We had our usual routine this morning, where the dogs immediately burst outside like the house is on fire, and then when they hear me feeding the cats, through the wood and the brick and the five rooms from the back yard and the insulation, they want right back in. Then after they eat, the house is apparently aflame again.
So they were on their second trip out while I checked email–and can I just say, if you have emailed me and I have not answered? I am sorry. I am getting several hundred emails a day and I was trying to be all good and answer them (I mean, they're not all related to this blog, my email. I just mean in general) (although most are from this blog, actually. I KNOW! Who's hoity-toity all of a sudden?), but sometimes I just cannot. I know I sound like a tool.
Anyway, my point is, I was in here doing stuff when, "WOOF." It was Tallulah. It's always Tallulah. Edsel would run around like a demon in that yard for six hours, except Talu gets bored. And God forbid he let her out of his sight.
"I HEAR you!" I said, while I put dishes away and threw in some laundry.
Oh for the love of all that is holy. Except for that one NOTABLE time, I ALWAYS let her in, so do we need more than one bark? I mean, okay, if an HOUR or something has gone by, freaking remind me. But this every-19-seconds thing is obnoxious.
I go to the door and JUST when I get there, the Schnauzer and Lab behind us got let out.
"Smell Lu!" And off she went to go play with them. Oh, I was irritated.
(Once I let her out at lunchtime and went to work. I forgot about her. And she was in the back yard, in the 65-degree weather, for four hours. You'd have thought I'd thrown acid on her family. I got the silent treatment for a week.)
In other news, guess what.
Anyway. Hello, the 16% who read me on Saturday! What are y'all doing with your bad selves today? I am recovering from my big night out of partayying till 1:00. Woo! Twenty years ago, 1:00 would've been an early night. Sad.
Right after work, the new girl, Poochie, came over. She lives kind of outside town and has hens and goats and cats and dogs and yes, she does have EVERYTHING I WANT. Except she doesn't have a teacup pig, which I still desperately want. At any rate, like me, she was interested in meeting my pets, because it's fun to leave your 50 animals and meet new ones. I don't KNOW why. It just is.
So anyway, Poochie stayed a couple hours and we talked and played with the animals and I offered her no food, as I had a can of tuna and a box of flax, and yes I do understand I suck. I did have wine for her, which Lily drank.
After Poochie left I put on my iTunes, which do not contain a bunch of hits from the last time I went out, during the Clinton administration, or anything, and got all ready. Poochie told me to wear something swingy, and what I discovered is I own nothing swingy. Why? Why is that? So I wore black and pink sparkly jewelry. Because I am annoying.
Here is me guiding my coworker, The Spanish Editor, to my home. She had on lots of sparkly brown, which at least wasn't as making-June-look-boring as sparkly turquoise.
We get downtown to this club, and about 15 of her friends are set to meet us there. There's a huge line outside, and everyone in said line was about seven years old. "I donnn understannn!" she said. She is from Colombia. Do you enjoy my accent? If you were here, I'd sound Finnish. All my accents sound Finnish. "When we come here udder time it fill with people our age. Thirty, forty, not 15 like tonight!"
"Maybe they have different music on different nights," I offered.
"Jesss, that could be." At this point I'm making her sound like Speedy Gonzales. "But ebery udder time, it Saturday night, like tonight."
We both stood there in the street for a second, looking at each other in horror. "OH MY GOD! Eeets Friday night! OH MY GOD!" We giggled among the youngsters. Then we talked about how be BOTH fasted on Thursday this week, thinking they were having these insurance (INsurance) blood tests, but it turns out there was a MEETING about the INsurance and the test is Monday. I was so glad somebody else was all starving and peaked all morning and it wasn't just me.
So we ended up going to this bar right near my house. Dudes. It's RIGHT NEAR MY HOUSE, and it has multiple levels, and dancing, and a band, and outdoor seating with couches and WHO KNEW? I could walk there. Who needs to get out more?
After, she came over and I read her tarot cards, because that's apparently my trademark for getting babes back to my place.
The Spanish Editor is an interesting person. She used to be a journalist, and has been all over the world. She's one of those people who, if she has extra money, will spend it on having fun. I demonstrated for her my Botoxed forehead. Enough said.
All this socializing has exhausted the Eds. I like how a puff of fur has fallen off of him. Honestly, things don't look this filthy here till the camera flashes on them. Look at that bookshelf! Guess I'll, you know, dust today.
I have a date tonight, but in the 39495589020 emails I have exchanged with said…date, we talked about my blog and I said I didn't want him to read it, and he said (a) it feels like my private business and he won't intrude on it and (2) he doesn't want to read about how much I detest him, should I do so. I believe his exact quote was he was worried he'd see, "I've been spending time with this total rube. GOD." Which would be impossible for him to read because have you ever heard me say, "rube"?
So I will not say much about my date. Going on a date. The end. (Ohmygod he is really cool. Okay. Done.)
When I started this thing five years ago, I had no idea this dilemma would come up. I didn't ever think I'd be divorced and dating again and having to worry about my blog. I mean, obviously. How could I know all that? But it is kind of a thing, because it takes up a lot of my day, at this point, and I'll be all, "One of my commentors said…" like that's just a thing people say. But how scary to be someone walking IN to all that.
I should get up now but Iris is asleep on my arm. I will post and you 16% better say amusing things, because it looks like I'm stuck for a whole purry catnap.