Every year the MD SPCA has a March for the Animals to help raise funds for its animal rescue efforts. Although they are a Maryland area charity, they lend aid to rescues all around, taking in rescues from neighboring states and sometimes even further afield. If you hang around here often, you know animal charities are a cause near and dear to my heart and that we donate a portion of the profits from this website to those causes.
If you’d like to help us help the beasts, please consider helping us out for this fundraiser and making a donation. Every little bit helps, and as always purchases on this site help us raise funds for the animals.
We’ll be collecting for the March For the Animals fundraiser now through April 17th. Look for some special fundraiser merchandise to go on sale in the next couple of weeks.
The other day I was hanging out with some friends and they overheard my wife say “don’t poke the bear.” I think I was asking if we could watch like 400 hours of football on Sunday(her words, not mine) instead of cleaning the house or something. My friend burst out laughing. “That’s great! ‘Don’t poke the bear’, I love it.” It got me thinking about some of the other verbal shorthand I use and verbal shorthand in general.
First let me say, I love verbal shorthand. I love a little inside joke with a loved one that expresses an idea in only a few words. I don’t mean things like LOL or BRB, although I do use those online like every other 21st century netizen. Here are some examples of what I mean…
Don’t poke the bear – This is what we say in our house when one of us is beginning to grow annoyed with the other one. If my wife sends me to the store for peanut butter and then calls as I’m already in the check out lane to say we need toilet paper I tell her “You are poking the bear.” It’s something said kind of playfully to diffuse a potentially annoying situation one of us is creating.
Too much hello – We say this when we have to go to a really boring social event full of extremely boring people. Do you remember in the beginning of the movie Sixteen Candles when Molly Ringwald’s grandparents arrive and perkily comment on her developing breasts? Imagine that same level of perkiness, but with the only exchange being “Hello!” and maybe commentary about the weather or the hors d’oeuvres spread, followed by nervous smiles and awkward pauses.
Oh, skycake – We say this when confronted with religious lunacy. It’s a reference to a Patton Oswalt bit. Patton talks about how he believes religion started because big bullies were going around beating up the little smart guys, thus the little smart guys convinced all the thugs that if they would lay off the murder and rape they’d go to heaven and it would be full of delicious cake. He goes on to say that the problem began when other thugs heard heaven was full of delicious pie and thus the religious wars began. So now, when we hear about some psycho bombing a clinic we say “oh skycake.” Shorthand for our exasperation with religious zealotry.
Positivity ‘09 – (soon to be positivity 2010)- This is said sarcastically when one of us is in a bad mood. My wife will be going on about getting stuck in traffic and having to go to the DMV and our furnace breaking down in the middle of winter and I’ll say “Positivity ‘09, honey”. We stole this from friends of ours who say it with complete sincerity when one of them is in a bad mood and the other is reminding that they should try to maintain a positive outlook. Since we revel in cynicism around here (we do live on the east coast, after all), my wife would probably smack me if I said this to her sincerely. When said jokingly, it usually gets a chuckle around here.
So what shorthand do you use with your friends and family? What does it mean and where did it come from?
I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. We had a nice time at the Ex-Boyfriend household. My 85 year old grandma came to spend a few days with us and we ate our body weight in Tofurky and apple pie. My wife asked my grandmother what she’d like for Christmas, and she replied “I think I’d like a discman. I have a walkman but I can’t find tapes for it any more.”
“I don’t think they make those any more,” my wife said “But we can get you an mp3 player.”
“How many CDs can I listen to on that?” Grandma asks.
“All of them,” replied my wife, trying to suppress a chuckle “every CD you now own and ever will own. Plus the mp3 player won’t skip and it’s really small, it will fit in your pocket.”
“Because I have about TWENTY CDs” grandma says, suspicious that perhaps her overwhelming collection of music won’t fit on the mystical mp3 player.
“I think we’ll be able to make that work” my wife assures her.
