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| He'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone who the real baby of the family is. He's not jealous AT ALL. |
Showing posts with label austin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label austin. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
A Word from our Sponsor...
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Ten
Baby Austin, 2001
Grown-up Austin, 2011
Dear Austin,
Happy TENTH Birthday! It's been a good year for you so far, I mean besides this and the other time where you almost bled to death from a toenail (claw) cutting session gone awry (your father's fault). The 765,408 bloody pawprint stains on our carpet are a nice complement to the vomit stains, however. Adds character.
This year you're going to be a big brother. In fact you were the first
Tonight, we celebrate you. I'll even let you drink out of the toilet as much as you please.
Love,
Mama
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Austin Chronicles - Part 6
Sometimes there's nothing better than fried fish during a Sunday afternoon Saints game. So a couple of weeks ago, that's exactly what we had. Stew pulled out the burner and cast iron pot, a few gallons of vegetable oil, defrosted some trout and we got our fry on.
The weather was unusually fabulous, so after the game Stew took the boat out with a friend and Suzie decided to stay home, open the windows and leave the back door open for Mr. Austin to roam in and out at his discretion. After an hour or two ofnapping lazily on the sofa using my Sunday afternoon to do productive things around the house, I started to smell a certain greasy, fast-food like aroma. Odd, since we cooked the fish outside several hours ago. The smell seemed to increase as I got closer to a certain guilty-looking puppy. I ran outside to inspect the fryer setup and realized that Stew had left it out, top off, to cool down. It was cool alright, but the pot was missing about 2 quarts of its original contents. Anybody want to guess where that oil went?
For the remainder of the evening, Austin moped around the house with his tail between his legs. That night, we heard a strange sound which I can only describe as a cross between Chewbacca, the principal from Forrest Gump, and a deranged goat. We dashed into the (carpeted) front room and found a freshly deposited pile of puke, which had the consistency of sticky marshmallow creme and gravy. Barf #2 came about an hour later in the (carpeted) living room and was brought on with the same guttural fanfare. This particular specimen was less taffy-like and more slimy, but with a topping of foamy meringue. Thirty minutes later in another section of (carpeted) living room, my oil-spewing pet started revving up and I quickly tried to herd him to the back door or at least to a tiled floor, but he shot back onto the carpet and firehosed another installment of his special brew. This one contained about 3 cups of unchewed and undigested dog food pellets, and a roux-like mixture of burned oil and stomach acid. In fact, imagine you're eating a big bowl of Cocoa Puffs. Except, instead of milk, you pour gumbo on top. Now you get the picture, right? His stomach contents did not, however, contain any sort of household cleaning device or edible fungi. For your reference, the color of this link provides you a handy example of the particular hue of the aforementioned upchuck.
The following day concluded with 2 small batches of french onion soupy stomach acid regurgitations, again on the carpet. Of course. I know what you're thinking. That's a lot of friggin oil. Ha! That's what BP said...
Good news is that Oily McGreaserson is now back to his normal, non-vomiting self. One question though: Do you think we'd qualify for an oil spill claim?
The weather was unusually fabulous, so after the game Stew took the boat out with a friend and Suzie decided to stay home, open the windows and leave the back door open for Mr. Austin to roam in and out at his discretion. After an hour or two of
For the remainder of the evening, Austin moped around the house with his tail between his legs. That night, we heard a strange sound which I can only describe as a cross between Chewbacca, the principal from Forrest Gump, and a deranged goat. We dashed into the (carpeted) front room and found a freshly deposited pile of puke, which had the consistency of sticky marshmallow creme and gravy. Barf #2 came about an hour later in the (carpeted) living room and was brought on with the same guttural fanfare. This particular specimen was less taffy-like and more slimy, but with a topping of foamy meringue. Thirty minutes later in another section of (carpeted) living room, my oil-spewing pet started revving up and I quickly tried to herd him to the back door or at least to a tiled floor, but he shot back onto the carpet and firehosed another installment of his special brew. This one contained about 3 cups of unchewed and undigested dog food pellets, and a roux-like mixture of burned oil and stomach acid. In fact, imagine you're eating a big bowl of Cocoa Puffs. Except, instead of milk, you pour gumbo on top. Now you get the picture, right? His stomach contents did not, however, contain any sort of household cleaning device or edible fungi. For your reference, the color of this link provides you a handy example of the particular hue of the aforementioned upchuck.
The following day concluded with 2 small batches of french onion soupy stomach acid regurgitations, again on the carpet. Of course. I know what you're thinking. That's a lot of friggin oil. Ha! That's what BP said...
Good news is that Oily McGreaserson is now back to his normal, non-vomiting self. One question though: Do you think we'd qualify for an oil spill claim?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Happy Birthday Austin Puppy!
Dear Austin,
You've been throughan absurd amount of your fair share of ups and downs during your life.
Then you got really big and thought nothing of regularly crushing me under your 108 lbs.
Then you went through some odd phases. Here's your redneck phase.
And your cowboy phase.
And your topless phase.
You are such a good boy. You haven't always been. But you are now. Not only do I love you, but I genuinely LIKE you.
You were born exactly 9 years ago today.
This is what you looked like at 6 weeks old, the day we brought you home.
You've been through
You got big really fast. Here's you at only 2 1/2 months.
Then you broke your tibia. That was fun not fun. One day I will devote an entire chronicle to telling that story.
Then you moved across the country with us. This too, one day, will be chronicled.
Then this happened. In fact, many things happened that I have yet to chronicle. But I will. Ohhhh, I will.
Then you got really big and thought nothing of regularly crushing me under your 108 lbs.
Then you became a vegetarian. Not really. But you love to eat watermelon. And pumpkins. In fact, we let you carve your own every Halloween.
Then you went through some odd phases. Here's your redneck phase.
And your cowboy phase.
And your topless phase.
You are such a good boy. You haven't always been. But you are now. Not only do I love you, but I genuinely LIKE you.
Love,
Mama
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Austin Chronicles - Part 5
It's no secret that my dog is a serial snuggler. He's not allowed on our new sofa, and he's not allowed on our bed. This has caused him to become quite resourceful. Most of the time I'll find him in the corner curled up with something he dragged out of a closet to use as a makeshift blanket. Nothing is safe. My 5x7 area rug, the Christmas tree skirt, my Snuggie, Stew's old Air Force uniforms, a duffel bag, dirty (or clean) laundry...all have fallen victim.
The latest:
That pile of old egg crates came from the guest bed. I didn't even have time to throw them away before Snugglepants swooped in and got cozy. He could teach a bird a thing or two about nest making.
The latest:
That pile of old egg crates came from the guest bed. I didn't even have time to throw them away before Snugglepants swooped in and got cozy. He could teach a bird a thing or two about nest making.
Monday, May 3, 2010
My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday
Today. May 3rd. Marks the date of my birth. Thirty years ago. THIRTY. Three whole decades.
I was asked this weekend if I was dreading the big 3-0. To tell you the truth, I haven't been. And I'm not freaking out now that I am. Officially. THAT age.
