Sebbylite

I probably haven’t told you this, since I haven’t had the opportunity of late, but my Retard Dog really loves snow. Why haven’t I had the opportunity? Well, because I live in Seattle, and it doesn’t snow in Seattle.

Wait, then where did this picture come from? Truth to tell, this was taken not ten minutes ago in my front yard. Yes, in Seattle. Yes, it is snowing that much. Yes, the city will be shut down tomorrow. Yes, I am looking forward to it.

I do wonder though, if I have more fun playing in the snow with my dog, of if he has more fun playing in the snow with me? Because I spent the last 45 minutes throwing snowballs for him, and he kept chasing them down. Then we played the Hi-Low game, which he isn’t very good at but I am an old pro*. Then I threw some more snowballs for him, which he either chased, caught, or ate. And the thing is, I’d be more than willing to stay outside and play with him more if 1) my feet weren’t cold. 2) I didn’t have to get up at 5 in the morning to give the appearance that I tried to get to work. And 3) my feet are cold.

Oh, and if anyone cared other than me, I’m back up in the Google rankings for Retard Dog, and if anyone else wanted to link to that story with the words “Retard Dog”, please feel free (as long as it is done tastefully and you let me know in the comments what sites the links are on). I’m also considering a Google Bomb campaign in the near future, but I’m not sure who I want to target, and what I want the “Bomb” to be (Since Anus Chaps is already taken, I’m thinking about targeting Tall Guy with something interesting. Like maybe misunderestimicated).

*The Hi-Low game is when you toss something to a friend in a lob-like manner. Then, when they are looking up at the ball/whatever that you tossed and have their hands raised to catch it, you throw something hard and low in their general crotchal region. It’s a wonderful game, and I highly recommend that you try it at your next work gathering, high school reunion, spa day, or whatnot.

Why I don’t spend time in the ocean…

What can I say, the oceans of this world hate me, and this is just one of many reasons why I don’t spend my free time in the water.

Well, I noticed that I have dropped completely off the google radar (the “goodar”? “ragle”? “googar”? “radle”?) for the search term Retard Dog, and so I thought I’d try and rectify that…and yes, I said rectify.

Anyway, the best way that I could figure out how to get back into the rankings was to tell another Retard Dog story. So here goes:

About three weeks ago, I was hitting the tennis ball for the Retard Dog in my yard, as I have done every day for the past year when I take him outside. On this particular day, my dog was chasing after the ball in a patch of ivy. When he got the ball and turned to bring it back, it looked like a string of ivy caught his foot as he pulled away. He pulled at his foot, yelped, pulled free, and then brought the ball back and looked at me, waiting to chase the ball again. Since he seemed alright, and wasn’t limping, and was pretty psyched to keep chasing the ball, I didn’t think much of it. He is a bit of a drama queen, so I chalked it up to another “episode” in which he was really just being too lazy to walk all the way home or some such thing, and kept playing.

After another ten minutes of playing, it was time to take him for a walk (what? why would I need to take him for a walk after he had been outside playing ball in the yard for 20 minutes? well, strange thing about the retard dog is that he won’t actually crap unless he is on the leash. he’ll stay outside for hours hanging out, and then as soon as I put him on the leash to walk him, he’ll crap within a block. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not). As I got his leash out, and the treats, and the plastic bags, etc, etc, he started licking at his foot in front of my door. I still didn’t think much of it, since he does that quite a bit as well (what can I say, he’s a licker). It wasn’t until I actually started walking, saw that he wasn’t moving, and then saw the drops of blood streaming off his foot that I realized something may be wrong.

Did I mention that it was Sunday evening? And no vet’s are open on Sunday? Well, as it happens, this was the case. I ended up taping an old sock over his paw to try and control the bleeding while I went inside and looked up emergency vet’s online to see what I should do. I didn’t have much luck finding any, and the only one I did find put me on hold for about 10 minutes before I finally hung up. When I looked over the dog again, the bleeding seemed to have stopped, and he seemed to be ok. So I figured that I would just have him take it easy for the rest of the day and night, and then hopefully he’d be fine the following day.