Later we showed Grandma our iphones. I really can’t wait til I am 85. I bet by then iphones will have a teleportation feature. The future is neat.
So, as I’ve blogged before, my wife and I are pretty active volunteers at the local SPCA. Our love of companion animals is well-documented throughout the site, from our tee designs to our philanthropicendeavors, but it also carries over into the three dimensional world.
About a month ago, we got a call from the volunteer coordinator over at the SPCA asking if we’d be able to foster a pair of puppies for a couple of weeks until they were old enough to be spayed and neutered before going up for adoption. Despite a split second of reticence brought on by memories of our first attempt at fostering a dog, I said “YES!” Cuteness trumps good sense 99.9% of the time.
So I drove up the next day on my lunch break to pick up Grace (fawn) and her brother Harlowe (black).
Enjoy the cuteness while it lasts!
About six hours later, I was seriously regretting my decision.
While these two are unassailably adorable, all of that goes out the window when they’re, y’know, awake. It’s ridiculous how much energy and poop is contained in those tiny bodies. I feel like the Ms. and I spent two weeks just following these two around with paper towels and sanitary wipes. The good news is, these two were both adopted on their first day of eligibility. As much of a headache as they were, I wanted nothing more than for them to end up in a loving home as soon as possible. As great as the staff and facilities at the Maryland SPCA are, a 2′3 kennel is a 2′3 kennel, and the best thing for these guys is a lot of space where they can run around, if only to tire them out so they revert to their cute and unconscious state. It’s kind of funny how they’d run and wrestle and scamper non-stop for 20 minutes, and then just more or less keel over onto their blanket and pass out. ON or OFF, there is no dimmer switch!
For whatever reason, being an SPCA foster parent tends to be something of a feast-or-famine proposition. Once we’d been approved as foster parents last January, it was a whole two months before we got a call asking us to care for an animal. After that 10-day stint, it was another two and a half months before our next call. Then, we get the call for Grace & Harlowe in mid-October, and the day we returned them two weeks later, we were sent home with 18-month old Jezebel and her six kittens!
Nom nom nom!
Nom nom nom!
Originally (and imaginatively) named Momcat and 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, we slowly over the last two weeks got to know every member of the family on an intimate (very intimate—you should have seen the state of that litter box every 6-12 hours; yikes!) level. Being the jailbait strumpet single mom of six, Momcat became Jezebel.
Her brood is made up of two boys, Chunk and Thor, and four girls: Pixie, Rosebud, Clementine, and Valentina.
Sleepy Valentina
Rosebud!
EPIC CUTENESS.
Unlike Grace & Harlowe, these guys were a little more manageable when awake; small size and quiet voices are like that.
While we love every last one of these guys, I can say that I hope we get a little time off now. I miss living in a two bathroom household!
OMG , guys, I have been too busy to even tell you what I’ve been too busy with. How is it November already? My camera is busting at the seams with pictures I am going to share with you guys. We saw some amazing Halloween revelers over the weekend around our ‘hood and we’re fostering the super cutest puppies for the SPCA!!! They’ve actually kept me too busy to even post their pix but I do have them and they’re coming up soon.
Second, some heartwarming local doggy news to be had right here. This story made me tear up a little. It’s the kind of thing that restores your faith in humans. You can also find an update to the story here. We love when good things happen for critters around here.
We watch a lot of cable news in our household. We like to be informed. Mostly we watch MSNBC because we’re such bleeding heart commies, but I digress. Anyway, you know you watch too much cable news when their anchors start showing up in your dreams. Last night I had a dream that Campbell Brown, Anderson Cooper, Dana Bash, Wolf Blitzer and Lou Dobbs all broke into my house.
