Tag Archives: dogs

The Difference Between Me and Eric

Eric: “The woman breeding our future puppy was so nice when I spoke to her on the phone, and she really just breeds for the love of it– in fact, once the dog is ours she wants us to keep her updated on how he’s doing, because she cares that much about each of her pups, she just likes to know what they’re up to. How nice is that?”

Me: “You mean we have to keep talking to her?”

Etiquette

Given the tagline of this blog, or what anyone can decipher from reading no less than three random posts, etiquette is not really my thing. I just don’t know the rules, and somehow I’ve reached age 35 without developing any kind of learned or innate sense for them. So help me out here.

Eric and I received a card from people who attended our wedding. We are prettttttty sure, given the wording of the card, and given who these people are, that they meant to include a check, but forgot.

Now, to be clear, it’s not that we’re so concerned with getting a gift, we just think these people would want to know if they forgot to send it. Right?

Also we want our fucking gift.

No no jk. Seriously, it’s the first reason I said.

So what’s the next step here? We considered calling them and being like, “Hey, cool card! I think the money fell out!” but there’s still that 5% chance they purposely chose to not give a gift.

Here are some ideas we’ve come up with:

  1. Write them a thank you card for their card.
  2. Split Uber fares with them until we’ve totaled the amount we’re pretty sure they would’ve given us.
  3. Have another wedding and let them try again.
  4. Instead of posting this post, “accidentally” email it to them.
  5. If doing #4, erase #4. And #5.
  6. Buy a corgi, send a thank you card for said corgi, include receipt for corgi, along with this emoji img_3482. When they call us to be like “Um, we didn’t buy you a corgi,” be like “You didn’t? The corgi guy said it was from you! Sorry, what DID you get us?” and when they’re like, “We sent a check,” we’ll be like, “Ohhh, funny thing, we actually got a card from you and there was no check in it!” and then we all laugh and they re-send a check and we pay for the corgi ourselves.
  7. Do #6, but if instead of saying “We sent a check” they say “We gave you a card,” say “WELL NOW YOU GOT US A CORGI TOO, MOTHERFUCKERS!” and hang up. Laugh maniacally. Stroke corgi.
  8. Post this post, have everyone who sent us a card wonder if they are the subjects of it. Field many texts.

My Own Personal Sex Education

Most people learn about erections in sex ed.

Here’s how I learned

One day in elementary school, I was home alone with Manolita, our nanny at the time.

Manolita spoke limited English and, to put it mildly, was not the sharpest tool in the shed. No, I’m not being an asshole and suggesting the two go hand in hand– I’m just presenting each one as two separate facts that are important to the story (and if you get to the end of this story and still want to argue that Manolita was not intellectually challeneged, then may god have mercy on your soul.)

So Manolita and I are watching some soap operas when Sammy, our family dog (a yellow lab, the best dog in the world, may he rest in peace) began making sweet love to an oversized pink stuffed animal bear that one of my siblings had won at a carnival. This was not unusual practice for Sammy, a puppy at the time, and I always marveled at how sticky that pink bear became after Sammy had his way with it– “So much slobber coming out of your mouth, Sam!”

To be clear, I got that what the dog was doing to the stuffed animal was something vaguely sexual, but I had ZERO understanding of any of the details that go along with such an act.

Which leads us to the following.

Manolita and I are deeply settled into an episode of Days of Our Lives when I glance over to Sammy’s pink bear humpfest, and notice something has gone horribly, horribly awry.

“Oh my god! Manolita!!!! The dog’s penis is inside out!!!”

Manolita turned, looked at the dog, and– I shit you not– FREAKED THE FUCK OUT.

“Sammy! Sammy! No, Sammy, no no no no! What is wrong, Sammy!? He need hospital!!!!! Penis! Hospital! PENIS!”

Well, the second my assigned caregiver screams “hospital, penis!,” I’m naturally going to panic. The dog’s penis was inside-out, and he was licking it furiously (obviously desperately trying to make it go right-side-in again) and if I didn’t act quickly, he was going to lose his penis and possibly his life.

So I called my mother’s car phone. Yeah– not cell phone– CAR phone. That’s where we are in time, guys.

She picked up, mid drive, on speaker phone.

Mom: “Hello?”
Me: “Mom!!!!!!!! It’s Em!!!! HELP! THE DOG’S PENIS IS INSIDE OUT!!!!!!”

She hung up the phone immediately. I would find out later that night that my mom, a real estate agent, had a client in the car at the time, and was escorting said client to a house that she very much hoped to sell to her. My phone call did not make for a comfortable journey. Pretty sure Mom never sealed that deal.

Meanwhile, panicked and not taking my mom’s refusal to speak to me as a sign that I was being RIDICULOUS (and please keep in mind, this entire time, the nanny is screaming “the penis is bleed!!!”), I then called my dad at the office.

Dad: “Hello?”
Me: “DAD!!!!! THE DOG’S PENIS IS INSIDE OUT!!!!!”
Dad: “What?”
Me: “HIS PENIS!!!!! HE WAS PLAYING WITH THE PINK BEAR AND THEN HIS PENIS TURNED INSIDE OUT AND HE’S LICKING IT AND IT WON’T GO BACK THE RIGHT WAY!!!!!”
Dad: “Oh.” (chuckle….long pause) “The dog has a boner.”

And I was never the same.

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An Open Letter to the Dog Playing Piano Upstairs

shih-tzu

Dear Dog Playing Piano in My Upstairs Neighbor’s Apartment,

I can only assume you are a dog, at least. It’s the only explanation for the current assault on my ears (and music in general)– that a canine is upstairs desperately trying to work an instrument that is clearly made for humans. There is no other scenario in which a piano could make THAT unpleasant a sound. When I played piano, back in my early youth, even I did a better job than what is happening up there, and trust me when I say I was quite horrible. Even the day I puked all over the keys, my instructor, and my instructor’s fancy work suit (causing him to silently stand up and walk out of my home, never to return), I did better than what you’re doing up there, you goofy, delusional shih-tzu (there’s no question you are a shih-tzu, as they are THE WORST).

But, I will throw you this bone (Hah! Get it?!)– I am totally impressed by your ability to scream “god dammit!” or “fuck!” every time your paw slips on a key (which, coincidentally, is every time your paw moves at all).

Cursing is a cool human trick. Maybe stick to that one and lay off the piano.

Love,

Your Downstairs Neighbor Who is Home Sick but Now Actually Wishes She Was At Work