Honestly, 25 was the age that really hit me. In the face. Hard. I was at the grocery store buying candles for my own birthday cake (which is depressing in and of itself). Not sure if you've ever noticed, but birthday candles come in packs of 24. I was 25. Which meant I needed 2 packs of candles. FORTY EIGHT candles. I had graduated to the same candle bracket as a 48-year-old. Gone were the carefree days of simply one pack of candles! Also gone were the days of someone else taking care of the birthday candle buying, but that's a whole different issue.
Later on that year, I saw a billboard advertising the 25th Anniversary of Popeye's. Great, now I'm the same age as fried chicken.
It probably didn't help that at age 25, I was a few steps behind where I thought I'd be at that age. Sure, I had scored an awesome husband, but I still hadn't completed college or bought a house. I thought I'd surely have done both by then. After a whole quarter century! Then Katrina came and well, nothing really throws your life plans off track like a natural disaster.
Here's the good news. I made it to 30. And I'm happy about what I've accomplished thus far. Here's a recap of the past decade of me:
2000 - dropped out of LSU, planned my wedding, married the one and only Stewart Alexis
2001 - moved to Washington, lived on a military base, bought AUSTIN, bought AUSTIN a new $3,000 leg, cried when AUSTIN ate the whole roll of film that documented Stewzie's first year as a married couple
2002 - bought Black Betty, was voted Employee of the Year, moved back to Louisiana, readjusted to heat and humidity
2003 to 2004 - worked, saved, had my purse stolen by crackheads, missed Stew a lot (he worked offshore)
2005 - went back to college, paid for it myself, continued working full time, turned 25 along with a 2 piece, white meat, spicy, with a side of dirty rice, a biscuit and a red drink, got Katrina'd, lived in Arkansas for a month with 9 dogs and a whole mess of people, came back home and removed my neighbors' carport from our backyard, got a new job
2006 - went back to college (again), got a 4.0, kept working, paid off Black Betty, became an Aunt
2007 - kept my 4.0 streak alive, started househunting, kept working full time
2008 - bought a house, renovated it every night for 9 months, kept my job, my husband and my GPA but lost my sanity, EARNED my degree and finally graduated
2009 - learned to relax, thanked my husband, went public with my snoball love affair, started Stewzie
2010 - had a crazy dream that the Saints won the Super Bowl, realized it wasn't just a dream, dressed like a toothless hillbilly not once but twice, then turned THIRTY
Whew.
This is just a tiny percentage of the ups, downs, and in betweens of the past 10 years. If you are the one who created the above, good or bad, THANK YOU, I am truly blessed. If you have been a part of any of the above, good or bad, THANK YOU. If you weren't a part of any of the above, THANK YOU, because you're reading this now and that means you're a part of today. My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday. The first day of the rest of my life.
"Time and Tide wait for no man, but time always stands still for a woman of thirty." - Robert Frost
I was asked this weekend if I was dreading the big 3-0. To tell you the truth, I haven't been. And I'm not freaking out now that I am. Officially. THAT age.
Honestly, 25 was the age that really hit me. In the face. Hard. I was at the grocery store buying candles for my own birthday cake (which is depressing in and of itself). Not sure if you've ever noticed, but birthday candles come in packs of 24. I was 25. Which meant I needed 2 packs of candles. FORTY EIGHT candles. I had graduated to the same candle bracket as a 48-year-old. Gone were the carefree days of simply one pack of candles! Also gone were the days of someone else taking care of the birthday candle buying, but that's a whole different issue.
Later on that year, I saw a billboard advertising the 25th Anniversary of Popeye's. Great, now I'm the same age as fried chicken.
It probably didn't help that at age 25, I was a few steps behind where I thought I'd be at that age. Sure, I had scored an awesome husband, but I still hadn't completed college or bought a house. I thought I'd surely have done both by then. After a whole quarter century! Then Katrina came and well, nothing really throws your life plans off track like a natural disaster.
Here's the good news. I made it to 30. And I'm happy about what I've accomplished thus far. Here's a recap of the past decade of me:
2000 - dropped out of LSU, planned my wedding, married the one and only Stewart Alexis
2001 - moved to Washington, lived on a military base, bought AUSTIN, bought AUSTIN a new $3,000 leg, cried when AUSTIN ate the whole roll of film that documented Stewzie's first year as a married couple
2002 - bought Black Betty, was voted Employee of the Year, moved back to Louisiana, readjusted to heat and humidity
2003 to 2004 - worked, saved, had my purse stolen by crackheads, missed Stew a lot (he worked offshore)
2005 - went back to college, paid for it myself, continued working full time, turned 25 along with a 2 piece, white meat, spicy, with a side of dirty rice, a biscuit and a red drink, got Katrina'd, lived in Arkansas for a month with 9 dogs and a whole mess of people, came back home and removed my neighbors' carport from our backyard, got a new job
2006 - went back to college (again), got a 4.0, kept working, paid off Black Betty, became an Aunt
2007 - kept my 4.0 streak alive, started househunting, kept working full time
2008 - bought a house, renovated it every night for 9 months, kept my job, my husband and my GPA but lost my sanity, EARNED my degree and finally graduated
2009 - learned to relax, thanked my husband, went public with my snoball love affair, started Stewzie
2010 - had a crazy dream that the Saints won the Super Bowl, realized it wasn't just a dream, dressed like a toothless hillbilly not once but twice, then turned THIRTY
Whew.
This is just a tiny percentage of the ups, downs, and in betweens of the past 10 years. If you are the one who created the above, good or bad, THANK YOU, I am truly blessed. If you have been a part of any of the above, good or bad, THANK YOU. If you weren't a part of any of the above, THANK YOU, because you're reading this now and that means you're a part of today. My 2nd Annual 29th Birthday. The first day of the rest of my life.
"Time and Tide wait for no man, but time always stands still for a woman of thirty." - Robert Frost
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Austin Chronicles - Part 4
You ever have one of those moments where someone says something seemingly innocent and insignificant, but later on you realize those words were the most profound statement EVER?
Yeah, well that picture up there reminds me of one such moment.
Back in August 2001, Stew and I were living in Washington. State, not D.C. We selected a local breeder and drove out to Puyallup (pronunciation: pew-al-up) to go select our brand new, 6-week-old Chocolate Labrador Retriever puppy (translation: money pit). Everyone had told us to choose the puppy that runs up to you and wants to play, because that is a sure-fire sign that the puppy will grow up to be vibrant and full of energy (translation: a combo plate of hyper and stubborn. with a side of crazy). Sure enough, one cute little brown furball wobbled right up to us and started licking my hand and chewing my thumb (translation: Pick Me!). I scooped him up, he snuggled up to my neck and I. Was. Sold. The breeder's young daughter exclaimed "That one's named Buster. Cause he'll bust your house up!"
Pause for a moment to let that sink in. Because I should have. And didn't. However, Little Buster (translation: Austin) had already stolen our hearts. And our common sense too, apparently.
