Meet The Simple Dog

On Christmas Eve last year, my boyfriend left the house to go pick up my present. He made up a crazy story, so I expected he was half joking and would walk back in with a wrapped box from his truck. When he finally turned up 20 minutes later, he told me to close my eyes, so I did. A gal who never wants to ruin her surprises, I kept them shut tight until I felt a little weight and some warmth on my lap.

I opened my eyes and saw the droopy little face I'd been eyeing for months. My friends had been fostering a little pup for a couple of months, and I'd give J the "PLEASE, OH PLEASE?!" look every time we'd visit, hoping we could adopt him. When I realized he was actually my gift, I was so surprised that J later told me he wasn't sure I was excited. I was.

We shortly considered Copper, but Cooper rolled off the tongue and reminded me of a certain silver-topped journalist. It wasn't long before ol' Coop started to show us his funny ways, and that is when I dubbed him The Simple Dog, thanks to Miss. Allie Brosh over at Hyperbole and a Half.

See, it's not that he couldn't learn tricks or that he didn't know the word "No." He just wandered around rooms aimlessly, tried to squeeze himself inside every nook and cranny he could find, and he would bump into literally anything in his path. It was funny and gave him this little charm I couldn't help loving, but it didn't take us long to get his ass to the vet.

It was there we discovered that he had worms and a heart murmur. This dingbat of a doctor told us to go see a specialist, but I thought logically, "Hey! Don't most growing things get heart murmurs? Couldn't worms give him a murmur?" It took one Google search to find out I was right. As soon as he was treated for the worms, a whole new dog emerged and the murmur was gone. Said doctor was also kicked to the curb.

This new side of Coop was still just as hilarious, but now in a little less of a "I'm worried about him" way and more in a "You're kind of like the Andy Kaufman of dogs" way. He would bound up the stairs and run on the couch like a maniac one second, but flop onto the bed after playing with a tennis ball for five seconds. He learned some new tricks and started talking like a Wookie when he didn't get his way. He made us laugh like crazy, and I fell so deep in love with the goof.

Something was still afoot with the little lad, a conclusion we made after finding rogue blood in the backyard. Tests and lots of money later, we found out he had a congenital liver disease that could only be cured with a surgery we did not (and still don't) have the money for. He was put on medicine that he can never stop taking.

That was early this year. Here we are, on Simple Dog's Gotcha Day, and he's just as goofy as ever. He's actually pretty healthy for a technically sick boy, and until he shows signs otherwise, he's stuck with me. I couldn't imagine not having his droopy face poke me in the nose every morning.

He has taught me a lot about myself, and how to grow up. He's shown me what it's like to simultaneously want to strangle and hug another living being. He has gotten me through a really hard and unexpected time with actual puppy hugs. Cooper is my little Forest Gump, because he might not be the smartest man, but he sure as hell knows what love is.

Happy Gotcha Day, Bear. You are absolutely the best Christmas present I've ever gotten.

Brush Thrice A Day

Welcome back, everyone! I had an awesome Christmas vacation, and you can check out my recap here, but it's time to get back to the gonnaing.

I'm not afraid of the dentist and I never have been because of great childhood experiences. I was surrounded by lovely hygienists and intelligent dentists who actually had bedside manner. I am afraid of unusual side effects from common things like Tylenol and anesthesia, and I'm also afraid of the unusual in general.

It's because of these latter fears that I have put off going to the dentist for quite some time. I don't fear getting my teeth cleaned, but I'm scared that the bacteria dislodged will land in my blood stream, flow to my heart, and create a deadly infection. I don't fear getting a cavity filled, but I fear having to be "put under" (THAT TERM ISN'T CLOSE TO COMFORTING) to get my wisdom teeth ripped out.

Everyone around me has heard my crazy reasons for aversion, even if they laugh awkwardly at them. I live in a hypochondria spiral, and I've kind of learned to deal with that. It's cool when it expands my knowledge of the medical world, but quite hindering when my jaw throbs with pain because my wisdom teeth have finally decided to emerge. Quite frankly, the time has come to jump out of the spiral and get my damn teeth fixed.

I have a list of dentists I'm going to spend the day researching and calling tomorrow so I can get an appointment. I'm going to lay down the law for whoever the unlucky son of a bitch is and refuse to settle for less than what I'm comfortable with. I will then find the best of the best oral surgeon based on said dentist's references and give that asshole some hell as well. I will grit my teeth (zing) and bear it, even when my hands are shaking because come on, guys. This is just silly. I'm in pain and getting sick because of some irrational (OKAY, ACTUALLY RATIONAL) fears.