I was walking up to my place and saw that most of them were hanging out on the stoop watching out for cops. Lou Dobbs was inside looting the place. He’d broken in with a crowbar. He’d totally busted up my front door which I’d just recently replaced. I was pretty pissed. I cornered Lou Dobbs and told him to get the fuck out. I told him I’d just bought a brand new front door and he’d broken it. I went on to tell him that since my house is ancient, I had to have that door custom-made for my non-standard doorway and it was extra expensive. He pulled out his wallet and tried to offer me $3.00. (What kind of burglar offers to pay for the damage he’s done? Lou Fucking Dobbs, that’s who.) I told him I didn’t want his lousy $3.00, I just wanted him gone and told him that this is why his ratings suck and he’ll probably get canceled.
So yeah, a street gang comprised of CNN hosts is pretty ridiculous. Dorkiest gang ever. Of course it’s even dorkier that I had a dream about CNN hosts instead of real celebrities. I need to start watching more E! or something so I can dream about ice skating with Kardashians and Ryan Seacrest. Otherwise, I wish at least Rachel Maddow would pop into my dreams. I hear she makes a mean martini.
Some of you may recall that I rescued an abandoned cat this past spring. We named him Bigby, which is how it’s pronounced, really his name is Big B. as in Big Bad Cat. This cat is definitely big (17 lbs) and definitely bad. Some of his favorite antics include hitting us, trying to trip us, trying to steal our food, trying to maul us when we trim his claws, and trying to paw at my wife’s boobs. This cat is a straight up thug. I guess you can take the cat out of the street…
Any way, my wife has insisted we get this cat a muzzle for grooming. Who knew they even made cat muzzles? Well they do, and this is some freaky S&M kitty gear. Just in time for Halloween even. Too bad we can’t make him hand out candy, he’d definitely scare the children.
This blog’s been quiet, along with the rest of my usual online haunts, because I went on a road trip. Now I’m back with exciting tales and pictures.
First we flew into Los Angeles, my first time on the west coast! LA was sprawling, the traffic was as awful as I’d heard it was, everything was crazy-expensive. I got to see my buddy Gary, who I don’t see nearly often enough, we ate amazing food, I got to see the Hollywood Hills, the Hollywood sign (I am such a tourist), Griffith Observatory (mmm… space stuff), and Venice Beach (glorious spectacle of crazy tourists, truckloads of marijuana, and muscle men in thongs!). We also went drinking at some fun bars and I caught sight of Adam Goldberg and Wilco’s Nels Cline (Yay obscure celebrity sightings! Better than A-list celeb sightings even.). I made out with my wife in a photo booth.
My wife in ridiculous shades on Venice Beach
View of LA Hills from Griffith Observatory
Because I’m a foodie, I have lots to report about the local eateries. We ate lunch at Vegan Glory, which serves up Thai vegan food, as well as vegan versions of typical southern Cali fare (tacos, burritos, avocado on EVERYTHING, etc). Yum! Everything was awesome, but the portions were mammoth, so we probably gained 20 lbs there. We also got vegan gelato at Scoops (coffee cardamom and banana oreo, mmm). The most impressive meals were at Madeline’s Bistro and Fatty’s and Co. Both were completely fantastic. Fatty’s had the most perfect kale I’ve ever eaten. I know kale sounds like an odd thing to rave about but trust me, this kale was perfect.
Next we made our way up the PCH to San Francisco. Locals told me this was an eight hour undertaking. Try thirteen! If I were to do this again I’d get on the PCH north of San Luis Obispo. It’s less scenic south of there, and the traffic is just awful. It took 3 hours to get out of the LA area! Malibu was just a beach, I could have passed on it. All of this said, the trek was worth it. The views on PCH are totally not to be missed. Completely breathtaking. The coolest stop along the way (and there are lots of great scenic overlooks) is Ragged Point, where you are invited to hike down the side of a cliff! We gave that a go but gave up about halfway down; it was taking too long and falling and killing ourselves seemed likely. We were so much in awe of this drive that we’re already talking about when we can go back!
Totally insane cliff you can "hike" at Ragged Point.