On our way back home, we stopped at the pet store to pick up some last minute essentials (translation: stuff we forgot to buy BEFORE getting a dog). We browsed through collars and leashes and toys for a few minutes until Austin spied an employee tediously stacking VHS tapes (it was 2001, remember) to display on the end of the aisle. Austin jumped straight out of my arms and proceeded to haul his tiny, 10 lb. body right towards the 4-foot-tall tower of videos. At NASCAR speed. I yelled his name, "AUSTIN!" (translation: stupid move on my part because the poor dog probably still thought his name was Buster). I rounded the corner just in time to witness him plow right through the display and send 300 video tapes crashing to the ground all over the place.
The kicker? Those videos were DOG TRAINING VIDEOS (translation: irony. and shame).
We purchased one out of necessity (translation: guilt) and sadly it didn't teach us how to prevent Mr. Buster Brown from eating the baseboards off the wall. Or to poop standing still. Or to stop eating Irish Spring Soap. That would have helped. However, with the aid of that video, Austin can now sit, lie down and stay, all by commands given via sign language (translation: cool party trick).
Moral of the story: Pick the fat, lazy puppy who pays no attention to you. Then have his teeth and legs removed just in case.
Monday, April 19, 2010
SnoBloggery
#5 - The Big Chill
That's me enjoying the latest, a Velvet Elvis. I do a good Elvis impression, no?
The Big Chill is slowly becoming one of my local faves. They have a good variety of outside-the-box-flavors. Guanabana anyone? Apparently, good ol' Elvis is a SECRET RECIPE...or so the girl working the stand informed me. She descibed the Velvet Elvis as "nice and fruity." Vague answer, if you ask me. Here's my assessment: 2/3 red cream soda, 1/3 unidentified, yet pleasant, fruitiness. Surprisingly refreshing.
The Big Chill is located right outside the gate of the walking/jogging track of Lafreniere Park (York Street entrance).
Austin thought this snoball was particularly delicious. He ain't nothin' but a Hound Dog...
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Austin Chronicles - Part 3.5
Update: This is what's left of Austin's BONE!
Only a nubbin of its original HUGENESS of a week ago.
Pretty impressive, considering we had to confiscate said BONE! for a couple of days due to the fact that Austin's farts were starting to smell like HOT GARBAGE.
Only a nubbin of its original HUGENESS of a week ago.
Pretty impressive, considering we had to confiscate said BONE! for a couple of days due to the fact that Austin's farts were starting to smell like HOT GARBAGE.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Austin Chronicles - Part 3
Austin has a best friend. His name is Eric. Eric lived with Stewzie for 6 months following Hurricane Katrina and Austin fell into a deep bromance with Eric. Eric isn't a dog. Eric is a human. Eric used to be Stew's best friend, but Austin changed that. Now when Eric comes over, it's not uncommon for me to have to perform the Heimlich on my dog because he went and choked on his excitement. Again.
The other day, Eric not only came over, but came over WITH A GIFT! for his buddy Austin. Pause for a moment to visualize the heart attack Austin had when he saw this: 
This is what I like to refer to as the MOAB (Mother of all Bones) - pictured above next to Stew's truck tire for size reference.
Not sure if I've mentioned just how OCD Austin is before, but his reaction to this rawhide monstrosity was similar to his reaction to anything out of the ordinary. The look in his wide brown eyes quickly turned to panic because THE BONE! THE BONE IS NOT A REGULAR SIZED BONE! His anxiety quickly became unbearable and he cried like a baby because THE BONE! I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START CHEWING THE GIANT BONE! He was completely exasperated. Once he had received sufficient parental reassurance and instruction to SHUT UP AND LIE DOWN WITH YOUR BONE, his fear turned to excitement and he was all THE BONE! I GET TO CHEW THE BONE! BONE! BONE! BONE!
The other day, Eric not only came over, but came over WITH A GIFT! for his buddy Austin. Pause for a moment to visualize the heart attack Austin had when he saw this:
This is what I like to refer to as the MOAB (Mother of all Bones) - pictured above next to Stew's truck tire for size reference.
Not sure if I've mentioned just how OCD Austin is before, but his reaction to this rawhide monstrosity was similar to his reaction to anything out of the ordinary. The look in his wide brown eyes quickly turned to panic because THE BONE! THE BONE IS NOT A REGULAR SIZED BONE! His anxiety quickly became unbearable and he cried like a baby because THE BONE! I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START CHEWING THE GIANT BONE! He was completely exasperated. Once he had received sufficient parental reassurance and instruction to SHUT UP AND LIE DOWN WITH YOUR BONE, his fear turned to excitement and he was all THE BONE! I GET TO CHEW THE BONE! BONE! BONE! BONE!
Then, guess who made the mistake of kneeling down next to her little brown pup to share in the fun, only to get smacked in the cheekbone when said brown pup raised the MOAB up and swung it around like a light sabre?
You guessed it. Ahhh, the joys of pet ownership Austin ownership.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Why I love Mardi Gras: Reason #313
When your dog does THIS to the free stuffed animal, you don't really mind. Because it was FREE.
Now if I could only train him to pick up all of those cotton teddy bear guts...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Now if I could only train him to pick up all of those cotton teddy bear guts...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, February 26, 2010
Why I love Mardi Gras: Reason #312
Free stuffed animals for your dog to snuggle with.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday, December 21, 2009
Silent Night
Last night, Stew returned from his week long hunting trip in Indiana. How we ever went months on end without seeing each other...I'm glad that whole stage of our lives is over with. I mean, one whole week of me being responsible for Austin's morning meal and then having to take out the trash twice (which actually only got done once) left me longing for Stew to come home and do his man chores.
For clarification, I'm responsible for the woman work - you know, cooking delicious stuff, making sure the house doesn't smell like dirty socks, cleaning Stew's tiny beard hairs from between the faucet handles, DVR-ing the current episodes of Steven Seagal: Lawman for my husband's viewing pleasure, etc.
So, in honor of my true love's return, I want to share with you a little prose I came up with. Don't worry, I won't quit my day job.
An Ode to Snoring - by Suzie Alexis
It's something no writer could compose
The symphony that plays out through your nose
Night after night I hear it blow
Pillow in hand, to the living room I go
Oh, how I'd rather a quiet bed
I guess I'll settle for the sofa instead
-The End-
Welcome back home, Stew. Austin and I missed you. And your snoring. Loud, noisy snoring.
For clarification, I'm responsible for the woman work - you know, cooking delicious stuff, making sure the house doesn't smell like dirty socks, cleaning Stew's tiny beard hairs from between the faucet handles, DVR-ing the current episodes of Steven Seagal: Lawman for my husband's viewing pleasure, etc.
So, in honor of my true love's return, I want to share with you a little prose I came up with. Don't worry, I won't quit my day job.
