I'm One of THOSE People...

So despite saying that I would never be one of THOSE people....I totally am.  And by that, I mean I'm kind of obsessed with my dog.  I haven't quite become a crazy, dog lady to the max yet, but it's pretty bad.


I used to hardcore make fun of anyone that baby talked their dog and outright LOL'd at anyone who would refer to his or herself as a dog's mom or dad.  Dogs aren't babies, you freaks!  And then we got Bernie and I became everything that I hate in this world.  (That's actually an exaggeration, I hate a lot of things. Keep reading, we'll discuss them all.)  And if my actions related to my dog say anything about my future as a parent, I already hate my future parent self.  

First day we brought him home.  ZOMGSOFREAKINGCUTE,RIGHT?

We got Bernie from a shelter that rescues dogs from puppy mills.  Rescuing a dog from a shelter is incredibly fulfilling and I highly recommend that everyone does so. That being said, rescuing a dog is also an instant ticket to asshole dog parenthood.  Why is that?  Because now that I've rescued my poor little puppy, I obviously have to spoil the shit out of him and act like a helicopter parent to protect him from the difficulties of life because he already had a rough start in life. I also feel the need to brag about his life achievements.  For real, I have had conversations with people where they talk about their real, live, human children and I have to stop myself from being all, "Oh yeah, that's great.  Bernie learned how to open a water bottle using his mouth and paws today!"  (He really can do this btw.) I mean really?  What the hell is wrong with me?  Oh you're baby is cute, but you should see my dog!  I want to die. 


To be fair, Bernie is pretty bad ass for a dog.  I like to say that he's a combination of the Honey Badger and this guy: 

He even likes cheese!  (He also likes, in no particular order: processed lunch meats, burying shit, digging shit up, chewing underwear, car rides, humping my arm, and Skittles. He also gets pissed when I spend too much time on the internet and displays this by hitting my laptop shut with his paws. DNGAF.)

The thing is, this treating a dog like a person shit is contagious.  My parents even schedule time with Bernie and refer to themselves as his grandparents.  They buy them his own ice cream cones and hamburgers when they go to McDonald's.  I don't even want to know what it will be like when I have kids.  My mom might actually stalk me.

There is also not a doubt in my mind that if I was single, I would be an animal hoarder. I would have like six dogs right now.  Or even worse, if I become a widow, I will be one of those ladies that treats a monkey like a baby.  What?  You were unaware of this phenomenon?  Well, welcome to my future!

I can't even lie, I wouldn't even be upset if my future entails dressing a monkey in doll clothes if I can get a glamour shot taken with them.  I always wanted a glamour shot and my mom wouldn't let me get one.  That shit was fierce.

Like this, but with a monkey

For now, I'll settle for putting t-shirts and sweaters on Bernie when my husband isn't looking.  And making him pose for pictures like this. 

Totally normal behavior for an almost 30 year old...

You smell like a baby prostitute (literally).

So, I guess I should mention that I just so happen to be an attorney.  I promise, I'm not a complete dick though.  (I still have too much student loan debt to be a completely pretentious douche).  I just so happen to work in a pretty random law office that practices a mix of civil and criminal law.  That means that on any given day I really have no idea who the hell is going to walk through our door or what kind of case will land on my desk.

One day, it just so happened that an "alleged" prostitute walked through the door and into my case load.  To be fair, she claimed that she was NOT a prostitute, but a dominatrix.  In case you were unaware, being a dominatrix doesn't require that you sleep with your clients.  Whips, chains, riding crops, toe fetishes: fair game.  Sex: Not on the table.  The More You Know! I swear, if I had to enpanel a jury in that case, I was going to try to pick anyone who had read "Fifty Shades of Gray."  (Not that I have read it.  I refuse to give authors that have no literary skillz my cash money.  See also: Nicholas Sparks). Luckily for me, a jury was not needed! (If I did criminal law all the time, my ringtone would be " Not Guilty, ya'll got to feel me!") She was a really nice girl and I actually believed her, but she also didn't exactly wear a lot of clothes when she would come to the office.  Kind of like my girl, Viv, over here...

Ilovethismovieandmaybeknowmostofthedialogue/hadthesoundtrackontape/dreamofthedayIcanyell"BIGMISTAKE!HUGE!"atsomeBiatch.