Spectacular views along PCH
Romance on the PCH
Unfortunately, the drive took so long that our original dinner plans got changed and we ended up eating at a pescatarian restaurant called Weird Fish. Ok, let me be the first to say that my new rule is no more eating in restaurants named after things that sound like they will make you sick. About an hour after a seemingly innocuous vegan taco and a more menacing plate of fried pickles, my wife got violently ill. I blame the fried pickles but she insisted we try them since it was the weirdest thing on the menu. Sometimes weird is not good.
San Francisco was grittier and dirtier than I expected it to be. There are only 2 bridges into the city and one was closed during our visit, making getting around a real pain in the ass. N.B.: driving around Oakland while lost late at night and trying to get back across the bay is every bit as terrifying as I’d always imagined. Everything was crazy-expensive, all the restaurants were closed for Labor Day, and I wanted to throw my GPS out the window. On the bright side, the weather was lovely and once we got out of the city we had an amazing time hiking to the top of redwood trees in Muir Woods! We also drove out to Napa and ate at Ubuntu. Ubuntu’s chef was in Food & Wine’s top 20 last year and for good reason. The entire meal was completely perfect. I can’t wait to get this guy’s cookbook!
Peak of Muir Woods
Beautiful Salad at Ubutu, garnished with "beet dirt". Dehydrated beets and hazelnuts ground into edible "dirt".
The restaurant we were most excited to visit was San Francisco’s Millennium. This all-vegan gourmet restaurant didn’t disappoint; we actually stayed in SF an extra day just to eat here. The food and cocktails were all spectacular. The pecan-crusted tempeh was perfection.
Millennium Black Bean Torte
Millennium Heirloom Tomato Salad
One interesting and terrifying thing about San Francisco is that it is ridiculously hilly. When heading towards Golden Gate bridge you will find that the end of the street you’re driving on is not ahead of you, it’s underneath you! It looked like we were driving on a roller coaster. The streets are so steep you wonder how your car is actually going to stay affixed to them. This was the one time I didn’t miss my Yaris. I think it’s little engine might have burst. After San Francisco, we made our way up to Oregon and spent some time in Ashland, home of the Oregon Shakespeare festival.
Crazy steep San Francisco street.
Ashland is this small-town Utopia full of friendly artsy people. The streets are lined with independent shops and picturesque cottages with vibrant gardens. In this town fresh herbs like sage and rosemary grow wild. The sidewalks are lined with wild blackberry bushes and adorable little deer walk right up to you on the street. The city is full of public parks and surrounded by a tapestry of mountains and forests. I’m totally jealous in case you can’t tell. I want to live in Ashland, Oregon! My wife’s friend from college works at the Shakespeare festival and scored free tickets for us to one of the shows. After that we got delicious wine at a wine bar called Liquid Assets.
Friendly wild deer in Ashland's Lithia Park
Our last stop was Portland, Oregon. It was quite the vegan mecca, which was great for us. The best meal was at Portobello’s. We got truffle pate and really impressive vegan tiramisu. We also got to explore the International Rose Test Gardens. Roses galore! We had great fun at cocktail bar called Saucebox. A little too much fun really, the following morning was not so pretty. The cocktails were delicious though, I think our mistake was trying to drink all of them.
Although the trip was fun and action packed, we completely missed our cats. I think my wife missed them so much that it made her a little insane, because she said “we should get Oliver a phone. You know, so we can call him and see how he’s doing when we go out of town.” My darling, you have officially veered off into crazy cat lady territory.
If this keeps up I may have to start a blog entirely dedicated to exchanges with J at Safeway. This post may be a little TMI, but it’s too funny not to share, and I think it illustrates what a total weirdo J is. Earlier tonight the wife and I were making our usual late-night grocery run, and we were in need of some condoms. I said “maybe we should buy them another time, like when self check-out is open. I’m just cringing thinking about the terrible turn our conversation will take when J see these.”
