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Friday, March 22, 2013

Fish purse

Since having my wallet stolen, my husband decided I should get a better bag. One that doesn’t zip itself open at random moments. Most ladies enjoy shopping for purses, I’m not one of them. Usually I will have a bag till it partially disintegrates and the other half can no longer be used as a hat. My thing is mini back packs, as I like to have my arms free and I care very little for bag fashion. So off we went to a store and even for my humble taste all the bags were gawdawful hideous. Not wanting to waste my Saturday going from store to store,  I settled on a cheap, ugly messenger bag.  Muddy brown with a hot pink interior and some silly silver splotch design on the front, it has little brass buttons on it that make no sense, this is the bag.  I figured I could play of its hideousness as “Ugly cute”.
 Not long after purchasing it and subsequently trashing the receipt. I began to notice a fishy fish smell. Like shrimp chips, wrapped in noori and sprinkled with crab. Sniffing out the source, I find it’s my new ugly cute bag. It’s been almost a week now and the smell is going strong, no amount of airing it out seems to help. So I go online searching to see if anyone else’s bag is possessed by the ghost of a Japanese snack factory. Apparently this is a very common thing at least I’m not alone. With leather and faux leather bags, companies soften the leather with chemicals and fish oil. Fancier brands use fancier fish oils and everything’s cool. Cheaper brands use cheapy fish oil and chemicals therefore the bag smells like seafood ramen left in the back of someone’s 1979 Volkswagen  scirocco on a hot day.
  The smell apparently can lessen but will never be gone. Argh! This means I have to buy another bag, because I was too hasty and threw the receipt away. Unless every time I open my bag to get my wallet I have to explain to the cashier why it smells like an old cat died of tuna bloat in my purse. Cheapo bags have always served me well in the past, they can last for years and years. But now I find myself thinking about joining the club I always made fun of…

“You paid 300 bucks for a purse!?!  Do you have any idea how many latte’s that is!?”

I have been in fancy stores, and looked at fashion bags over a $1,000.00, yet never saw anything I liked. I just don’t’ care about bags. I once saw some 600 dollar purse, made from alligator skin and dyed hot pink. I have never seen an alligator in real life, and I doubt many shoppers who would drop 600 bones on a purse have seen one either. I’m not against killing animals and wearing them. I just think it’s funny that you can use the dyed skin of a large predator to haul your i-phone and lip gloss and never have seen one of their species in real life.     
Dude, I cannot join this club, screw it I’m going to the army surplus store and buying a canvass bag. Woot she said.


Burger joint bandit



In my day, I have found many a lost wallet or wad of cash. It is not my first thought or probably my natural instinct to return the items or drop them off at police stations.  But I enjoy the perks of being honest, and I like that maybe I brightened someone’s day? 
  I do it because I know how I would feel if such an incident were to befall me. Or so I thought….
   Last week, the husband and I decided to go to a burger joint.  It is always packed to the rafters in this particular place, but we managed to swipe a table, yay us. I slung my mini back pack over the chair, as I usually do then we ate. Soon I began to feel guilty, for the other desperate patrons, arms full of burgers, searching for a place to sit. We were finishing up at this time, and as we got our trash bundled up. There was one man impatiently loitering for our table. We took off and before I got in the car I noticed my back pack was unzipped completely open….and my wallet was gone! I am a quiet panicker, without telling my husband I took off back the way we came. Retracing my steps, searching in planters, sidewalks, hoping my wallet would be there.

But no.

I went back inside the burger joint, hoping it was there.

But no.

We rushed home, thinking perhaps I left my wallet there?

But no.