An Ode to Snoring - by Suzie Alexis
It's something no writer could compose
The symphony that plays out through your nose
Night after night I hear it blow
Pillow in hand, to the living room I go
Oh, how I'd rather a quiet bed
I guess I'll settle for the sofa instead
-The End-
Welcome back home, Stew. Austin and I missed you. And your snoring. Loud, noisy snoring.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Austin Chronicles - Part 1
This is the first installment in a 10 (million) part series I like to call "The Austin Chronicles." If you're scratching your head wondering who Austin is, well then you haven't seen this or this. In a nutshell, Austin is our 8-year-old Chocolate Lab, who eats Irish Spring soap, thinks my 5'x7' zebra rug is his personal blankie, and is just an all-around hoot. Especially if hoots weigh more than the average teenager and cost you more in medical bills than the average budget of a major metropolitan city.
The Austin Chronicles, though numbered for easy reference (who ever said Stewzie doesn't care about the blog-readers?), will not necessarily be in any chronological order. I figure, if Austin is unpredictable, so too should be his chronicles. This series will likely include:
1.) That time he broke his leg and it cost us our life savings BEFORE we had pet insurance.
2.) That time he cut the tip of his tail and left a trail of high velocity blood spatter across the entire U.S. of A. and didn't stop bleeding for SIX months.
3.) That time he got a chunk of wood lodged in his soft palate.
4.) That time he ate the baseboards off our walls, the hair dye in my purse, the only roll of film from Stewzie's first Thanksgiving and Christmas, bubble gum lips, and a wallet IN ONE DAY.
5.) The time he kinda-sorta broke-dislocated his tail.
6.) The time he ate a whole platter of blackened redfish in 10 seconds.
7.) The time he escaped from the backyard and caused his normally fully-clothed mama to run up and down our old neighborhood in her PANTIES searching for him. Oh, and our old neighborhood was located 10 feet from a major highway and directly across the street from the largest Baptist church in the city and it just happened to be Sunday at noon.
8.) The time he committed grand larceny of the neighbor dog's frisbee.
9.) The time he found a sea turtle in our suburban back yard.
10.)The time he fell in a pool 3 times in a row, not realizing it was there. Oh, and he is TERRIFIED of water. You read that correctly. A LABRADOR RETRIEVER. TERRIFIED OF WATER.
So, here goes Part 1...
The Brillo Pad
A few years back, I got home from work one day, and like the good wife that I am, I set out to clean the bathroom. Step one was cleaning the bathtub. I got out a fresh, new Brillo Pad, and then the phone rang. I set the Brillo Pad down on the tub and walked into the living room to answer the phone. Wrong number, it turns out. So I go back into the bathroom, and am greeted by my little brown helper, who has blue soap powder all over his little brown snout and lining his little puppy lips. And there is no trace of said Brillo Pad, save for a tiny shard of steel wool lying at his feet. I opened his jaws as wide as a Hungry Hungry Hippo, and see a streak of blue going all the way down his little puppy throat. I then uttered the strangest sentence of my life. "My dog ate the Brillo Pad."
I frantically called our Vet, but remember, I had just gotten home from work. Which means it's about 5:30, and the regular Vet closes at 5:00. So I call the Emergency Vet. They don't open til 6:00. Of course. Whoever left a one hour span of Vetlessness between regular Vet hours and Emergency Vet hours has obviously never owned an Austin. Anyway, after about 72 desperate voicemails left by yours truly, they called me back. I explained the whole thing to the skeptical receptionist, who informed me that I could try to make the dog throw up by feeding him peroxide, but then the B.P. might get lodged in his esophagus and choke him. I vetoed that option. Even though choking him did sound tempting. But we're talking about the same dog that used to lick the hot pepper "don't chew the furniture" spray like it was coffee table seasoning. I doubted peroxide would affect his iron belly negatively. Our other option was to let him try to digest and poop out the B.P., but since it is literally made of tiny strands of sharp metal, I vetoed that option, fearing canine colon surgery might be in our future. And if anyone in our household is going to have colon surgery, it's not going to be an animal. Or me. So Stew and I loaded up Black Betty and drove our little Austin Ambulance down to the Emergency Vet.
They put us in a tiny exam room and lined about 95% of the floor with newspaper, you know, for the REGURGITATION. The doc then explained that the solution to our little "issue" would be to give the dog a couple vials of this powder stuff that gets put in the dog's eyes, which then causes their central nervous system to freak out and make them nauseated, and then puke up the "foreign object." He assured us that 2 of these vials usually do the trick. If not, you wait 10 minutes and then give 'em 2 more vials. Never has it taken more than 6 vials. TEN vials later, my pup starts drooling and stumbling and we're all "Oooh, he's about to vomit," and he makes his way over to the only corner of the room that's not lined with newspaper (of course) and with a giant heave-ho, ralphs up.....a MUSHROOM SLICE. Not a Brillo Pad. But a slice of friggin' fungi. The Vet shoots me a cynical glance and I'm all "I swear to you, He really did swallow a Brillo Pad. And no, I don't have a clue where he found a slice of mushroom to consume." So 2 more vials (for a total of TWELVE) and the dog finally yaks up the piece de' resistance - a whole, intact Brillo Pad. I'm assuming that B.P. soap is not toxic, because in no way were his stomach acids tinted blue, so he must have digested that part without a hitch.
Just shy of $300 later, we were on our way home with a furry brown stomach that was as empty as our wallet. Luckily, we were wise enough to enroll our little health hazard in a pet insurance plan a couple years earlier, and they reimbursed us almost 2/3 of the bill. Much easier to swallow, pun intended.
Moral of the story is to never clean your bathroom. Or just have your dog's jaw wired shut. Either or.
The Austin Chronicles, though numbered for easy reference (who ever said Stewzie doesn't care about the blog-readers?), will not necessarily be in any chronological order. I figure, if Austin is unpredictable, so too should be his chronicles. This series will likely include:
1.) That time he broke his leg and it cost us our life savings BEFORE we had pet insurance.
2.) That time he cut the tip of his tail and left a trail of high velocity blood spatter across the entire U.S. of A. and didn't stop bleeding for SIX months.
3.) That time he got a chunk of wood lodged in his soft palate.
4.) That time he ate the baseboards off our walls, the hair dye in my purse, the only roll of film from Stewzie's first Thanksgiving and Christmas, bubble gum lips, and a wallet IN ONE DAY.
5.) The time he kinda-sorta broke-dislocated his tail.
6.) The time he ate a whole platter of blackened redfish in 10 seconds.
7.) The time he escaped from the backyard and caused his normally fully-clothed mama to run up and down our old neighborhood in her PANTIES searching for him. Oh, and our old neighborhood was located 10 feet from a major highway and directly across the street from the largest Baptist church in the city and it just happened to be Sunday at noon.
8.) The time he committed grand larceny of the neighbor dog's frisbee.
9.) The time he found a sea turtle in our suburban back yard.
10.)The time he fell in a pool 3 times in a row, not realizing it was there. Oh, and he is TERRIFIED of water. You read that correctly. A LABRADOR RETRIEVER. TERRIFIED OF WATER.
So, here goes Part 1...
