I had a grade school teacher that would say ‘good posture is the key to good behavior.’

I always thought it was an evil trick to get us to stop slumping in our chairs and pay attention…. Because although this quiet contemplating pup, while having impeccable posture, is not the most well behaved piece of fur in the pack. 

She’s statuesque, yes. 

Just give her a minute and she’ll be up on the window trying to get that asshole squirrel, pulling down curtains and drooling all over the furniture. 

Isn’t she lovely?

For what it’s worth…


Tomorrow marks 4 years of blogging…

4 years of putting my shit out there.

I’ve learned not to babble and to not write annoyingly long ass posts.  I’ve learned to keep it simple.  I’ve learned that people enjoy pictures.  People enjoy simple wit and irony and dogs. 

Good Lord, you people love dogs!  That’s ok, I do too. 

Take a gander through the archives if you desire…sometimes I still giggle at the things I’ve admitted in writing.  I still get little pretzel knots in my stomach thinking about how much of my brain I actually share. 

Also…I should totally have front row seats to Pearl Jam and a six figure book deal by now.  Where are the connections that I’ve dreamed up in my head??

Where, oh, all knowing internet, where????

My so called dog


Doesn’t she remind you of Claire Danes from My So-Called Life? 

Grunge dog.  The more I thought about it yesterday, the more it made me giggle.  I mean, she dresses in all black, wears a choker necklace, is technically in her teen years, has dirty hair and always looks bitterly depressed.  

I’m sure she writes poetry at 3 am. 

Even her breed matches.  Great Dane? Claire Danes?  It was meant to be! 

It’s just too bad that she can’t marry Jordan Catalano and have little grunge puppies in cardigan sweaters.  She’s stuck with me.  She’s my wife-pup, Jordan!!! Go shake that hair and blink those blue eyes at someone else.  Dick. 



Just look at this brown eyed beauty.  Her pupils are actually not zombie white.  Her breath smells like crunchy cheetos.  Not the puffs…those smell completely different.  Only cheeto aficionados know the difference.  Is it sad that I know??

Or is it just my superior sense of smell?  Women have a better sense of smell than men, I’ve heard. 

My husband admitted to cheating on a smell test in high school.  He said he could see through the blindfold.  I think they were testing the man vs. woman smell superiority and he was slightly annoyed that women were superior.  Cheater. 

He also finally admitted to me and to himself that he doesn’t really like broccoli.  He’s choked it down for years.  Steamed, deep fried, in soups, stews, with cheese, without cheese…enough is enough, I suppose. 

I love it.  And cheetos.  And smelling.