WE ARE SURROUNDED BY GENEROUS PEOPLE.

I’m not even kidding. We don’t deserve this kind of love from people.

Well, maybe Kevin does, but I sure don’t.

In the past few weeks, we’ve received a heavenly new bed.

(Thank you to those responsible).

Kevin said I can post a picture of it as long as I inform you it’s “the place where the magic happens.” And it is, if you consider “magic” the fact that I can go to sleep under the (500 thread count!) sheets and wake up with half of the material on the floor and the other half tangled around my scrawny legs like I’m Houdini in a great sleep escape, while my hair attempts to imitate Medusa and mouth dribbles out drool. See what you have to look forward to Kevin? And I didn’t even mention the makeup that by early morning has went from eye liner to black eye. It’s like you’re marrying a rabid raccoon.

Sexy.

Also. I used to make fun of people that sleep with pillows between their legs.

That was before, when all had was a twin bed and ONE pillow.

Now?

I totally sleep with a pillow between my knees. And it’s the firmer pillow – the one I think we intentionally bought for Kevin? Sorry, Kevin.

(But not really).

And then there is this thing. This huge, ginormous…

NO not the speakers. Let me finish.

I’m talking about the TV. My parents (bless them) walked in with this literally two minutes after Kevin and I finished setting up all our electronics on an entertainment stand his brother loaned us. My parents were all, “We’re sorry! We’ll take it back!” and I was like what, no. It’s a TV! And it’s HUGE! And it’s FREE! So Kevin and I ran out and bought a new entertainment stand. And if you’re looking closely at the picture, don’t judge our movie choices. It was a PG 13 movie! Just don’t ask me what it was. The only thing I remember is that redbox made some good money off of us for not returning it. Redbox: 1. Us: minus 5.

And then.

Then I got a call from my mom saying someone mailed us a big package and she’s pretty sure it’s a vacuum because, well? It says vacuum on it and who the hell would send us that?

My friend. A very good, very generous friend (SERIOUSLY PEOPLE STOP. Thank you cards aren’t going to cover all of my appreciation for your friendship alone. I can’t handle the gifts too!)

But wait. Bottom right corner. . . what is that?

Oh you know, just my helper.

Someone’s gotta help me. I can’t take photos of vaccuums when I could take photos of big brown eyes, and big ugly teeth.

I swear. He kills me.

Since he decided to be so in the way, I threw on his new harness and snapped some shots.

For the record?

Kevin hates the new harness.

It sparkles.

Glitters.

Glams.

Blings.

But I still bought it because Ollie needed a new one.

And even though he hated it, Kevin let me buy it but only because I threatened him that if he didn’t let me buy this one I was getting the bright pink one and then he would look FAB-U-LOUS! What neutered dog doesn’t want to look like a Diva?

Model on, Ollie. Model on.

I REALLY DON’T HAVE MUCH NEW TO SAY in this post. It’s nothing you haven’t already seen – more photos of dogs, added to the hundreds I’ve already posted of them on this blog.

I know you’re probably sick of them, but this is my life as a crazy pet lady and since my camera follows me, and I tend hang around a pack of mutts…this is what you get.

(Although you will get a Made Me Laugh Monday post later tonight, and it is an absolute RIOT).

You remember Eddie?

He’s mom’s crazy Boston Terrier.

Emphasis on crazy.

Well, Eddie isn’t top dog anymore at the parents residence.

There is a new dog in town.

He’s orange.

He licks things.

He’s fluffy.

And he’s even a little cocky.

His name is Chance, and he’s taken over ever since my parents adopted him from Lost Paws, a no-kill local animal shelter organization.

Chance is a good dog, but he doesn’t fight fair. He’s a bully you see. And if he can’t beat you…

If he can’t outrun you…

If he can’t out-fox you…

He’ll bite you.

Of course King Oliver couldn’t be bothered with their petty troubles and decided to stay in Kevin’s arms where he was safely out of reach.

Kevin took a little too much pity on him.

But where was Rosco the Mole Rat? He was standing his ground. Preparing for battle. Sharpening those Rat Nose teeth. Playing victory music in his head.

Who won in the smack-down between Rosco the Mole Rat and Big Bully Chance?

I’ll let you be the judge.

In memory of Koda Bear, the most ferocious, fearless, loving little Pom-Pom that ever graced this earth. It’s been three months since you passed and we still miss you little guy.

Hope you’re still growling and Pom-Pom dancing in doggy heaven.

NOW THAT I’VE EMBARRASSED GRANDMA B, (Sorry Grandma.

Grandma? Grandma! Are you still here?

Rach?

Jackie?

Anybody?)

I figured I’d post something embarrassing about myself. Kevin already stated it on his Facebook when he updated his status as, “Just found out my girlfriend can touch her nose with her tongue.”

Kind of like this:

Except even more gross because I’m a human and not a dog.

I can’t help it. My tongue is so big that when I stick it out, it reaches the bottom of my chin. It can do the roll and the wave, and because of it’s size  I probably snore at night and would be a great backup for that guy from Kiss. Add to the fact that I’m already a walking freak show – I’m extremely double jointed in the arms, fingers and thumbs and I can fit my entire fist in my mouth – and you can pretty much call me to any birthday party if you’re looking for cheap entertainment.

The problem is, most people don’t ask to see these things.

I volunteer them.

I realized this probably wasn’t the best thing to walk around advertising when Aspen looked at me from her car seat and made the accompanying “mmmmph!” noise as she stuck her tongue out and tried to lick her tiny nose.

I only made it worse when I poked mine out and stuck it up my left nostril.

I know. I know.

I’m gross.

But you know you kinda wanna see it now.