The Brillo Pad
A few years back, I got home from work one day, and like the good wife that I am, I set out to clean the bathroom. Step one was cleaning the bathtub. I got out a fresh, new Brillo Pad, and then the phone rang. I set the Brillo Pad down on the tub and walked into the living room to answer the phone. Wrong number, it turns out. So I go back into the bathroom, and am greeted by my little brown helper, who has blue soap powder all over his little brown snout and lining his little puppy lips. And there is no trace of said Brillo Pad, save for a tiny shard of steel wool lying at his feet. I opened his jaws as wide as a Hungry Hungry Hippo, and see a streak of blue going all the way down his little puppy throat. I then uttered the strangest sentence of my life. "My dog ate the Brillo Pad."
I frantically called our Vet, but remember, I had just gotten home from work. Which means it's about 5:30, and the regular Vet closes at 5:00. So I call the Emergency Vet. They don't open til 6:00. Of course. Whoever left a one hour span of Vetlessness between regular Vet hours and Emergency Vet hours has obviously never owned an Austin. Anyway, after about 72 desperate voicemails left by yours truly, they called me back. I explained the whole thing to the skeptical receptionist, who informed me that I could try to make the dog throw up by feeding him peroxide, but then the B.P. might get lodged in his esophagus and choke him. I vetoed that option. Even though choking him did sound tempting. But we're talking about the same dog that used to lick the hot pepper "don't chew the furniture" spray like it was coffee table seasoning. I doubted peroxide would affect his iron belly negatively. Our other option was to let him try to digest and poop out the B.P., but since it is literally made of tiny strands of sharp metal, I vetoed that option, fearing canine colon surgery might be in our future. And if anyone in our household is going to have colon surgery, it's not going to be an animal. Or me. So Stew and I loaded up Black Betty and drove our little Austin Ambulance down to the Emergency Vet.
They put us in a tiny exam room and lined about 95% of the floor with newspaper, you know, for the REGURGITATION. The doc then explained that the solution to our little "issue" would be to give the dog a couple vials of this powder stuff that gets put in the dog's eyes, which then causes their central nervous system to freak out and make them nauseated, and then puke up the "foreign object." He assured us that 2 of these vials usually do the trick. If not, you wait 10 minutes and then give 'em 2 more vials. Never has it taken more than 6 vials. TEN vials later, my pup starts drooling and stumbling and we're all "Oooh, he's about to vomit," and he makes his way over to the only corner of the room that's not lined with newspaper (of course) and with a giant heave-ho, ralphs up.....a MUSHROOM SLICE. Not a Brillo Pad. But a slice of friggin' fungi. The Vet shoots me a cynical glance and I'm all "I swear to you, He really did swallow a Brillo Pad. And no, I don't have a clue where he found a slice of mushroom to consume." So 2 more vials (for a total of TWELVE) and the dog finally yaks up the piece de' resistance - a whole, intact Brillo Pad. I'm assuming that B.P. soap is not toxic, because in no way were his stomach acids tinted blue, so he must have digested that part without a hitch.
Just shy of $300 later, we were on our way home with a furry brown stomach that was as empty as our wallet. Luckily, we were wise enough to enroll our little health hazard in a pet insurance plan a couple years earlier, and they reimbursed us almost 2/3 of the bill. Much easier to swallow, pun intended.
Moral of the story is to never clean your bathroom. Or just have your dog's jaw wired shut. Either or.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Spanxgiving
Oh yeah, you read that right. And yes, I totally am thankful for Spanx. If only they would make a pair that included a trap door so you could pee without becoming an amateur Cirque du Soleil contortionist while trying to hike them back up into position in a cramped bathroom stall. TMI? Good, that's what I was aiming for.
Other stuff for which I am thankful:
My Folks who love me 110% (and not because I'm the one who will eventually choose their nursing home).
My Broseph and Brotherford B. Hayes who are far more musically and artistically talented than I could ever hope to be.
My Abbey Sunshine who eased my fear of young children and is always excited to see me despite the fact that I fed her limes as a baby just to see the awkward faces she made in reaction to the sourness.
My Puppy McMuffin who regretfully knows more about me than anyone, and hasn't yet reported me to PETA for making him wear fake boobs for Halloween.
My In-Laws and Extended Family - for not being those crazy people who I can't stand spending time with and instead being those crazy people I LOVE spending time with.
My Friends who will let me snot on their shoulders when I'm sad, then make fun of me for it later.
My Husband who puts the "ew" in Stewzie, who I fall in love with more every day, who still can't figure out how to separate whites and darks, who makes phenomenal chocolate chip cookies and even shares one or two with me, and who has seen me at my best and my worst, but always loves me like I've never been better.
Other stuff for which I am thankful:
My Folks who love me 110% (and not because I'm the one who will eventually choose their nursing home).
My Broseph and Brotherford B. Hayes who are far more musically and artistically talented than I could ever hope to be.
My Abbey Sunshine who eased my fear of young children and is always excited to see me despite the fact that I fed her limes as a baby just to see the awkward faces she made in reaction to the sourness.
My Puppy McMuffin who regretfully knows more about me than anyone, and hasn't yet reported me to PETA for making him wear fake boobs for Halloween.
My In-Laws and Extended Family - for not being those crazy people who I can't stand spending time with and instead being those crazy people I LOVE spending time with.
My Friends who will let me snot on their shoulders when I'm sad, then make fun of me for it later.
My Husband who puts the "ew" in Stewzie, who I fall in love with more every day, who still can't figure out how to separate whites and darks, who makes phenomenal chocolate chip cookies and even shares one or two with me, and who has seen me at my best and my worst, but always loves me like I've never been better.
Friday, November 6, 2009
No, We will NOT Love You Long Time.
Austin Gone Wild - He'll use any excuse to put on a slutty little outfit for Halloween. That one is such a little vixen. Sometimes I just can't control him. But tempting him with a large piece of deer jerky and SIT. SIT. SIT!!! usually helps.
Toxic Chinese Drywall - After parading around dowtown and hearing "Memoirs of a Geisha?" "Are you supposed to be someone from Kill Bill?" I realized this year's costume was better suited to a costume party...or even a class action lawsuit. But I still say this was the best idea ever, even if people couldn't understand that 1) I have large FLESH WOUNDS. 2) I'm CHINESE. 3) I'm wearing a RUSTY PIECE OF SHEETROCK with a TOXIC WARNING symbol and MANUFACTURED IN CHINA label on it. I even had sheetrock tape and mud on the sides for authenticity. It's in the details, people! I dressed like a diseased Asian lunatic and lugged around a slab of construction material ON PURPOSE. Simple math leads you to TOXIC CHINESE DRYWALL. I'm pretty sure my biggest mistake was in assuming that people on Bourbon Street would be interested in doing simple math on Halloween...
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Nappy McNapperson
On a recent day off from work - due to yours truly feeling a bit under the weather - I did what any red-blooded American would do. I took a NAP. Why the NAP in caps? Because NAPPING is one of the many (few) talents I possess. So it deserves some respect.
