Entries RSS Comments RSS

Archive for the ‘TV and movies’ Category

A dog, a man, and a miracle

Sunday, December 19th, 2010

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Let you heart be light…”

It was a normal afternoon dog run. We took off, and went down one block until we were stopped by lady in a car with a dog. She asked us if we knew this dog. Apparently, it had been found as a stray close to our house. She was going to take it to the pound. After Louie, we vowed to never send another dog to the county animal care and control. We told this person to take the dog to Petsmart to scan it for a microchip. I also gave her our phone numbers, and to give us a call with the results.
We went on with our dog run.

“From now on our troubles will be out of sight…”

About thirty minutes later, we received a phone call. No microchip. We asked if she could hold onto the dog for the evening while we made some phone calls. She said she could, but only one night, and until five the next morning. When John and I got home, we were looking online at all the lost and found sites, seeing if anyone had posted anything about this dog. No luck. We called the lady and asked if it would be all right if we came and picked up the dog now so we could get started with posting the found information online. She was very relieved, as she was in an abusive relationship and her husband was less than pleased about her bringing home a stray dog. John and I leashed up our two hounds, and walked the block down to her house. We walked back with the dog.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the Yuletide gay, from now our troubles will be miles away…”

We put her in the outdoor dog run. She could not seem to settle down out there. It became very obvious that she was indoor and much loved pet. So we took her into the house and into the hallway bathroom. She had food and water, and blanket to lie on. She settled down, and went to sleep. The next morning, I had to go to work and John was working from home. We had a crazy day at my job. Someone, I managed to make up flyers listing that we had found an adult husky or husky mix dog in our area, giving our contact information. When I got home, John and I plastered the neighborhood with the flyers. We ended up eating dinner at the airport restaurant, and just by chance happened to post two flyers there. Thankfully, the owners like us and also are dog people.

“Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore…”

The next day I went back to work, fully aware that my husband and I were falling in love with this dog. After all, he had always wanted a husky, and this one was right there, living with us, and needing us. We made a vet appointment for that afternoon. After the chaos of the last day at an elementary school before Winter Break, I came home and went to the vet. We ordered a full work up on her, gave her vaccinations, and had the doctor take a look at a swollen back leg. Turns out, she had an abscess that needed surgery. We left the sweet girl at the vet for surgery the next morning. We also left thinking we were adopting the dog, pulling down the found signs on the way home and buying a collar, leash, and tag with her new name on, Kaya, which in Inuit for “stay”. We celebrated by going out to dinner with my parents.

“Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more…”

The next morning we got an early phone call. It was a man, claiming that he had lost his female husky. I asked a few questions, he answered them correctly, and we deduced it was his dog. The vet had already opened her up to determine that she had been previously spayed, cleaned up her teeth, and drained the abscess. The caller was missing his dog, as she had been with him since she was a puppy. She is twelve years old, and has a leaky bladder. She had been out since noon on Wednesday, and since we found her on late Wednesday afternoon, it made sense. She was his dog, and no longer ours.

“Through the years we all will be together, if the Fates allow…”

As it turns out, this man had fallen on hard times and did not have access to a car on the weekends. The dog, now known as Rosebud, was ready to go home this afternoon. We decided to pick him and take him to the dog. As drove to the vet, we learned more about Jerry. His wife of forty-nine years had Alzheimer’s, and a caregiver during the week. Jerry used the caregiver’s care to get some work so he could make some extra money. His daughter had died, leaving him in the care of his teenage grandson. His son, daughter-in-law, and three children were also living with Jerry as they had lost their home. Rosebud was his life, his soul mate, and his love. He was not a man to express his emotions, but when the dog was brought into the waiting room, I cried my eyes out and Jerry lit up like a Christmas Tree. Rosebud knew him, and covered him with kisses. He took home the medicine and after care instructions for her surgery. We took care of the bill, and it was not cheap. It was worth it. Every penny. The look on his face when he got his dog back was the most amazing thing I have seen in a long time. I knew I was witnessing a Christmas Miracle. And I am blessed to have been a part of it.

“Hang a shining star upon the highest bough, and have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”

Designer Diapers?! WTF?!

