someone has been playing with...

Did you think I DIED?

Well, I really almost did. But I'll save that for my next blog post.

Just popping in to remind everyone at this special time of year that if your relatives are bat-shit crazy, you're not alone.

Background: Last year my immediate family all pitched in to give my wonderful Grandma an i-Pad! We set her up with a Gmail account, and even her own Facebook page!

She still doesn't really get the whole "internets" so everytime we visit we make a point of breaking out the iPad and going through the basics.

Rewind to Thanksgiving... my sister and I decide to show grandma Margie YouTube. You can imagine our surprise when YouTube greeted us with a recent browsing history filled with tits, vajayjays, big weeners and the like. Evidently, someone had been using Margie's iPad to Choke the Chicken.

There's no shortage of suspected [monkey] spankers in the family, as the men in the family take turns staying at the house once a week to give the in-home nurse a day off. But, thanks to a couple of surgical procedures viewed within a few minutes of some rendition of Debbie Does Dallas, we're pretty sure the culprit is our cousin, soon-to-be medical doctor, who was unable to make it...

Honestly, I think porn is kindove gross, but I realize a lot of men are into it. Whatever. But using your grandmother's iPad in your grandparents' house to do your business is just fucking wrong.

So I sent my cousin a message that said:
Someone has been looking at a lot of youtube porn on marge's ipad. Quite the shocker when we went in for the Thanksgiving youtube demo. Anyway, whatever.. but AT LEAST have the decency to clear your browsing history! Happy thanksgiving.
His response:
Hey Cuz. LOL that you thought it was me. Probably one of your uncles. 
Unconvinced, I responded:
I really don't care who it was... Just super awkward for us. Marge basically thinks that's what the internets for now.
And then I get back:
Lol. That IS what the internet is for cuz!

Please stop calling me "cuz" ...
Can we just pretend we're not related? LOL.
[who says that?]

Gee, I can't wait for Christmas!


Mister Bondi + Lidda Homie (gratuitous puppy post)

About a year ago, I used my super duper powers of persuasion to convince my Mister that we needed to adopt another puppy.

And so we did, and he was named HOMIE.

My other Mister Bondi was not very happy about this.
Really not at all impressed.

Mister Bondi had to teach Lidda Homie how to do many things...
...like ride in the car.

... and "just this one time"  turned into, like, every time...

Eventually, Lidda Homie started to kindove sortove grow on Mister Bondi...
but Lidda Homie was still not wise to the ways of the world.
There was still much he needed to learn....

... before they could be friends....
... even cuddle buddies...

And now, many months later... they pretty much like each other.

Lidda Homie is not so "lidda" anymore.
And Mister Bondi is pretty much cool with that.

But every once in awhile...
he just wants the damn front seat to himself.


our new ninja roomie...

We have a BIG problem... 

For the last couple of weeks, we have heard an unbelievable racket coming from the ceiling above our bed. It sounds like an animal eating the house.

The scratching, scraping, clawing and gnawing is impossible to ignore, so Bondi and I lie in bed from about 2am-5am wondering when the ceiling is going to come crashing down on us. It's really restful.

After one too many sleepless nights, I decided someone needed to go up to the roof to investigate. Up the rickety wooden ladder to the moldy, sagging, decrepit roof....

So on Friday, Joe went.

He found a 3' x 3' hole that had been chewed through the tar paper, through the wood frame and into the drywall and insulation. (This helps explain the new leak that has developed in our bedroom ceiling.) He covered the gash with a sheet of plywood as a temporary solution...  a sort of "find somewhere else to burrow" message.

Well, around 4am Sunday morning, we suspected our new furry roommate was not so easily deterred.

This was confirmed Sunday afternoon when we found a note from our neighbor:


Giant raccoon is digging a hole in your roof. He just climbed up there now. (12 noon). He uses the bush by the kitchen, NW corner of house, to climb up. He is like a ninja.

The insulation and tar paper from the hole keeps blowing onto our lawn which we are trying to seed.

I refrained from responding:

"Dear Jon,

Thank you for the note about our ninja raccoon friend. We have consented to allow this nest building, as the relentless horror movie soundtrack and imminent threat of the roof collapsing on us while we sleep is little price to pay for disrupting your lawn beautification. 


