Earlier this week, I took Talulah out back to play Chuck-It!, which is Talulah’s favorite fetch game of all time.
It was scheduled to be a hot-ass day, and I was determined during the hottest days that I would take T out twice a day in two shorter spurts. The heat saps Talulah’s energy faster, but yet she has more energy later in the day if I don’t.
This was our second outing.
I grabbed Talulah’s leash, the ball, the Chuck-it and poop bags. “I’m taking Talulah out again,” I yelled to Tina as I left. Our play area is just past the alley behind our place. It’s a perfect strip of grass for throwing the ball.
As we go out, I make Talulah sit while we cross the alley to make sure no cars are coming.
Off in the distance, I noticed a blonde woman walking her dog on the leash. She was close enough that by the time I got to the top of the hill, if I threw the ball, it might be awkward, since some people aren’t thrilled to see a pit bull off leash.
So I made Talulah lie down, and wait for her to pass.
The closer she got, the cuter this stranger became. She was wearing a sun dress with reds and blues. It was beautiful flowery print. She was wearing black leggings that were visible just under the bottom hem of the dress. On her right arm was a bird tattoo. Her nose was pierced, and her eyes were piercing blue.
“May we say hello?” she called out. It took me by surprise. Usually the most people say is hello.
“Of course.” I said. “Although she gets a little OCD about her ball. So she might not …” At that point, Talulah got up and gave this other dog a good sniff or two.
Referring to her dog, the stranger said, “She gets a little aggressive on her leash. I noticed that your dog was calm, and it would be a good training opportunity.”
Within our staggered, cumbersome conversation, I noticed the size of her chest. Her boobs were bigger, but pulled together by some kind of tube top perhaps. They bounced with every step.
We had one of those moments when her leash tangled around my legs. I noticed the freckles on her face.
Beautiful women make me nervous, and this was no exception.
(You should see me bumble around Tina).
At some point I admitted that Talulah was also aggressive on her leash. “I think it’s a leash thing. Off leash, she’s so much better.”
The blonde nodded. I noticed her size me up a little, too (maybe?).
“Did she notice my wedding ring? I hope my hair isn’t too big right now,” I thought.
Meanwhile, I noticed more art on her neck and shoulder. I could have fanned myself.
Our interaction lasted all of 30 seconds. And off she walked down the trail. I watched her go. I couldn’t help it. Evolution gifted me with a libido-laden voyeurism that is difficult to ignore.
When she was 20 feet away, I threw Talulah’s ball the other direction. I turned back to watch a little longer.
“Whoa,” I said out loud. “So flipping cute.”
Talulah came back with the ball. It squishes and squeaks in her teeth as she munches on it before laying it back down in front of me.
I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say, like, “Gosh, you have a really cool look,” and “Don’t take this as a come on, but you are so hot” just before doing a Chuck Jones cartoon character eye-ball, ooga ooga routine.
Looking down at the ball that Talulah dropped, I caught a glimpse of myself. I was wearing a ratty, old yellow shirt with the graphics all coming off. I had on brown pants that were stained from cooking. I was wearing those soccer flip flops with mismatched blue and black socks.
And to top it off, we inherited a leash from Talulah’s daycare that is fucking purple with a bright pink poop bag holder attached to the end. I was wearing this sweet, purple leash around my chest, like a Mexican drug lord wears his ammo holster.
It was at that very moment when I thought, “No, she wasn’t looking at my wedding ring.”
I transcribed the flyer and put it under the fold.
And for the record, I’m not grumpy all the time.
Nor do I like to see people tell children that there’s a hell (or heaven) without an shred of verifiable proof.
I saw this little masterpiece on Facebook. Continue reading “Atheists are grumpy, sad, miserable knowitalls, but don’t find out for yourself. Leave it to the experts”
Yesterday, I mentioned the AFA’s disgusting response to the Colorado Theater shooting.
But wait! There’s more!
From expert on the subject of gun violence Mike Adams (Mike Adams?), also known as “The Health Ranger,” we read the following in the article titled, “Colorado Batman shooting shows obvious signs of being staged:”
I wouldn’t be surprised to discover someone in Washington was behind it all. After all, there’s no quicker way to disarm a nation and take total control over the population than to stage violence, blame it on firearms, then call for leaders to “do something!” Such calls inevitably end up resulting in gun confiscation, and it’s never too long after that before government genocide really kicks in like we saw with Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Mao and other tyrants.
And from the World Nutty Net Daily, Matt Barber calls his God a big fat liar with his pants on fire in his editorial titled “Our culture of death and the Batman shooting“:
Beneath the euphemistic banner of “reproductive choice,” hundreds of women elect to have their own babies slaughtered in the womb daily. Children – those who dodged the abortion bullet anyway – aren’t stupid; they’re just young. From this, they can only deduce that, according to our culture, human life is cheap and meaningless.
So why are we surprised when people like the “Batman killer” act accordingly?
Indeed, in our perverse society, a woman exercising her “right to choose” death for her innocent child represents “courage,” while the Batman shooter’s “choice” to kill innocent moviegoers represents cowardice. And it is. They are both acts of cowardice. The only relevant difference is the victims’ age.
Let me be clear: Am I comparing this incredibly wicked, illegal mass murder at Aurora’s Century Theatre to the incredibly wicked, legal mass murder committed at Planned Parenthoods across the country each day? Absolutely – and you can quote me on it.
But again, like the Batman murders, our nation’s 55-plus million abortion murders post Roe v. Wade are not the cause of our culture of death; they are merely a symptom. Ultimately, the cause stems from something much less complicated.
We as a nation – as a people – have turned our backs on God. We have rebelled against Him and have forgotten that it was He and He alone who gave us 200-plus years of prosperity, unprecedented in world history.
We have left Him, so why are we surprised He’s leaving us? We have said, “We don’t need you, leave us alone.”
And so He has.
Matt Barber obviously hasn’t read his bible, which for one, is one of the most violent books, equipped with some of the ideas for the most violent, apathy for life ever written.
And for two, (out of context of course), it reads, “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. (Deut 31:6)”
Hey Matt, when the bible starts respecting life, you have a soapbox to stand on. But as it is, the culture of “death” comes from the team who keeps an execution device at the forefront of almost all its churches.
And when God himself claims he won’t “leave you or forsake you,” you’re whole “god left us” argument goes down that dirty toilet you live in.
The culture of death is maintained by the group deadset that they, and they alone, have the key to the cosmic war’s winning hand.
And while their god is amazingly quiet on the topic, the people with loud mouths are sure to be heard.
How about laying off the cosmic battles for a weekend and the government conspiracy theories.
People need to mourn.
And then dumbass me calls attention to them.
Rick Warren joins the fray of idiot responses to this tragedy. More here.