Monday, March 25, 2013

Murder, revisisted.

Title explaination here.

Recent phone conversation with my husband.


Nate: Are you serious right now?

Me: Um, Never. Doing?

Nate: You know what I'm doing, I'm upstairs.

Me: Ok fine. I'll play your game, semantics police. What are you watching.

Nate: The Hobbit. This is ridiculous. We are in the same house.

Me: Come down here and hang out with me!

Nate: Again, no thanks. I told you I'm not watching a documentary on Jeffery Dahmer. I don't care if it was at SXSW, it's weird.

Me: Oh that's already over. And it.was.AWESOME.

Nate: Awesome? I'm sure his victims would beg to differ.

Me: Whatever. Now I'm watching this show about a lady who killed her husband with horse tranquilizers and then burried him in the desert.

Nate: I'm actually afraid to grow old with you.

Me: I don't know why. You'd never see it coming.

And then he hung up on me...?




Friday, March 22, 2013

These are a few of my favorite things

If you’re new here, HI! If you’re a repeat customer, DOUBLE HI! Now that we’re all acquainted, I want to share something with you. I’m a dog person. That is also an extreme understatement, but I'll let the following story explain...

So it’s December, and we’re moving into our new house. Yay! WEEE!! SO EXCITED. But wait…I hate packing. And moving. And unpacking. So as you can imagine I was just a peach to deal with at the time. Which is probably why I found myself in a truck, full of our crap, driving to Fort Worth, at night, (cue Celine Dion, because I know for a fact you just hummed that song to yourself).

Something else you should know about me, besides the dog person thing, is that I require an abnormal amount of “adult” supervision for someone who is technically a grown up. That’s pretty much the main reason I got married. I digress. So I’m driving a truck full of stuff, and have almost successfully made it back to the house without incident or injury…and that’s when I see it.


Ya’ll. This guy is walking down the street, and has an adorable little pitbull trotting along behind him. For a split second I assumed this was the man’s dog, until he (and I’m not even a LITTLE bit joking) turns around and roundhouse kicks this dog in the face.

I’m gonna let that shock sink in for a minute.

Seeing red? Because I had murder written all over my face. So, being a “dog person”, I roll down the window and scream at the guy. Turns out I’m a bad ass (just let me) because he ran off. So I pull into the parking lot nearest to the dog and as soon as I get out of the truck he runs up to me. THE sweetest. And since it is cold, I decide I’m gonna bring him home for the night and deal with the consequences of the previously mentioned grown up I live with later. Ask forgiveness, not permission. DUH.

I get homeless dog in the truck, and am about to climb in after him when some moron lays on their horn. This scares the already terrified pup and he jumps out of the truck and runs straight into the intersection.

Yes. I flipped out. Yes. I jumped in the truck and followed him…into a not so nice neighborhood. Sketch would be putting it nicely.

And here goes round 2 of saving this dog. I know, I'm the nicest, right? Remember that...

I park the truck, jump out (leaving the door open) and start walkin in the dog’s direction when I hear this guy laughing. I look up, and he’s standing in the doorway of his lair, cackling. Thinking maybe this is his dog I’m chasing, I ask. He says no. Indignant, I ask what the hell is so funny…and he just gives me one of those head jerks toward somewhere behind me. So, naturally, I turn around…and quickly see what he finds so damn amusing.

My truck? The one with half our belongings in it? Is steadily BACKING ITSELF STRAIGHT INTO THE STREET. I have to sprint, SPRINT to catch it, jump inside and slam on the e-brake to make it stop. Which it does…literally 15 feet shy of hitting the building across the road. Turns out I didn't put it in park, so much as I did reverse.

OH and you’ll love this. The dog? It followed my stupid running ass, so when I slammed on the brake, the door, which was STILL open, nails the him right in the face as it swings closed. So…yeah. He’s not exactly speaking to me.

EPIC. FAIL. Level: I almost wiped out an entire neighborhood.

Moral of the story is I didn’t save the dog, but the ice cream I rewarded myself with for not killing anyone was delish.

Oh right, I’m also an ice cream person. Dogs and ice cream. Just a few of my favorite things.



Monday, March 18, 2013

Midnight Rooftop Adventures

Alternately titled: Reason number 5,362 that my husband should never be left unsupervised. Especially at night.

What up moonpies!? Certainly nothing since I last blogged, right? Honestly, what could possibly go down in a measly four months? Maybe your life is different, but mine has been super uneventful. Just: closing on our first house, Thanksgiving, unexpected two week hospital stay, moving into aforementioned new house (with as much grace as a pack of blind/deaf sled dogs), Christmas, Yanke visit, New Year, Valentines, and Saint Patty's.

Happy 2013 Y'all. I suck. Whatever.

How about I make it up to you with an awesome story about my careless husband and his special needs dog, mkay??

The first thing you need to know is that Nate has the most obnoxious work schedule ever. He never works more than TWO days in a row, before he gets a day off. Ass hole corporate America goon. This really isn't important, except that it irritates the ever loving fire out of me that he gets to stay up late/sleep in EVERY Wednesday and Thursday. Rude.

Moving right along. Cue Wednesday night. Mr. "ha ha it's my Saturday and I'm gonna stay up late and play video gamesssss" is doing a stupid happy dance as I drag my butt to bed. Annoyed.

Ya'll, what happened that night, I couldn't make up even if I day drank tequilla and did a head stand. He calls me FRANTIC the next morning on my way to work. Heavy breathing and all. And this is the story he tells me:

"So I was playing Xbox. And Lady had to pee. And I didn't want to go alllll the way downstairs (*insert eye roll here*) so I just let her out on the rooftop deck. Anyway, there was this zombie I was killing and all the sudden I heard something above my head. I thought it was just the surround sound so I ignored it. Then I remembered about the dog, so I opened the door to let her in...and she was GONE.

*heart stops* *I envision mass paranoia as I report to the authorites that my handicapped, common sense impared pitbull is now on the loose*

Nate continues: So I walk all the way to the edge of the railing, and turn back towards the house, and I find her... ON THE ROOF. And I quote, "like the SANTA part of it!!!" (translation: the very top).

THE ROOF YA'LL. Dog. On the roof. Husband. In his underwear, yelling at said dog. At midnight.

Me? Laughing so hard invisioning all of this that I choke on my chocolate milk. Don't start with me. 26 year olds can drink chocolate milk for breakfast. It's very hipster. Now pay attention!

Ridiculous story short, he climbed over the railing, picked her up, and carried her back to the safety of the deck. The dog and my half naked husband both survived with no injuries. Except to their pride, because I obviously ridiculed him to no end, and then blogged about it. Wife of the year, I know.

Marriage is awesome. I can't wait to embarass our future children together.



P.S. Dear neighbors: relax. We will get the hang of this grown up thing one day or another. We're here to help God teach you patience. You're welcome.

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