We shall overcome, bros. Stick with me to see how it goes!

Marry Chrastmis

Y'all are probably like "HEY GIRL! Where you been?!!?" And I'm all like, "Over here, y'all, check it out!"

Seriously, though, I've been tirelessly prepping for Christmas, so I haven't had much time to think about or overcome any fears. This is what I've been doing instead:

My presents are all wrapped and ready, and now I'm yearning for eggnog, Christmas parties, "Christmas Vacation," too much food, and marathoning "A Christmas Story." The work has been done, and now it's time to play. Can't wait to spend the next few days with my loved ones. Y'all enjoy your holidays or lack of holidays - whatever you prefer.

(via someecards)

See ya after Xmas, dudes!

Aaron Rodgers is a Terrible Quarterback (and Other Awful Opinions)

In between finishing my dad's Christmas cards, decorating, cleaning out and setting up the entire basement, general Xmas prep, AND all the daily to-dos, I haven't had much time to type out anything longer than five words over the past couple of days. Until I get some time, I give you Unpopular Rick Perry Opinions:

These are my personal favorites, but there are much more on the Tumblr on which they reside.

Oh, and if for some reason you haven't seen that hellaciously offensive RP campaign ad, head to YouTube and add your thumbs down to literally the most disliked video on the Internet.

P.S. If I have to explain the last two Rick Perry Opinions, you are DEAD TO ME!

P.P.S. Not really, but Google that shit.

O, Henry!

I'm no longer debating whether or not this will happen. It's time for a hair cut anyway, and my untreated "virgin" locks are still worth a pretty penny, even in a day and age where nice artificial hair isn't that hard to come by. I'm about to pull a literal Gift of the Magi - I'm gonna chop these thousands of babies off so I can give my loved ones the holiday they deserve.

I realized there was to be no more pussyfooting about the aforementioned cut while driving around today in somewhat of a lack-of-money funk. I was running various errands, being ever so responsible with my funds, but of course, there's still never enough. All of this reached a boiling point when I watched the woman behind me almost rear-end me because she was looking off to the side at a house or a bird or something equally unimportant. (The worst people in the world go out when I do. It's as if there is an alarm that triggers when I jump in my car, reminding all horrific drivers, vicious assholes, and my GPS to be on their worst possible behavior.) I'm not big on crying these days and haven't in ages, but I'll be damned if the tears didn't start coming.

I've been rigorously applying for jobs and trying to promote my marketable skills to friends, family, and even some strangers. I've been trying to find ways to make money other than selling my own things, but that's really what it boils down to. And really, in the end, I just don't mind.

I've got more than I know what to do with sometimes, even if I forget that more often than I should. Making a list of things to sell was much easier than I'd thought. It was even easier to part with the idea that these things are mine, even if some of them will still be in my possession until I can find someone who wants to purchase my material goods. There are piles of clothes waiting to be sold, a camera waiting to portait-fy families for the holidays, and a car that is a little rickety, but could still get a good value. Still, all of those things will take time, time that I don't necessarily have.

I know the purpose of O.Henry's story was to illustrate how love overcame longing for material possession, that Della and Jim sacrificed their most prized items because they loved each other more than their hair and watch. They didn't need to give each other gifts because they, in a sense, were already gifts to one another. (Awwwww.) I dig that. I believe in that idea, but I also believe that everyone's Christmas should be a day to remember. The gifts, well, maybe they aren't necessary, but a gift with meaning behind it can be everything. I refuse to give up on the idea that I can give these kind of meaningful gifts because of money. I refuse to give up the opportunity to make many others smile.

I'm not opposed to making homemade gifts on next-to-nothing, but right now I'm a little on the nothing side. I need a little bit of boost to get to that next-to stage, so hair selling it is. With over 22 inches, I think I can spare some tresses.

I long to let my loved ones know just how much they mean to me, but I understand my situation isn't the worst in this world, and I would never pretend it is. I would love to give to those people in more dire situations than myself. I promise to give a third of the profit from my hair to a cause more worthy than I if you all spread the word.

So get to sharing. Spread this link out far and wide, and find me a real price and a real buyer. I don't have enough money to get the hair cut until I have a buyer, but hell... I'll get my boyfriend to chop it off for me if I have to. I'm hoping to sell the hair for quite a bit of money so that I can give even more to a charity or family in need than the projected one-third mentioned above. Let's Magi it up together this year.