I had fancy new (clean!) 400 thread count white sheets on the bed. The NAPPING conditions were perfect, aside from the backhoes, excavators and concrete trucks parading in my front yard to build a new driveway for the neighbor who had her house raised because it NEVER flooded. NAPPING through noise, luckily, is not so much of a challenge for me.
Which reminds me of a story Stew likes to tell about the time he was awoken out of a deep slumber to the sound of a squirrel who had fallen inside our bedroom wall. Said squirrel (who will now be referred to as Richard) was scratching his little squirrel heart out in an attempt to make his way back to the comfort of our attic. Richard was making quite a little squirrel ruckus, and Stew did the only logical thing to do when Richard is stuck in your wall at 3:00 a.m. He grabbed the trusty Maglite and commenced to beating the crap outta the sheetrock. For a solid 2 hours. Because apparently squirrels respond well to that. Guess who slept through the whole thing? If an elephant strapped on a tuba and played Yankee Doodle Dandee while marching across my mattress, guess who would sleep through the whole thing?
Where was I? Right. NAPTIME. So I snuggle myself up and conk out. And I wake up to 100 lbs. of fuzzy brown puppy snores. His back right foot is tucked under my armpit and his fat meatball head is upside down between my shins. My right arm is pretzeled between his left leg and tail. Pause for a moment and visualize a human and Chocolate lab conjoined twin. And we can't be separated cause of the proximity of vital organs. So Snugglebritches looks up and says to me "uurrghmmfff," and then stretches his limbs so far that his toes and my sinuses become fast friends. Then we both drift back off to Lala Land. Me dreaming about how lucky I am that he chose Stew's side of the clean white sheets, and Sleepy McGee dreaming about bacon and well, bacon.
Point is, sometimes dogs eat your Irish Spring soap and drool toilet water all over your the kitchen floor you just mopped. Other times, they know just what you need to feel better on a sick day.
I had fancy new (clean!) 400 thread count white sheets on the bed. The NAPPING conditions were perfect, aside from the backhoes, excavators and concrete trucks parading in my front yard to build a new driveway for the neighbor who had her house raised because it NEVER flooded. NAPPING through noise, luckily, is not so much of a challenge for me.
Which reminds me of a story Stew likes to tell about the time he was awoken out of a deep slumber to the sound of a squirrel who had fallen inside our bedroom wall. Said squirrel (who will now be referred to as Richard) was scratching his little squirrel heart out in an attempt to make his way back to the comfort of our attic. Richard was making quite a little squirrel ruckus, and Stew did the only logical thing to do when Richard is stuck in your wall at 3:00 a.m. He grabbed the trusty Maglite and commenced to beating the crap outta the sheetrock. For a solid 2 hours. Because apparently squirrels respond well to that. Guess who slept through the whole thing? If an elephant strapped on a tuba and played Yankee Doodle Dandee while marching across my mattress, guess who would sleep through the whole thing?
Where was I? Right. NAPTIME. So I snuggle myself up and conk out. And I wake up to 100 lbs. of fuzzy brown puppy snores. His back right foot is tucked under my armpit and his fat meatball head is upside down between my shins. My right arm is pretzeled between his left leg and tail. Pause for a moment and visualize a human and Chocolate lab conjoined twin. And we can't be separated cause of the proximity of vital organs. So Snugglebritches looks up and says to me "uurrghmmfff," and then stretches his limbs so far that his toes and my sinuses become fast friends. Then we both drift back off to Lala Land. Me dreaming about how lucky I am that he chose Stew's side of the clean white sheets, and Sleepy McGee dreaming about bacon and well, bacon.
Point is, sometimes dogs eat your Irish Spring soap and drool toilet water all over your the kitchen floor you just mopped. Other times, they know just what you need to feel better on a sick day.
Christmas afternoon nap - 2008
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Questionnaire Friday!
1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
I was in the shower. The blue one. Singing loudly. Show tunes. Jazz Hands!
2. Who are you in love with?
Stewart Sir Alexander von Sexypants Alexis. And also the other love of my life, Austin Whisker Biscuits Alexis.
3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
Can’t say that I have. But if I did, it would surely be wrapped in bacon.
4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
There is my previous post about the pink bunny suit. Does that count? Because it’s VERY pink.
5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
Right after I over-applied black eyeliner, threw on my skull and crossbones hoodie, painted my nails onyx, and had my mom drop me off so I could meet my other emo friends at Hot Topic.
6. Are you wearing socks right now?
Neither socks nor shoes. At work. Hang on, OSHA is on the other line.
7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
That’s debatable. Black Betty is worth diamonds and gold to me. Kelley Blue Book disagrees. Just over 2 grand for trade-in value. Close to 3 grand for private party value.
8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
I went to our hunting camp in Miz-sippi about a month ago. But technically Stew drove. Cause of me having a tiny woman brain and all.
9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
Ugh, no. And I’m dying to see Saw 6. Cause now after spending a good 10 hours of my life watching Saws 1-5, I figure I’m emotionally and financially invested.
10. Are you hot?
Not right now. Thanks to the cool front reported by Bob Breck. And his hair. His glossy, silvery, Lloyd Christmas hair. Take a moment of silence, please.
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
An iced grande dark roast with skim milk and one Sweet-n-Low. Not because I’m pretentious though. Because you have to speak Barista slang in order for them to get your stupid coffee order right. Plus, we were out of Folgers at the office.
12. What are you wearing right now?
The same outfit as in question 5. Because my mom is picking me up in the mini van later. She better give me my allowance so I can get some Sbarro at the food court.
13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
I usually let the rain wash it. But I highly recommend taking your neurotic dog along in the back seat when you go thru the car wash. It’s a hoot.
14. Last food that you ate?
A bacon wrapped crayon.
15. Where were you last week at this time?
I was in the shower. The blue one. Rapping to Snoop Dogg. One, two, three and to the Fo.
16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
Don’t worry Stew, no pink bunny suits. Yet.
17. When is the last time you ran?
While walking the dog 2 days ago. He pooped on someone’s driveway and we needed to make ourselves scarce. Fast.
18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
Saints vs. Dolphins. Black and Gold Superbowl, baybee! Life’s a Brees!
19. What is your favorite animal?
A mutilated Dolphin. See above. Almost as much as a decapitated Falcon. See Monday.
20. Your dream vacation?
Ideally, early retirement. If we’re being honest.
21. Last person's house you were in?
My own. And it smells like dried Bambi carcass. Because Stew is currently making deer jerky in the dehydrator.
22. Worst injury you've ever had?
That one time Stew play-tackled me and I fell into our entertainment center (which, at that time was composed of cinder blocks and plywood, because we’re classy like that) and I sliced my elbow open and gallons of blood squirted all over the city of University Place, WA (Hi Washington friends!) and I couldn’t lift my arm for weeks and I still have a scar and I made Stew feel really bad about it for oh, 8 years now? Don’t worry, he made sure I didn’t dent the cinder blocks.
23. Have you been in love?
Well, I do love Stew. And Austin. And lamp.