Just kidding, kind of. Jon's a nice guy... This is just misguided hostility that I will instead be directing to our landlord or any well-rested person who crosses my path...

Oh and by the way, here is what our "ninja" raccoon did just last night. Note huge sheet of plywood covering previous huge hole, new small hole, and new displaced insulation.

It was another peaceful sleep.

Just as an aside, pretty sure the ninja culprit is a pregnant she, not a he... one fierce mama desperate to make a nest for her little ones!

Regardless, today I purchased this:

It's made from coyote urine and it's supposed to tell the raccoon(s) to go somewhere else. I'm thinking she's probably gonna "bahaha" in the face of this synthetic predator pee, but we'll see.

Oh, and I just sent "something" along these lines to our landlord.

Dear Landlord,

Per our lease agreement, I am writing to notify you of additional occupancy in our home. There is a giant "ninja" raccoon that has taken residency in the roof, having displaced about 9 square feet of the insulation to make a den for her kits, which are likely due any day now. I was going to "evict" her myself, but am wary to spend too much time on the roof, due to the whole "rotten wood" and "valuing my life" thing. Plus, I find I have little energy to do anything more than lie in bed anticipating a raccoon party in the bedroom, should the ceiling collapse on me while sleeping.

Sleepless in Seattle,

Still waiting to hear back...

The house next door to the pedophile is starting to look pretty nice right about now! Just saying...

EDITED TO ADD: Here is the picture our neighbor just emailed me of our new furry friend in action, along with the note: "Here is one of the photos. I got his face in this one so maybe he can be identified down at the station."


chicago, now and then

Last weekend I was in Chicago for a tradeshow. Second time time in five years. (The last time was quite an experience... more on that below).

Even though I was there for "work" we managed to pack quite a lot of fun into a few days.

We arrived Thursday and after setting up the booth and getting settled in the hotel, we found our way to a jazz club called Buddy Guys. The Chicago R&B Kings were playing and they sounded incredible. They were your "typical" R&B group... except the blues guitar player. He was hands down the best guitarist I have ever seen play.

Somehow I don't think we'll be seeing him in the limelight anytime soon, though, given that he weighs probably over 300 lbs, is a ginger and sports pig-tail puffs.

I think he just doesn't have what the judges on American Idol call that "star quality"... Too bad for those who will never witness what his magical fingers can do. I'm sure he makes his girlfriend very happy.

After a long day at the tradeshow, Friday night we ordered the "Chicago's Best Pizza" from Giordanos. I kid you not, the thing weighed about 10 lbs. Apparently Chicago deep-dish is something you have to do. I was not a fan. I guess having a weeks servings of carbs in one meal is not my thing?

Saturday night rocked. After the tradeshow, exhibitors and buyers were treated to an open bar and private concert by Keith Urban. I'm not a huge country fan but holy hotness he is beautiful. And Australian.

I may have to trade my Uggs in for some cowboy boots. Afterall, I do like dogs and beer. I'd probably do just fine as a country convert!
After the show we decided to take a 'shortcut' back to the hotel, but somehow managed to get lost in the underground of Chicago. Every 'exit' sign led to another staircase or tunnel and after wandering for half an hour among fiber, tunnels and electrical conduit, we came across this Mason sign.

My dad was sure it was some kindove conspiracy. (We'd had a few drinks...) Well, I pressed a service elevator button to see where it would go and when the door opened there was a union dude just standing there. Silent. Then we got escorted out. It was odd.

After the last day of the show we headed downtown to explore the city - all I can say is I was impressed. I was expecting dangerous and dirty (see below) but it wasn't at all.

Clean, vibrant, beautiful architecture, impressive history... good times!

Monday after packing the booth up we headed uptown to Wrigley Field to catch a Cubs game! We sat in the bleachers where all the cool kids were and enjoyed a few drinks.

There were seagulls on the field, which made me think of that time Randy Johnson killed a bird with a 95mph fastball.

We had more time in the city Monday than we expected, since our flight was seriously delayed. Apparently Southwest needed to make sure the plane wasn't going to spontaneously tear open before departing. Fine by me.