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

I am very easily amused. When I see something that makes me laugh, I will most often times go into a giggle fit that will last for a while. Just this evening, I was watching some quality reality television (Police Women of Memphis), and actually watched a commercial break. Most of the commercial breaks, I am up getting something to eat, taking care of some furry creature or another, or going to the bathroom. This time, I actually had a chance to sit.
One the screen- in HD, no less, shows a toddler clad in a jean-style diaper and a white button down t-shirt. He is walking down the street- presumably Rodeo Drive- and people are dropping everything to look at him. Apparently, his high-styling diaper has caught the attention of these snobby fashionistas.
I look down at what I am wearing- a pair of gym shorts and a ratty t-shirt and I’m thinking that this kid looks better than I do. Imagine me walking down rodeo drive wearing what I am in- I would send those fashionistas running for the hills!
Back to the commercial- I see these people ogling this kid, and then catch the tagline for this particular brand, “The coolest you’ll look while pooping your pants.” This makes me laugh myself sick. I realize that they are available for a limited time only, so apparently, you can only look cool shitting yourself for a limited time. I post these thoughts on facebook, and my vet (yes, I am facebook friends with my vet- she came to my wedding too) adds that some people can look cool crapping themselves in a paper bag. This starts a full on giggle fit for me (and yet another reason why I love my vet- she has a wonderful sense of the absurd).
This makes me wonder if the adult diaper world would use an idea like this one to style-up their products. I am sure adults, more so than infants and toddlers, are concerned about how they look when crapping themselves. This can open up a whole line of designer depends- not just jean, but stripes, polka dots, and even plaid. And why stop there- let’s bring in the big names, such as Armani, Chanel, and for the men we can have Hugo Boss. This can even show your styling skills in the care home- next thing you know, the old folks will be ordering the young’uns to bring them their favorite designer depends in, and be sure to get the right size, damn it!
As I am taking my dogs out in the yard for their evening constitutional, another thought crosses my mind- why not have styling diapers for dogs? I do know that there are diapers for dogs- I have seen them, and considered purchasing them for an elderly dog we had who had issues with bladder control. We all have seen dogs dressed up in all sorts of costumes- even I am guilty of dressing of my two in Santa and Mrs. Claus outfits (they looked adorable). So why not do designer doggie diapers? That would really make a statement at the dog park, for sure.
All of these thoughts lead me to wonder what is next for kids? I mean really, jean diapers? Come on. Ok, maybe I am really jealous and wanting them in adult styles for when I need them. That’s it!

A man, a boat, and a show

Wednesday, July 21st, 2010

I am crying after watching a tribute to man I have never met.

I a slight television addict.  I prefer non-fictions shows that show real people in real life situations.  One in particular is a show that I follow, and have since it started.

The show is called Deadliest Catch, on the Discovery Channel.

It is about the crab fishing fleet in the Bering Sea, hoping to catch crab and make it out alive.

Now, I do not like the cold (hello, I live in ARIZONA), I get sea sick on boats (and planes and cars and sometimes in my living room) and I cannot eat crab (allergic).

So why the hell am I so into this show?

There are real people dealing with real shit.

And it is addicting.

I have followed this show since it started, and that has been for about 6 years.  I have seen ships sink, men die, and fortunes earned.

And it felt like I have been there the whole time.

The filming is awesome, and there is no scripting whatsoever.  These men (and there are pretty much only men) are real.  They deal with conflicts, illness, discord, and family issues all while fighting for their lives trying to make their fortune on the Bering Sea, doing one of the most deadliest jobs in the world.

And I love it.

Why do I, and so many millions of others, love this show?

It has to be the people.  We can relate to them, and with the shit they deal with.

I mean, we all have not had the experience of crab fishing on the Bering Sea- very few people in the world ever had, and some do not make it back alive.

But we can relate.

We all have had a boss we did not like, and wished we did not have to deal with.  Enter the ship captains and the deckhands.

We all have had co-workers that should have worked harder, and done more, and ones that we have covered for.  Enter the deckhands working together.

And we all have been in nasty situations, made worse by any number of factors, such as weather, stress, and fear.  That pretty much describes every day on a Bering Sea crab boat.

That is why we watch this show, and how it has become one of the most watched shows on Discovery Channel.  It is not for the love of crab fishing, it is for the love of the crab fishermen.

We invite these men and their families into our living rooms every week, and we watch their lives.  We laugh, cry, celebrate, and mourn with them.  We hold our breaths when a crab pot is pulled over the rail, hoping along with the crew that it is stuffed.  We cheer when we see them filling the boat’s tanks to the top, and suffer their pain when the crews work 48 hours straight.  We laugh at the pranks and smile at the greenhorns.

We live with the crews, if only in our hearts.

That is why I am crying.

A great Captain passed away this past season.  Phil Harris of the Fishing Vessel Cornelia Marie died.  He was a good man with a good heart.  He lived hard, and played harder.  According to Phil, he smoke, drank, and did every drug known to man.  We loved him despite, or maybe because of his faults.  He was human, and did nothing to hide it.

His two sons, Josh and Jake, worked with him on the boat.  They were beside their dad during his last days, and mourned his loss.

As we all did.

The show Deadliest Catch did a tribute to Captain Phil.  After watching it this season, I am sure that it will win some sort of media award.  But that is not what matters to the captains and crews of the Bering Sea crab fleet.

They lost a family member, and are in pain.

We all are.

We miss you Phil.

God Bless, and God Speed.

SATC, Phoenix style

Sunday, July 18th, 2010

This was written a few weeks ago, when the movie Sex and the City 2 premiered.

It is three A.M. and I am jacked up on caffeine, wearing full makeup, a glitzy shirt, sparkly sandals, and huge earrings.  Allow me to tell you how I arrived at this destination.

