Bloggy Bloggy Friend(s)

I'd like to introduce y'all to Laurie's Little Blog, the newest and first site to join Bloggy Bloggy Dew as an affiliate! Please check it out using the link at the top right of this page. If any other Bloggy Bloggy readers have marked off their own bit of cyberspace, let me know. I smell a coalition!

Who says West Texas is ugly?

I'm going to take a highly pretentious risk and title this "Sunrise." Notice the wee structure just right of the center. It's a windmill, y'all!

Happy Anniversary, Stinkpot!

Muppet and I will be celebrating our anniversary in a few short hours. Yep, it has been one year since I drove up to the Fayette County Animal Shelter, had her shot full of painful vaccines (not to mention a Mark-O’-the-Beast Microchip), and hauled her away from the warm, furry, and familiar embrace of her siblings. Despite all of that, she has forgiven me and been a good pal. She’s only destroyed one couch, one arm chair, and one pair of shoes, and has only set me back a couple thousand bucks.

Here’s looking at many (or at least one) more years together, Muppet Bear!

And now a retrospective: 3/27/2007-3/27/2008, the Year of the Labradoodle.

Oh, and here's Muppet's favorite song. Ignore the anime.

Grody to the Max

It is very difficult to enjoy your study break of Fritos and assorted dips when your mother will not close her picture book of diseased genitalia. That is all.

Crap on a Hot Tin Roof

So my trip to the theater left a little something to be desired. I have a feeling this entry’s title tells you all you need to know about the quality of the high school’s production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I expected to find a bunch of pubescents running around with taped on beards shouting lines way beyond their maturity levels, but I didn’t expect them to be so clueless about what they were saying. I really think the material was way too difficult for them, or perhaps just not adequately explained.

Needless to say, I had a hard time critiquing the play and for several reasons. First off, I had a sneaking suspicion the director thought it was brilliant, and I didn’t want to insult him or shatter his worldview by telling him the earth was indeed round. Secondly, the kids are competing on Thursday, and I didn’t see how helpful, much less palatable, a hot order of scathing criticism would be this close to their event. So I did try to “sandwich” my comments with praise. I feel bad for the kids, as they’ve obviously worked hard on their show. I guess I don’t feel that bad, though. Otherwise there’d be no drawing of rooftop-cooking feces ala Microsoft Paint on my blog. Oh, the special place in Hell awaiting me.

Seriously, though, I’m beginning to wonder how much of teaching will involve supplying kids with praise that is entirely unearned in order to not completely shatter their senses of self? And is this really doing them a favor? No wonder we have a whole generation of kids running around thinking they’re the cat’s pajamas. It’s really difficult to look at them in the face and candidly inform them of the vastness of their sucktitude.

I Believe That Children Are Our Future.

So for one of my classes I’ve been interviewing a teenage reader. We’re supplied with a bunch of questions that are supposed to be a “beginning springboard for a meaningful discussion.”

Here’s how my first interview went.

Me: What do you like to read?
Her: Nothing.
Me: Nothing? Well, what don’t you like about reading?
Her: Everything.
Me: Can you name something specific?
Her: It’s stupid.

I think this particular springboard is in need of oiling. Anyone got any cognitive WD-40?

In other news, my services as a drama critic have been elicited. I am to workshop the high school's production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof tomorrow.

The SFFC Rides Again!

The SFFC is off to a slow start. It’s been nearly a month since our inaugural outing, and I’m beginning to think I might have overshot when picking that particular name. Maybe the Semi-Amusing Outing Dyad (SOAD) would have been a better title for our little group. Nevertheless, we have embarked on another mini-adventure, this time to the home of some old dead lady.

One of SFFC/SOAD’s passions is to visit the homes of old dead ladies, root through their things, and sometimes attempt to purchase various trinkets and baubles for a fraction of what they’re usually worth. We call this fun; the world calls it an estate sale.

Here is one half of SFFC preparing to enter the latest estate sale to grace Seminole. It is obvious that she is filled with hope, anxious of what treasures await her inside. She has no clue that she is about to walk into a structure obviously built atop a hellmouth of bad taste.

This ignorance is erased upon entering the home’s foyer. The walls of the large room have been covered in a photographic mural of some coniferous forest, mountains and sunshine tiptoeing out from behind the dense mass of two-dimensional pine trees. The image is akin to those found in the baptisteries of every Church of Christ in the greater Southwestern United States. We know we are in trouble. We now know that we won’t be finding any treasures, any semblance of taste. We’ll be finding these:

Bloggy Bloggy Blah

It’s been almost a week since I’ve posted, but I have nothing exciting to say—kind of a minor case of the blahs coupled with an acute outbreak of education overload (the non itching kind), both from too much homework and too many days substituting. The latter is really an energy drainer, but as George Washington said when crossing the Delaware, “It’s $60 a day, and I’m a broke-ass honkey.”

In other news:
Muppet is going to live!!!
I’ve been asked to direct a play by the chamber of commerce.
I should find out my student teaching locale next week.
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

I CAN HAZ ONION RINGS?

So my dad brought home Charlie’s last night. Charlie’s is a steakhouse in Seminole that is more known for its killer onion rings than its steaks, emphasis on the word killer. Those of you familiar with my dog-parenting style know I’m a little overprotective. Well, this overprotective-ness came in handy last night when Muppet managed to eat each and every last onion ring while the rest of the family was occupied. My parents gave me the same line everyone gives me: “She’s just a dog. Dogs eat everything. She’ll be fine.” Thankfully, I remembered some previous research I did on food poisonous to dogs, and I knew that onions were right up there with chocolate. I’m even more grateful that there was a vet on call in Denver City—20 miles from here—who was able to confirm my suspicions and justify to my "she’ll be fine" parents that a trip to the doggy emergency room was necessary.

My mom and I made it to Denver City in about 10 minutes, and about 50 minutes to an hour after ingestion, Muppet’s stomach was pumped clean. I caught a glimpse of the battered culprit on a surgical table when they opened the door to release her. The rings, in all their regurgitated glory, were in a tangled mass about the size of a bowling ball. The worst part of the whole night was seeing Muppet after the procedure. They’d drugged her, and she came wobbling out of the room, eyes red and vomit all over her face. What’s worse was her trembling. If I ever get my Asian baby, it is not allowed to get sick. Too much trauma, thank you.

Muppet’s prognosis is good. The vet “highly doubts” that any onions were digested. We should know in about four to five days when she either continues to live or drops dead of hemolytic anemia.

Political Dew

Being gone for a week has really made me ponder the focus of this blog. I’m kind of embarrassed about how self-centered my posts have been, so I’ve decided to shift gears and talk about something of interest/importance to us all. Unless you are Helen Keller, you’ve no doubt seen/heard/read about the following when opening a newspaper, turning on the radio, or flipping on the television. Yes, I’m talking about the primary that has GRIPPED the nation’s attention. And we here at Bloggy Bloggy Dew couldn’t be happier about last night’s results. We’d been so skeptical about what the citizens of Ohio would decide, but we can now rest assured that this country is on the right track. For visual learners, and for anyone who missed last night’s triumphant showing by our party, I’ve enclosed the following:




Eat it, box of rocks.