Thursday, April 13, 2006


all hail the barkless basenji

i gotta tell you, people. i know there are some die hard dog lovers who read this site but i have to be honest and tell you that the prospects of my being inducted into your world are dwindling fast.

you see, my home is surrounded by many a barking dog. to the north, our neighbor leaves their black lab outside at about 6:00a every weekend and then seemingly returns to a deep, unshakable r.e.m. sleep. the beast stands at the front door and rhythmically woofs like a canine alarm clock. being shaken from my already crappy slumber [i just wanna sleep on my back, for chrissakes], i morph into my mother: hair askew and shuddering from lack of motor skills, i throw on my robe and hunker down to my back window to hiss, "hey! hey! be quiet!" to the creature. just like we three kids did, it sheepishly obeys for a while, but it doesn't matter: i'm awake now. boo.

to the south, we have a menagerie: two cats, a ferrett, and an undetermined number of shih-tzus. we guess there are maybe five of them. when i am outside, enjoying my yard with a nice magazine, savoring the sweet perfume of my daffodils, these little monsters yap and yap and yap and yap and yap at me, pop-eyes ablaze. this has gone on every year, despite the fact that i have unabashedly taken a hose to the little bastards.

there are other dogs around: ones that howl when emergency vehicles pass by, ones that crap in front of my trash cans in the alley, and ones that incite others to help them do their evil bidding by barking up a frenzy. today, as i sit in my office, happily typing away listening to birds sing their mellifluous song with the windows open, the canine chorus begins. before you know it, the shit-zoo joins in on the refrain. my neighbors were outside, going about their day, not quieting their animals when i could take it no more.

i screamed: "quiet!" i astonished even myself, but i just don't care. it worked.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

little preggy paula k

i just haven't had that much to write. it kinda sucks. mainly, i've wanted to avoid just writing about pregnancy. detailed description of the rigors of knocked-up-ed-ness can be boring reading for the world at large and there are just so many blogs out there all about it that are far better at it than mine already.

isn't the second trimester supposed to be the easier one?! this morning, i was in the bathroom, exhausted and on the verge of tears from being kept awake by my newfound lack of peristalsis. i was fervently trying to get my mouth clean -- between the increase in plaque production and the constant bath of stomach acid, things get pretty mossy in there. after brushing, flossing, and washing with cool mint listerine, i was left with a raw, bloody gums and... a blue tongue. pathetic. what immediately popped in my head? a childhood favorite, shel silverstein's poem sick.

i bring you my adaptation of this work:

"i cannot go to school today,"
said little preggy paula k.
"i feel a stretching on my bump,
a kick, a stick, and even a jump.
my crotch is wet, my skin is dry,
i feel like i am going to cry.
montgomery's tubes as big as rocks,
i've counted sixteen belly knocks,
and there's one more--that's seventeen,
i’m sorry if i’m sounding mean.
my ass is fat -- i’ll try’n be nice --
i'm over veggies over rice.
i burp and fart and gasp and choke,
i'm sure my 'sophagus is broke --
my teeth feel like they're full of grout,
my belly button's popping out,
my back hurts sleeping on my side,
my pillow, ‘tween my legs, i ride.
my hands are swollen now, and numb.
man, i swear i'm getting dumb.
my thighs are thick, my arms are weak,
can't find the words i want to speak.
my tongue is growing lots of hair,
can't reach to trim the stuff down there!
my belly's popped, my spine ain't straight,
my weight is well past one-o-eight.
my hair is flat, i cannot crap,
i really want to take a nap.
i need a pedicure, and -- what?
what's that? what's that you say?
you say today is. . .saturday?
g'bye, i'm going out to play!"