  Is it possible that in the hussle and bussle of a Friday night burger joint, someone unzipped my pack and took my wallet? I don't really remember who was around our table...
 Or did it fall out of my bag, and someone not so honest found it and kept it? We spent the night canceling all my cards, going on credit alert and filing a police report. Fun fun fun. I jumped between feeling stupid for losing the wallet and annoyed because maybe I was robbed? What if the thief managed to use my cards before I could cancel them?
I tried to keep my friend Tiff in mind, a few years back she was robbed after leaving a bar by some jerk. I asked "Oh no, Tiff? Were you hurt?" To which she replied "I'm fine, he was terrible at being a criminal anyway. Didn't try to molest me or anything!" I tried to keep her bravery and sense of humor in mind, but then again....knowing Tiff.
 A week later the popo, showed up at my door, they found my wallet! It still had all the stuff inside, whoever had it must have ditched it once they found everything was cancelled. Whoever took it, didn’t bother to look in the change purse, who’s got a quarter?

                                             I’ve got a quarter!






Pretty Perry



                                        Bonuses are wonderful things.

 My husband and I decided we would  finally make good on our threat to adopt a friend for Andy dog. Searching the local rescues we came across a dainty little shih-tzu girl, with huge paws named Periwinkle. Periwinkle had previously lived in harsh surroundings and is afraid of anyone that goes near or even speaks to her. We went to meet Periwinkle and the poor dear was petrified, seriously she was too afraid to budge. Shaking like a leaf as we stroked her back and tried to sooth her. 
                                    She’s a project, if ever I saw one.  
                       If you don't get this reference, you did not grow up in the nineties. 

   As unwise as it may seem to others, my husband and I deemed we + Andy were the right family for her, and signed the adoption papers. Periwinkle had been pregnant when she came to the rescue and needed to be fixed before she could come home with us. The big day came and we drove the hour back to the dog rescue to pick her up. We brought a leash, but had to carry her into the car as she was too afraid to walk. She was stinky, like you wouldn’t believe.
We carried her inside our home, and Andy, whom I thought would be interested in this new dog.  Wasn’t interested in the slightest, in fact he acted as though she were not in the room! Poor Periwinkle slumped against walls or would hide in her carrier. My husband was deeply affected I think, by Periwinkle's attitude, mad at the idea that anyone could ever have hurt such a small Periwinkle. Despite the treats he tried to tempt her with, she remained afraid of us for a solid week. She stunk up the entire house for a solid week as well. 
 My husband is much kinder than me as far as doggy discipline. He carried Periwinkle inside and outside to go to the bathroom. He baby talked, spoiled and coddled Periwinkle every moment. I’m of the school of tougher love, and despite her unwillingness to walk on a leash, or tolerate human touch. One day I strapped her poor cute butt into a harness and took her for a nice stumbly drag…. err…...walk I mean. Don’t freak, she began to walk on her own after a 20 seconds of that. Though it took another few days before she had her tail out from between her legs and wagging. 

 After this experience, Periwinkle began to follow me around the house. But still not accepting of attention.
  I tolerated this until I stepped on her paw, then decided this was not a good thing to encourage. Soon afterwards, Periwinkle began to permit pets and scratches. Andy dog had to help us teach her what toys were about, she looked at them like she had never seen toys before. Once she discovered they squeaked however, she wore the squeaker out of 2 of them. The more Periwinkle came out of her shell the more Andy seemed to acknowledge her presence. Pretty soon they were playing and bickering like regular siblings.
  Periwinkle loves her stuffed toys so well that she sometimes would carry them with her like a little girl with a favorite doll. Though we don’t let her take them on walks. She had a terrible time adjusting to our sleeping schedule.
         "I'm awake! Are you awake?!!"

So we started letting her bring a stuffed toy on the bed to calm her, at which Andy gave me a shocked and bitter look, just staring until I said 
                                                       “Oh alright!
  I had to let him have a toy, to make it fair. Kids! Now we have squeaking in stereo during the night.
   You wouldn’t recognize Periwinkle now, she’s…. well she’s kind of a whore. :D There’s not enough attention and cuddles in the world to satisfy her. She is crazy for play time and rough housing with Andy. She loves going on walks and meeting other dogs. She’s groomed, well fed and spoiled by sitting on the furniture and watching horror films with us. She still has fear of most people, especially men. My husband, I guess will take longer to trust because he is a big guy. So now I have 2 dogs who stare at me when I pee.