All in all I'd say it was a pretty great (long) weekend.

Much better than the last time I was in Chicago 5 years ago...

Funny near death experience story actually.

After graduating from college I set out from Durham with all of my posessions and Mr. Bondi crammed into my Ford Explorer, heading home to Seattle.

That first day I drove until 2:00AM when, almost out of gas, I had to pull off the freeway for the night... in south Chicago.

Being a frugal college student, I was looking for a cheap motel. I pulled into the first one I found. There were some questionables in the parking lot, so I hurried inside to book my room.

The first thing I noticed was the window covered with bars. Not a good sign. I thrust my credit card at the clerk through the little hole in the barred windows, who then proceeded to ASK ME IF I WANTED THE ROOM HOURLY OR FOR THE WHOLE NIGHT.

Granted, I had been driving for 10 hours... but it is seriously disturbing to think I looked that awful.

No, I will not be sucking cock for crack, thank you very much.

Meanwhile another 'customer' is waiting in line behind me. And by customer I mean pimp, complete with the mouth full of gold, dreds and snakeskin boots. And by behind me I mean about an inch away from licking the nape of my nake... Breathing hot nasty breath on me.

I was actually scared for my life... and seriously regretting leaving Bondi in the car. I actually pondered what Bondi would do if I never came back for him!

I explained to the clerk that I was 'lost' and out of gas, and asked if there was any safer place to stay nearby.

"He said sorry hun, you're in south Chicago on a Saturday night. Everywhere is gonna be pretty cranky. Your best bet is to go to your room and lock the door."

That's comforting, I thought, as I wondered if he meant crank as in meth, or crank as in the sound my neck will make if I stand in front of pimpdaddy for another second and he decides to kill me.

And with that, I took my key and proceeded to my whore den, where I was surprised not to find a crack rock waiting for me on my pillow. I heard no less than three gunshots during the night, but I survived, no doubt thanks to Mr. Bondi, who dutifully growled and barked at the door for the duration of the night.

What a difference 5 years makes, Chicago!

And speaking of, I am currently on the way to Duke for my 5 year (oh.my.gawd. where has the time gone?) college reunion. No worries, though, I'm not driving back.


cutting it close.

Hello from Chicago! I'm here for a tradeshow this weekend. Just barely made it, in fact.

Funny story actually, though it wasn't really at the time...

Yesterday morning I had a 6:30am flight. Have I shared with y'all how much I am not a morning person? Like, please don't talk to me until I've had my coffee... for your own sake... so we can still be friends.

The 6:30am was the only option to get me to Chicago in time for booth set-up. I backwards count to when I have to wake up...

Must arrive "1 hour" prior to flight to check a bag.. (you can actually push this to 30 minutes, just saying)... must allow 40 minutes for driving to airport (20 minutes presuming no traffic, which I do)... need 15 minutes to wake up, brush teeth, etc. (can push this to 3 minutes if necessary)... you get the idea.

Well, long story short I wake up at a time that starts with a FREAKING 4 and still manage to cut it close to make my flight. Apparently other people - a lot of them, actually - fly at this ungodly hour.

6:00am: I pick the shortest looking security line, but quickly realize I have chosen wrong. My line is like amateur hour at the airport. One lady in front of me literally spends minutes removing her lace-up boots. Who wears lace-up boots to the airport? Actually, who wears lace-up boots, period?

6:07am: There's an influx of flight attendants. Like, 7 of them. Did you know they just get to bypass the whole... waiting in line thing? I am literally next in line to send my carryon through the x-ray when they come, one after another, to place their snazzy little carryons on the conveyor belt... right in front of me.

6:14am: Finally, the last of the flight attendants is through. I'm up! Then TSA lady taps me on the shoulder and tells me I've been selected for the body scan. Yippee! She tells me I will need to wait until my bag has entered the x-ray, though, before I can be "viewed". That's when I see a new influx of flight attendants hurrying to put their carryons in front of mine!

6:15am: The man behind me tells the flight attendants "We've been waiting for quite awhile, if you wouldn't mind just letting us go through really quickly" after which I blurt out "Yeah, I'm going to miss my flight... please, I'll be quick."

