Awesome Book: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

An important part of the holiday process: Devouring delectable books.

Have you read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time? You need to read this book. I read this fabulous skip-and-jump of a novel long before I was freakishly into dogs. It's not really about dogs anyway. The dog in the title is dead when the book starts and this is NOT A SPOILER because, again, it is clear the dog is dead IN THE FIRST LINE OF THE BOOK.

Don't freak out at me.

I started reading it for the second time on Friday and I was finished by Monday. At the risk of sounding like a tremendous underachiever, it is a very nice sense of accomplishment to quickly finish off a book you just love. You're sad it's over, but you have this kind of Ta-da!!! feeling too.

It's nice.

Read it. Lemme know what you think.

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Stuff My Dogs Have Wrecked: My Book (Dalai Lama vs. Obama)

They look harmless enough, don't they? Oh CONTRAIRE.

I have mentioned in past posts that I am doing what I can do be more zen (like here and here). I am certain that if I could get a couple days away from crap-free carpet, non-bitchy chicks in red and more wino, I would TOTALLY be able to kick Buddha's ass in an arm wrestle.

The situation in the photo below is NOT HELPING.


When I came home the other day, my Dalai Lama book was ripped to smithereens. Yeah. How the hell am I supposed to be zen if my chilled out monk book IS TORN TO PIECES?!! Sure, I haven't read it in like, 5 years, but whatever. Maybe I would have read it again THAT DAY and this kind of thing wouldn't have made me want to go all Tonya Harding on the nearest stuffed pig and THE TOP OF MY HEAD WOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO BLOW OFF. Did you know that it is possible for a person's head to pop off from sheer frustration? It is. And it did. And it wasn't pretty, lemme tell ya.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

As a quick aside: The Barack Obama book below was sitting RIGHT BESIDE the Dalai Lama book and, as you can see, it was left completely and totally alone. I have absolutely nothing against Barack- he seems like a fab-o guy- BUT OBAMA IS NOT GOING TO MAKE ME MORE ZEN. I'm Canadian for heaven's sake. Why couldn't the dogs have totaled the Audacity book? I've read it, I'm not going to read it again, the people who were going to borrow it did... now it's just hanging around CONTRIBUTING NOTHING TO MY OVERALL SANITY.

If you get a kick out of all the stuff my dogs destroy and watching me go mental you might also like:

• Stuff My Dogs Have Wrecked: Cushion
• Stuff My Dogs Have Wrecked: Cushion II
  
• Stuff My Dogs Have Wrecked: Shoes

Good times.

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1 Yr Olds- Baby 1: Dog 0

John and I babysat our friends' little girl on Friday night. Little Munchkin (LM) is about 1 1/2 years old. Mickey is about 1 1/2 years old. LM was pretty darn good. Mickey was a pain in the ass.

Let's compare, shall we?

When I arrived LM had a wee bit of a breakdown once she realized that her dad was about to leave. Shortly after that all the tears were gone and she helped me prepare the family dogs' dinner, we inspected her sock and puttered around the house. We read a couple books- actually, we read one book eight times- and then we went in the back, ran around in circles and threw the ball for the dog. Fun indeed.

An hour and a half later John and my dogs arrived. Mickey promptly stole LM's teddy bear and started to chow down on its ear. LM's eyes got as big as saucers as she watched the demise of her security blanket and I somehow managed to divert a Full Scale Waterworks Attack by diving after the dog and returning the teddy bear to its rightful owner. A LITTLE GIRL. At which point Mickey snatched it back. At which point I pulled an Incredible Hulk, puffed up to my Super Scary Crazy Mom height of 12 feet, 4 inches and made it VERY CLEAR that Mickey was NEVER TO TOUCH THE DAMN TEDDY BEAR AGAIN.

And so Mickey tried one more time and then we were done with that.

During dinner LM tried to feed her dog half of her dinner. I shook my head. She stopped.

After dinner Mickey stole LM's soother and ran to the other room (RUN! RUN! I'VE GOT IT! HAHAHAHAHA!), ears flat back and ready to go. And then he did it again when LM's parents got home, which was VERY embarrassing because I'm sure I've gone and bragged about how we are getting better at bossing our dogs around. DAMN DOG MADE ME LOOK BAD.

Once the parents were home, LM curled up onto dad's lap, nuzzled up quiet as a mouse and listened as dad read her a story.

Mickey jumped up on to everyone's fancy clothes (which he doesn't normally do), found Kayloo sleeping on the floor and woke her up with a Love Pounce and karate kick to the head, and managed to nudge his way out the front door and went tearing down the street like a bat outta hell: YAHOO! LOOK AT ME! I'M RUNNING, YA YA YA YA YA!!!

Once all that was done we headed back home. And then I had the joy of cleaning up 1 book, 1 journal and 1 bra that had been shredded into 8 trillion little pieces.

By 11pm Friday evening 1 1/2 year old babies were winning over 1 1/2 year old dogs. HANDS DOWN.

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