My college friend Heather came to town on her vacation.  She lives in Tucson, about 2 hours away, but she and I have not seen each other in forever.  It has been almost five years- the last time I saw her was at my wedding.  So she came into town and we met for lunch and window shopping.  While out and about, I saw an advert for Sex and the City 2, which was showing at midnight tonight.  I suggested she and I go see it- we had both wanted to.  We bought our tickets and parted ways, promising to meet up again at the theater around 11.

Being someone who is compulsively early (ok, not for everything, but early for Manolo Blahniks on the big screen), I left my house at 10.  Got to the theater complex, parked in an awesome spot, and went inside to line up.

There is when the pre-show began.

As I walked my way towards the end of the line, I saw three men.

And they all were gay.

All the rest were women.

And these women were trying very hard to be one of the Fabulous Four in SATC.

I saw shoes of all colors and styles- some in fashion and purchased at Sacks and Nordy’s, other in questionable taste and purchased from Stripper’s R US, if there is such a place.

There were earrings- some real, most fake.  And there was a girl with a bunch of blue feathers in her hair.  Not quite sure what kind of statement she was looking to make, but it sure was one that still showed she needed her mom to get her into an R movie.

I saw a woman with an infant in a carrier.  Shortly after, we were treated to the show of her (and her mother) cussing out the manager for not permitting the baby in the theater.  Apparently, children under 3 are not permitted to see R movies after 6 PM.  Who would have thought- why hire a babysitter?  The kid is going to sleep through the movie.

Sure, provided that he could handle all the screaming queens in the back when Liza Minelli appeared on screen.

Heather and I were close in line to these queens.  They were the full package- guy liner, tight jeans, tight shirts, and loose lips.  They had more estrogen in them then I did!

We thought they were just trying too hard to play the part of the diva queen.  Ladies, word to the wise- REAL divas do NOT wear shoes from Goodwill bin!  Or if they do, they call them vintage, not “shoes from some dead guy my boyfriend found for me.”

Then there was the issue of the gender confused.  We saw a person- cannot say if it was a man or a woman- all dressed in black, alone in line.  Would have been a crapshoot to determine the person’s gender- he/she was carrying a handbag, but had very masculine features.  Heather mentioned how sad it was for gender confused person to be alone in a movie- perhaps there should be a support group.  I laughed myself all the way to the seat.

We scored seats in the front part of the stadium section where the metal handrail is.  Perfect for a footrest, and no one in front of us!

Heather went to get her popcorn, and I was relaxing and watching the previews.

Until the kicking started.

The little blonde Brittany (I call them all Brittany, just to make life easier) was kicking the back of my chair with her Payless platform.  And it was pissing me off.

I turned around, and politely asked her to stop kicking my seat.

She and her other clones all went silent, but the kicking stopped.

For five minutes. There was dead silence after my request, then a whispered comment- I heard the word bitch- and then giggling.

And then the kicking began again.

I waited a minute to see if she would stop, but this Brittany was persistent.

Using my quick reflexes, I reached around just as she was gearing up for a kick and grabbed her ankle.

I told her, very politely, that if she did not knock it off, I was going to break her cheap heel off and shove it up her ass.  And for the record, this is me being a bitch.

She stopped.  And there was no giggling.  But I am pretty sure I heard the word bitch mentioned again.

And I am OK with that.  After all, it has taken me 31 years to refine my skills, and I am not going to waste an opportunity to use them.  And if the Brittanys and her clones did not like it, they can kiss the fattest part of my ass.

So began the movie- or shall I say, the previews.

Why is it that there re always as least 20 minutes of previews before a show?

And really people, do I care to see what the latest in the pigtails and braces league is hollering about, what with the newest Twilight movie (New moon eclipses the dawn, or something like that).

Then the show begins.

Overall, it was pretty good.

Heather gave it an awesome and very concise summation- it is porn for women and gay men.  There are great clothes and shoes and jewelry, sex scenes (no frontal nudity, but lots of innuendoes), scandal, and karaoke.  What more could a girl ask for?

It was great chance to be with my girlfriend, and also helped me realize I am happy with who I have become.

I am 31 years old, and do not qualify to shop in “petites” or even single digit clothing sizes.  I have an attitude, and have no qualms about expressing my opinion when I am pissed off.  Over the years, I have learned to temper my tongue, but on some occasions, words escape my food hole before going through the editing process between brain and mouth.  But for the most part, I am a nice, adult woman.

As I was driving home on the deserted 51 freeway, I was considering where I am at in my life.  It was about 3 AM, and the road was clear, it was a full moon and lovely night.  The moon roof was open, and I was rocking out the Michael Buble (as much as anyone can rock out to him- but he is soooo smmmmoooooottthhhhhh).

I was merging to get on the 101 west to get to my house, some assclown decided to speed up out of nowhere, cut me off, and then slowed down in front of me.

Did I smile, shrug, and laugh it off?

Or did I honk the horn and give him the one fingered salute out the moon roof?

I am confident you can guess correctly.  And to give you a hint- it involved me being a bitch.  And I am OK with that.  After all, I think I’ve earned that right.