Teambuilding, Puppies, and Evil Dick -- Oh My!

I have no brain function left. Pity me, I spent the afternoon at a "fun" event. I have heard 12 people restate the same platitudes about what truth and respect mean. I have been forced to press shoulder to shoulder -- nearly cheek to jowl in some instances -- in the name of fostering a team spirit. I had to balance on small pieces of wood while co-workers clutched at me to keep from falling "into space." I may have pulled something. I definitely decimated my stockpile of caring statements. Working for the Man is degrading in so many ways.

But then, a bright spot! Neighbor John (who supports me in many important ways) is adopting a puppy and I got to have him all to myself tonight. His name is Zeus and he is a seven month old white bulldog/boxer/something mix with one blue eye and one brown eye. He is also deaf. Which is a challenge -- especially for me, the inventor of Pickle Talk.

[Note: I invented Pickle Talk, but I did not name it -- that honor belongs to Aimless in Oregon.]

Pickle Talk involves speaking to a dog and establishing a dialogue. Sometimes that dialogue sounds down right silly, but after countless repetitions, both you and the dog (or cat!) come to look forward to the exchange, no matter how inane. Frequently, there is even a song. Boom would be embarrassed as heck to know I'm sharing, but here is one of his: "I love Big Boom and I cannot lie, you other boys can't deny, when a Boom walks by, with a pickle and a sigh, everybody says my, my." I'm fairly certain you can guess the tune.

In any case, I instinctively and automatically started calling Zeus, my Zeus-y Papoose-y. (No, it doesn't make sense to you, but that's Pickle Talk.) And he can't hear me. So I held his sweet little face so he was looking at me and hoped that he would learn to read lips. Boom did fairly well, but was clearly relieved when Zeus was claimed by his dad. That may have had something to do with the smackdown Zeus laid on him in the backyard. Alas, my camera died and I can't find any more batteries -- but pictures of Zeus-y Papoose-y soon!

Which leads me to dick. Don't all roads? (Sorry, couldn't resist -- see above-referenced loss of brain function.) Evil Dick, that is, the winner of Big Brother 8. Yes, I watch Big Brother. I watch a lot of "lacking in redemptive value" television. That just makes me the fun person to talk to every morning by the coffee pot. Often, I'm annoyed by the winners of reality shows, but this time they got it right. Evil Dick is a foul-mouthed, slightly misogynistic, tattooed bad boy who reestablished a relationship with his daughter, outfoxed the competition, and won $500,000 without changing his personality one iota. Devil horns are raised high in your honor, E.D.!

Don't tell your single friends (until tomorrow, I need sleep)

XO, JamieSmitten