsensical. I just fail to find Caleb Williams very interesting, and doubt you would too.

Anyway...whine whine whine about school, sorry for this BS excuse of a blog update, and hopefully within the next day or so I can have something decent up here. I've got loads of ideas swimming around up there...


{PS! Some of you might have noticed that I have an icon on the right-hand side of the screen for Freekibble.com. It's a really awesome charity. You just go to their website, answer the trivia question, and right or wrong they donate 10 pieces of kibble to an animal shelter for hungry dogs. They also have a site for kitties. But it's such an easy way to help a suffering animal that there's no excuse NOT to do it.}

Sweet dreams are made of these.

Hey there, bloggity blogworld.

Recently, I have been been indulging in a very sick and vivid fantasy. Hang on to your purity rings, kids.

This little fantasy of mine begins with me driving down the road on my way home from work or school, probably singing lousily to pop music (indulging another fantasy WITHIN a fantasy...I told you this was sick) as I am wont to do when driving. So I'm just minding my own business, and the roads are pretty clear (because minimal traffic in Orlando is CLEARLY the stuff of fantasies. If I can't have it in real life, it's happening in my daydreams, dammit!). Just driving...la la la...and then, a ways up ahead on the side of the road I spot something. Why, it looks like an animal. I slow down a bit and as I get closer I realize that it is INDEED an animal. And a really cute one. With a limp. I slow down and pull over and get out to inspect said animal and it turns out to be an Old English Bulldog with a hurt paw. I am overwhelmed with the cuteness and sympathy for the situation and upon realizing the dog is both friendly and rabies-free, I do my best to either lift it (if it's not too heavy, but those suckers can weigh a lot) or assist it back to my car, and I put it in the front seat. Right next to me. Where Sassy used to sit. Only she's not upset about this at all, because she knows I take good care of injured animals. ANYWAY.

Since I'm close to home I decide to go there (for those of my local readers, I imagine this taking place on Chapman Road, which has both good grassy side parts for the dog to walk on and close proximity to my home). And I get out and bring it in and Millie and ChiChi are like, "Whoa, wtf?" and my mom is all aww-ing over it. So we take it to the vet to get it checked out. And he tells us that he seems healthy apart from the injured paw (I haven't decided yet if this is like the old "thorn in the paw" trick or a hurt bone or tendon. IT DOESN'T MATTER. I just love coddling hurt animals), and seems to be about 3-4 years old. We bring him home to care for him and decide that we should probably put out "FOUND DOG" signs, just in case this is someone's dog. Besides, if someone had found Sassy I would've wanted them to at least make an effort.

So for one week I am incredibly hesitant about getting close to the dog. I just change its bandages and feed it and don't cuddle it even though I want to really really bad. And I probably cry a lot during this week. And nobody responds to the "FOUND DOG" posters and adverts. Enter week two of trying to find its home. Nobody responds. I'm starting to get hopeful at this point, because the dog is so sweet and nice and potty-trained (this is MY fantasy, okay?) and gets along with Millie and Cheech. And so then FINALLY it ends up that no one responds and I can keep him. And I name him either Shakespeare or Jasper (because "Jazz/Jazzy" is the CUTEST nickname EVER). And he sleeps in my room, on the floor so as not to messy my sheets, and we live happily ever after.



This is my deep and sordid fantasy. The purity ring comment was clearly a joke.