Well guess what some snatchface flight attendant says? "Oh honey, you're not going anywhere without us! Planes need flight attendants to fly."

Oh do they now? I thought they needed flight attendants to serve peanuts and soda, thank you for clarifying. I don't say that though. I actually say, "Oh, are you on the 6:30am to Chicago? Didn't think so..." and promptly shove my bag through the x-ray.

Is there just something about airport security that brings out the best in us all? Or maybe it's just me... in the early morning.

6:16am: I am treated to my first full-body scan. The TSA man tells me it's okay to smile. I don't. When I'm finished, he doesn't even say congratulations or nice boobs or anything. Ridiculous.

6:18am: Run to flight. Make it. Barely.

Well, that's pretty much the whole story. It was funnier in my head... sorry about that!


NEED advice for this girl I know...

So there's this girl I know who has been with her boyfriend for almost three years. They've lived together for a couple years, have furbabies together, and talk about a future together. They have a good relationship. There are ups and downs, of course, but at the end of the day, they share common interests and have a strong physical and emotional connection. They love each other.

And then, the other night her boyfriend went to a bachelor party and had too much to drink and apparently let a girl sit on his lap and kissed her (or "she kissed him") not once, not twice, but three times. When he came home that night, she naturally asked him how the evening was. He said it was a blast, describing where they had gone but not really what they had done. He awkwardly mentioned some girls and some flirting. Minutes went by and then she asked him, on a gut instinct, if he kissed any of these girls. He said yes.

That night while still drunk, her boyfriend said the girls were kissing "all the guys" and it "wasn't a big deal" ... but it was a very big deal for her. She felt betrayed by her boyfriend, who she had never imagined was even capable of such transgressions. (I have even heard her say, many times, "He would never cheat on me" and she believed it wholeheartedly.)

And to make matters worse she also felt horribly embarassed, because "all the guys" at this bachelor party were her friends too, and they had witnessed her boyfriend drunk and kissing on/being kissed by some girl that wasn't her.

And then it came out that it wasn't really "all the guys"... it was pretty much just him, and maybe one or two other (single) guys.

When morning came, her boyfriend felt absolutely awful and apologized profusely for his horrible lapse in judgement. He said he was a "real dick" and felt terrible for hurting her. He realized being drunk was no excuse, and couldn't really say why he had let that happen, but only that he wished it hadn't. He promised it would never happen again and was willing to do "whatever it takes" to make it right.

But now, the girlfriend doesn't know if it ever can be right.

One the one hand, she has made similar mistakes in the past - maybe not quite so egregious, but mistakes nevertheless that her boyfriend forgave. He has never done anything like this before... and it was just a kiss. Or three.

On the other hand, she feels hurt, devastated, betrayed, and sick to her stomach every time she thinks about it. How will she ever be able to trust him again?

If you were this girl, what would you do? (If you need any more details to render an opinion, I'm sure I can ask her...)



I finished my CrossFit workout the other night, all excited to meet a girlfriend for a beer, and discovered this:

Deja vu much? Promptly called the boyfriend, who wasn't too eager to be my knight in shining armor, so I called AAA.

Who needs a boyfriend when you have AAA anyway, right?

Truthfully, my dad would be so ashamed that I did not change my own tire, but I could not for the life of me find the tire iron. It was probably somewhere under the overflowing pile of shit occupying my trunk.

On pull-up 79 out of 80 in the above referenced CrossFit WOD, my hand ripped. Just like in the good ol' days of gymnastics.

Now washing my hair stings like a bitch.

Also, my vision. I realized the other night while trying to read the bar menu on a blackboard about 10 feet from me that I'm going blind. I need glasses... badly. This makes me feel really old.

I realize everyone is all on the *I LOVE SPRING* bandwagon. Blah blah blah. I freaking hate Spring.

Can we please just skip to Summer so I can breathe? Or walk outside without lactating from the eyeballs? MMkay? Thanks.

Not to be a Negative Nancy or anything but that's my life right meow.

However, seeing as tomorrow is Friday... (things are looking up?) I'll leave you with this:

Or if sparkle unicorns aren't your thing, there's always these guys:

They're pretty rad too.