What she lacked in clothes she certainly made up for in perfume.  Seriously, she smelled like she had straight up bathed in it.  The scent was really odd too, like something I had never smelled before. (Now if she had been wearing D&G Light Blue, I would have ID'd that shit right away.  I swear, every girl in my sorority wore it circa 2003).  I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but I honestly wasn't even 100% sure it was perfume.  It honestly smelled like fruit when you leave it out and it isn't quite rotten yet, but it's definitely over-ripe.  

So flash forward to this past Saturday when I decided to try one of the sample perfumes I had gotten with my latest Sephora order.  (Does anyone else end up spending over $50 online to get free shipping instead of just buying the one thing you that need from the actual store just because they don't give free samples in the store?  Just me? Ok.) I love vanilla scented anything and I have been looking forward to trying something from LaVanila for some time, but as you will learn, I'm cheap and suffer from former-Catholic guilt so I hadn't allowed myself to shell out the cash for new perfume as of late.  I had a tiny little sample of their Vanilla-Blackberry scent and for once I actually remembered that I had it, so I therefore doused myself in it.  Or at least, doused myself as much as one of those tiny free sample wands would allow.

Lucky Sephora user Jennie from NJ said, "i got this as a sample...yuck. i don't know why but i feel like i smell like a drunk. maybe i am associating the blackberry sent with blackberry brandy...i don't know but it is awful on me. i can't wait to shower. i love the smell of vanila, but this is putrid."  See, even people from New Jersey think this smells like garbage.

I didn't really notice anything at first and as I'm consistently running late, I promptly made a mad dash for my car.  It is currently hot as F in Pittsburgh and therefore my car was hot and humid as hell.  Before the air conditioning really kicked in, I started to smell it. The sticky humid air was the perfect environment to really spread the smell around until it filled the car and permeated my nostrils.  A somewhat familiar scent of....ROTTING FREAKING FRUIT!  I had inadvertently covered myself in the "alleged" prostitute  dominatrix's icky perfume!   What.The.Hell, Sephora?  At first, all I could think about was, "this La Vanila shit isn't cheap!  Being a dominatrix must pay well."  Seriously, if I could keep a straight face while making a dude lick my shoe, I would consider it. (What? Like I said, mama has a lot of student loan debt!)  For the rest of the day every time I smelled myself I wanted to pull a Janice Ian and yell, "you smell like a baby prostitute!"   Actually I did say that, but apparently no one I saw that day has as discriminating of cinematic tastes as yours truly.  No one gets me AND I smelled like an alleged hooker dominatrix!  Fun times.

Are there any other perfumes out there that I need to put on my "AVOIDTHESHITOUTOF" list?  I only ask so I don't waste my precious FREE Sephora samples again.

Hey yinz guys....!

I hope when you read this post title you heard it in your head as if Sloth was yelling to the rest of the Goonies (except in my version, Sloth is a yinzer from 'da Burgh).  If you did, I think we will be friends.  At least, we can be internetz friends.  I don't know if I actually want more real life friends, dude.  We'll see...

I haz photo editing skillz

Anywho, I suppose the first post on a blog should be where I take time to introduce myself and tell you what this blog is supposed to be about.  Well, I'm not 100% sure what the theme of this blog will be, other than me, my life (especially my dog because he is awesome), and things that I like/do/think are funny.  I've noticed that most lady-folk blogs include weddings, babies, crafts, cleaning tips, and recipes. I'm not saying I won't include those things (except I own no small children at this time so if any kids make it on here it's because I'm a creep), but let's be real, I don't have time to be as perfect as most other blog ladies, or at least as perfect as they appear to be.  When I include that stuff it will be more like semi-home made with Sandra Lee shit, but with more booze and less cray eyes.  But more on that later, I think I smell an entire blog post coming on about failing to live up to the standards of most bloggers!

In the meantime, I would like to note that this was not the first blog title I had picked out.  "But, no, seriously..."  was definitely not Option A.  Option A, my friends, was "Is this real life?"  but someone apparently thought of that way back in 2007, wrote one freaking (super lame) post, and then disappeared into internet obscurity.  WTF, dude?  You do not deserve the blog title I totally stole from little David after his visit with the dentist!