My wife replied, “What am I, some embarrassed sixteen year old? I’m not going without because some grocery store cashier has something to say about my condoms.” You can see why I married this woman; she definitely has her priorities in order.
So as J is ringing us up, he mutters to my wife in a hushed voice “they never carry my favorite kind any more.” At this point J has already bagged our condoms and is now ringing up Luna bars.
“Luna bars?” my wife says in response to his comment.
“Noooo, the other thing,” and he points to our condoms.
“Oh,” says my wife.
“They’re called Trojans. They’re really good. They can’t keep them on the shelves here. As soon as we get them we sell out of them.”
“Uh huh,” my wife says.
“So I order them by mail!” he says with a delighted giggle. J is very clever. He continues, “they come in a big box that says TROJAN on the outside. Sooo embarrassing. And my postman drops them off right on my doorstep so all my neighbors can see what I ordered.”
I can see how that would be awkward, J. Kind of like how it’s awkward when the supermarket cashier insists on discussing his favorite kind of condoms with my wife. Just because we’re buying condoms doesn’t mean this is an invitation to discuss them. Thank goodness we’re not a couple of easily embarrassed teenagers who might, next time, choose to forgo the condoms altogether, rather than face an awkward conversation about them with a cashier.
My wife says next time we’re there she’s going to ask J to recommend a brand of tampons. He probably has thoughts about those too. Also, who is it that J is using these mail order condoms with? I can’t even imagine.
My wife and I have the following unfortunate routine: finish work around 6, pass out, wake up at 8:30 and go “WTF?! How did it get so late?!” We scramble out of bed and over to the gym for our daily work out and then hit the supermarket around 11pm to buy groceries for dinner. The most unfortunate part of this routine is the grocery store after 11pm, because there is always only one cashier, and this cashier is a complete freakshow.
To protect the freaky, I’ll call him J. J is approximately 19 years old and aspires to be Tom Cruise in Cocktail, but he looks like Napoleon Dynamite. He is interested in EVERYTHING and would love to chat with you about it, at length, while he juggles your groceries into bags with, what I am sure he consideres, dazzling flare. Every apple, jar of peanut butter and can of tomatoes must be flipped, tossed, caught and passed behind his back before it enters your shopping bag. All the while, J tells you about how he used to be a government assassin or wrestle alligators or race stock cars. By the time your celery and cereal have been both shaken and stirred you’re desperate to get the hell out of there, but J won’t stop yapping. He’s deep into a anecdote about the time he delivered triplets on a jet using nothing but a ballpoint pen and a nail file.
I have to wonder if J’s co-workers find him as annoying as I do. Every time I see his hair hovering above the check out aisle I cringe. I always hope in vain that someone, anyone, other than him is working. I’ll take the scary towny woman with the prison tats asking me “credit or debit” in that 20-packs-of-smokes-a-day-since-birth voice of hers over J any day. Sadly, prison tats has already clocked out for the night and it’s either face J or eat rice with soy sauce for dinner, an option my wife isn’t having.
Last night I was wearing a Red Menace tee as J rang me up. He cackled maniacally as if we were in on a secret joke together. “Dude, that shirt is awesome,” he said “almost as awesome as my PIMP shirt!”
“That would be hard to top,” I said politely. I mean, how do you respond to that any way?
“It’s got a Pi sign and M-P next to it? Get it?! GET IT?!” he laughs again.
“ooh I get it,” I say feinging interest. I can see my wife rolling her eyes in my periphery.
He’s prattling on about something else now, but I’ve got my eye on the door. Must make my escape. I zone out for a second plotting my exit and when my attention returns he’s saying “and that’s why I always prefer a Fisherman’s knot to a Turkshead. Know what I mean?” No, I do not know what he means at all and I want to get the fuck out of this grocery store. The line behind me is beginning to snake around the candy and tabloids and into the snack aisle. I hurriedly grab my groceries and deftly make a break for the door before J can get another word in.
This is pretty much how it goes every night. I really need to get on a normal sleep schedule.