24. What makes you laugh?
When my dog burps. When my mom refers to M.C. Hammer as McHammer. Christopher Walken. And this website: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/
25. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
Duct tape and death threats. With a confident smile.
I was in the shower. The blue one. Singing loudly. Show tunes. Jazz Hands!
2. Who are you in love with?
Stewart Sir Alexander von Sexypants Alexis. And also the other love of my life, Austin Whisker Biscuits Alexis.
3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
Can’t say that I have. But if I did, it would surely be wrapped in bacon.
4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
There is my previous post about the pink bunny suit. Does that count? Because it’s VERY pink.
5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
Right after I over-applied black eyeliner, threw on my skull and crossbones hoodie, painted my nails onyx, and had my mom drop me off so I could meet my other emo friends at Hot Topic.
6. Are you wearing socks right now?
Neither socks nor shoes. At work. Hang on, OSHA is on the other line.
7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
That’s debatable. Black Betty is worth diamonds and gold to me. Kelley Blue Book disagrees. Just over 2 grand for trade-in value. Close to 3 grand for private party value.
8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
I went to our hunting camp in Miz-sippi about a month ago. But technically Stew drove. Cause of me having a tiny woman brain and all.
9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
Ugh, no. And I’m dying to see Saw 6. Cause now after spending a good 10 hours of my life watching Saws 1-5, I figure I’m emotionally and financially invested.
10. Are you hot?
Not right now. Thanks to the cool front reported by Bob Breck. And his hair. His glossy, silvery, Lloyd Christmas hair. Take a moment of silence, please.
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
An iced grande dark roast with skim milk and one Sweet-n-Low. Not because I’m pretentious though. Because you have to speak Barista slang in order for them to get your stupid coffee order right. Plus, we were out of Folgers at the office.
12. What are you wearing right now?
The same outfit as in question 5. Because my mom is picking me up in the mini van later. She better give me my allowance so I can get some Sbarro at the food court.
13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
I usually let the rain wash it. But I highly recommend taking your neurotic dog along in the back seat when you go thru the car wash. It’s a hoot.
14. Last food that you ate?
A bacon wrapped crayon.
15. Where were you last week at this time?
I was in the shower. The blue one. Rapping to Snoop Dogg. One, two, three and to the Fo.
16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
Don’t worry Stew, no pink bunny suits. Yet.
17. When is the last time you ran?
While walking the dog 2 days ago. He pooped on someone’s driveway and we needed to make ourselves scarce. Fast.
18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
Saints vs. Dolphins. Black and Gold Superbowl, baybee! Life’s a Brees!
19. What is your favorite animal?
A mutilated Dolphin. See above. Almost as much as a decapitated Falcon. See Monday.
20. Your dream vacation?
Ideally, early retirement. If we’re being honest.
21. Last person's house you were in?
My own. And it smells like dried Bambi carcass. Because Stew is currently making deer jerky in the dehydrator.
22. Worst injury you've ever had?
That one time Stew play-tackled me and I fell into our entertainment center (which, at that time was composed of cinder blocks and plywood, because we’re classy like that) and I sliced my elbow open and gallons of blood squirted all over the city of University Place, WA (Hi Washington friends!) and I couldn’t lift my arm for weeks and I still have a scar and I made Stew feel really bad about it for oh, 8 years now? Don’t worry, he made sure I didn’t dent the cinder blocks.
23. Have you been in love?
Well, I do love Stew. And Austin. And lamp.
24. What makes you laugh?
When my dog burps. When my mom refers to M.C. Hammer as McHammer. Christopher Walken. And this website: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/
25. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
Duct tape and death threats. With a confident smile.
Friday, October 23, 2009
This is the official kickoff to what will now be referred to as QUESTIONNAIRE FRIDAYS!
Why, you ask? Because I can. Plus, it gives me something to do besides work. Tedious, tedious work. Too much working involved in work, don't you think?
What are your middle names?
Mine = Leigh. His = Sir Alexander von Sexypants
Who is the oldest?
He gets the privilege of being older than me from March 16th – May 3rd. It is during this time that I tease him mercilessly about wearing Depends and breaking a hip. Somebody needs a Medic-Alert bracelet!
Did you grow up in the same city?
Mostly. He hails from the sprawling metropolis of Metairie and I spent my youth representing Da Ridge (by the river).
How long have you been together?
Good grief, this answer makes me feel as old as he is during the dates mentioned above, but here goes. We “officially” started dating on July 3rd, 1998. So according to my stellar math skills….uh…carry the 1…a little over 11 years.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
Probably mine. Mostly because they are in the same age range as us. Nothing to do with how awesome my siblings are…I mean, have you met my brothers? (hi Jeremy! and Tim!) His are pretty awesome too…just in a much younger way.
Do you have any children together?
You had to go there, didn’t you, Mr. Evil Questionnaire. Did my mom tell you to ask this one? No kids. Just a dog. That’s a big JUST. And a big DOG.
Do you have any pets?
Why yes we do. Austin. Chocolate Lab to the Stars. If you’re lucky, there will be much a-blogging about my neurotic little Puppy McPupperson in the future.
Did you go to the same school?
Same preschool, Kindergarten, and 1st grade, yes. It’s actually where we met. Same 2nd – 9th grades, no. Same 10th – 12th grades, yes.
Who is the most sensitive?
Did I tell you about that one time I gave him a knuckle sandwich because he told me those jeans did, in fact, make my butt look big? Well, that never happened. Let this serve as a warning from Mrs. Sensitivity.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Probably his Granny’s house. Her meatballs and spaghetti could heal the lame and cause the blind man to see.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
There was that Spring Break we spent in the jungles of Africa. We taught baby chimpanzees to read and make sustainable clothing from all the leftover banana peels. It makes you feel good to see a monkey wearing a banana scarf and reading Curious George to his grandkids. We truly made a difference.
Who has the worst temper?
Here we go with the emotions again. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I however, would lure all the homeless, desperate flies in by promising them all the free poop in the world to feast on. Then I would commence to swatting them all in one fell swoop.
Who does the cooking?
I mostly do. Sometimes it only involves defrosting and microwaving but I’M TOO TIRED TOO COOK TONIGHT. Pizza is what’s for dinner. Unless we have something to grill. Then the responsibilities are split between him and George Foreman. Don’t even get me started on who is and isn’t allowed to bake the chocolate chip cookies. He has threatened many a time to taking out a restraining order against me for daring to come near his precious Pillsburys.
Who's more social?
It’s a toss-up. I need more me (napping) time.
Who is the neat freak?
The neighbors.
Who is more stubborn?
I say him, but he would probably stubbornly disagree. With a lot of stubbornness in his voice.
Who hogs the bed?
I’m pretty sure my limbs sprout out new, multiple limbs during the night. I have no control over these foreign limbs. I blame them for all the kicking, elbowing and cover stealing.
Who wakes up earlier?
He does. I tend to play the “keep hitting the snooze button until it’s an hour later and the exasperated alarm has given up on me and now we’re late for work” game.
Where was your first date?
We never really had a first date. But on the day we started dating we went to the Spillway and he gave me a pair of his pants to wear because of all the mosquitoes. Who needs romance when there is a threat of contracting the West Nile virus? Not me. That sealed the deal.
Where was your first kiss?
On a baseball field at my company’s cabbage ball tournament. That, my friends, was indeed romantic.
Who has the bigger family?
I think I have a smaller family in order to keep track of his enormous one. He often asks me “Whose kid is that again?” It’s your brother, Stewart.
Do you get flowers often?
Sometimes when I’m at Home Depot picking up some plumbing fixtures and tile grout, I browse the outdoor section and pick up an annual or two.
How long did it take for it to get serious?
After a lifetime of knowing each other, we only dated for 3 ½ months before he asked me to be his bride.
Who eats more?
I’ll go with him. Because if I eat more he’ll say my butt looks big in those jeans. And we all know how that turns out.
Who sings better?
You don’t have to ask me twice to channel Janis Joplin and belt out a spot on performance of Bobby McGee on karaoke night. But he is the master of coming up with random lyrics around the house. Behold the wonderous composition of Stewart Mozart Alexis: Suzie Q, I love you, Now I’m gonna go take a poo. Next stop: The GRAMMY AWARDS.
Who does the laundry?
It’s a shared task. But lawd help me if he puts his whites in the dark basket one more time…
Who’s better with the computer?
He probably cares more. He enjoys de-fragging.
Who drives when you are together?
Paw Paw does. Cause of me having a tiny woman brain and all.
Who picks where you go to dinner?
I’m the dinner-picker. I like to venture into new territories, food-wise.
Who eats more sweets?
Sweetie has the sweet tooth. I’m known to gnaw on a pork chop for dessert.
Who wears the pants in the relationship?
He wears the pants. I pick out which ones.
P.S. I couldn't live without him.
Why, you ask? Because I can. Plus, it gives me something to do besides work. Tedious, tedious work. Too much working involved in work, don't you think?
What are your middle names?
Mine = Leigh. His = Sir Alexander von Sexypants
Who is the oldest?
He gets the privilege of being older than me from March 16th – May 3rd. It is during this time that I tease him mercilessly about wearing Depends and breaking a hip. Somebody needs a Medic-Alert bracelet!
Did you grow up in the same city?
Mostly. He hails from the sprawling metropolis of Metairie and I spent my youth representing Da Ridge (by the river).
How long have you been together?
Good grief, this answer makes me feel as old as he is during the dates mentioned above, but here goes. We “officially” started dating on July 3rd, 1998. So according to my stellar math skills….uh…carry the 1…a little over 11 years.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
Probably mine. Mostly because they are in the same age range as us. Nothing to do with how awesome my siblings are…I mean, have you met my brothers? (hi Jeremy! and Tim!) His are pretty awesome too…just in a much younger way.
Do you have any children together?
You had to go there, didn’t you, Mr. Evil Questionnaire. Did my mom tell you to ask this one? No kids. Just a dog. That’s a big JUST. And a big DOG.
Do you have any pets?
Why yes we do. Austin. Chocolate Lab to the Stars. If you’re lucky, there will be much a-blogging about my neurotic little Puppy McPupperson in the future.
Did you go to the same school?
Same preschool, Kindergarten, and 1st grade, yes. It’s actually where we met. Same 2nd – 9th grades, no. Same 10th – 12th grades, yes.
Who is the most sensitive?
Did I tell you about that one time I gave him a knuckle sandwich because he told me those jeans did, in fact, make my butt look big? Well, that never happened. Let this serve as a warning from Mrs. Sensitivity.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Probably his Granny’s house. Her meatballs and spaghetti could heal the lame and cause the blind man to see.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
There was that Spring Break we spent in the jungles of Africa. We taught baby chimpanzees to read and make sustainable clothing from all the leftover banana peels. It makes you feel good to see a monkey wearing a banana scarf and reading Curious George to his grandkids. We truly made a difference.
Who has the worst temper?
Here we go with the emotions again. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I however, would lure all the homeless, desperate flies in by promising them all the free poop in the world to feast on. Then I would commence to swatting them all in one fell swoop.
Who does the cooking?
I mostly do. Sometimes it only involves defrosting and microwaving but I’M TOO TIRED TOO COOK TONIGHT. Pizza is what’s for dinner. Unless we have something to grill. Then the responsibilities are split between him and George Foreman. Don’t even get me started on who is and isn’t allowed to bake the chocolate chip cookies. He has threatened many a time to taking out a restraining order against me for daring to come near his precious Pillsburys.
Who's more social?
It’s a toss-up. I need more me (napping) time.
Who is the neat freak?
The neighbors.
Who is more stubborn?
I say him, but he would probably stubbornly disagree. With a lot of stubbornness in his voice.
Who hogs the bed?
I’m pretty sure my limbs sprout out new, multiple limbs during the night. I have no control over these foreign limbs. I blame them for all the kicking, elbowing and cover stealing.
Who wakes up earlier?
He does. I tend to play the “keep hitting the snooze button until it’s an hour later and the exasperated alarm has given up on me and now we’re late for work” game.
Where was your first date?
We never really had a first date. But on the day we started dating we went to the Spillway and he gave me a pair of his pants to wear because of all the mosquitoes. Who needs romance when there is a threat of contracting the West Nile virus? Not me. That sealed the deal.
Where was your first kiss?
On a baseball field at my company’s cabbage ball tournament. That, my friends, was indeed romantic.
Who has the bigger family?
I think I have a smaller family in order to keep track of his enormous one. He often asks me “Whose kid is that again?” It’s your brother, Stewart.
Do you get flowers often?
Sometimes when I’m at Home Depot picking up some plumbing fixtures and tile grout, I browse the outdoor section and pick up an annual or two.
How long did it take for it to get serious?
After a lifetime of knowing each other, we only dated for 3 ½ months before he asked me to be his bride.
Who eats more?
I’ll go with him. Because if I eat more he’ll say my butt looks big in those jeans. And we all know how that turns out.
Who sings better?
You don’t have to ask me twice to channel Janis Joplin and belt out a spot on performance of Bobby McGee on karaoke night. But he is the master of coming up with random lyrics around the house. Behold the wonderous composition of Stewart Mozart Alexis: Suzie Q, I love you, Now I’m gonna go take a poo. Next stop: The GRAMMY AWARDS.
Who does the laundry?
It’s a shared task. But lawd help me if he puts his whites in the dark basket one more time…
Who’s better with the computer?
He probably cares more. He enjoys de-fragging.
Who drives when you are together?
Paw Paw does. Cause of me having a tiny woman brain and all.
Who picks where you go to dinner?
I’m the dinner-picker. I like to venture into new territories, food-wise.
Who eats more sweets?
Sweetie has the sweet tooth. I’m known to gnaw on a pork chop for dessert.
Who wears the pants in the relationship?
He wears the pants. I pick out which ones.
P.S. I couldn't live without him.
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