Two hours later, I checked the sock to see what things were like. And as luck would have it, or as unluck would have it, he was still bleeding. At this point in time, I didn’t really have a choice. He had been bleeding for two hours, and he probably needed to go to the vet. So I sucked it up, grabbed as many credit cards as I could find, and drove him to the nearest emergency vet.

I must have knocked loose a small clot when I pulled off the sock, because at this point in time he was bleeding pretty strongly from his paw. And very reluctant to walk around. Which left it up to me to carry the 90 pound dog out to the car, and then from the car into the vet’s office. Although I’m pretty sure that he was in shock, since he didn’t seem to mind when I picked him up, which usually he struggles quite a bit.

When I got to the vet and brought him back to the exam room, the vet and her assistant’s tried to take a look at his paw for about five minutes with no luck. Evidently, the retard dog doesn’t like to have anyone touch his paws (especially when one of them is cut open), and since the dog is pretty large (and pretty rottweiler-ish), he was definitely winning the “veterinary assitant’s need to hold him down to examine his paw” game. So they drugged him, then stitched him up, and brought him back out.

Let me just say right now, there isn’t a whole lot in this world like a drugged up rottweiler with a plastic IV bag over his foot to keep it out of the rain. He tended to stumble around and run into things a bit. Which would have been extremely hilarious if I didn’t feel so damned bad for him. Oh well, I guess it’s one of those things that I’ll look back on some day and laugh…

And back to the present day. He just got his stitches out on Thursday (another game of “this one vet assistant has no chance of holding me down while the doctor tries to take out my stitches” in which he won), and after spending ten solid minutes licking his paw, he seems to be ok.

Which is nice, because I don’t think that I could take much more of the Retard Dog pansying around the house with his little bootie on, giving me those sad puppy dog eyes. For a big, mean looking rottweiler, he sure is a big wuss (which reminds me to tell you the story of the 4 chihuahuas in the neighborhood weighing a total of 18 pounds that absolutely terrorrize him. Another day…).

I ran across this article from Cincinatti, and I had to laugh a little bit. Basically, the person who wrote the article is claiming that George W. isn’t the Devil, as Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez claimed when he addressed the UN a while ago. As “evidence” that this is true, Mr. Barker posits these “facts”:

“First, it seems that Beelzebub would want to be a little more charismatic, more likable. When you are looking for world domination, wouldn’t you try to be a little less confrontational? You know, fighting to prevent the raping, murdering, gassing oppressive regimes like that of Saddam Hussein wouldn’t exactly be on the top of his list. They would get along quite nicely, as a matter of fact.”

How does the saying go,the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist? Well, how do you convice people that you aren’t the Devil? How about one highly publicized act of goodwill? After that, you can do no wrong. Also, I would think that if I were the Devil, I wouldn’t want competition either.

“Second, the devil isn’t really the benevolent type. According to the American Association of Fund Raising Council (AAFRC), Americans gave total contributions of $260.28 billion in 2005, a growth of 6.1 percent. Major natural disasters here in our homeland and abroad generated at least $7.37 billion (again, with a “b”) in contributions. This is all under our current Satanic Regime.”

I’m not so sure about where Mr. Barker is getting his “evidence”, but I will say that this has little to nothing to do with El Presidente W. I’d be willing to bet that this amount would be the same or higher if any other person was President of the United States. What kind of corelation is there between who is President and how much people decide to give?
None, if you ask me.

“[T]o meet a severe and urgent crisis abroad, tonight I propose the Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief – a work of mercy beyond all current international efforts to help the people of Africa … I ask the Congress to commit $15 billion over the next five years, including nearly $10 billion in new money, to turn the tide against AIDS in the most afflicted nations of Africa and the Caribbean.”

Well, if you read between the lines of this “smoke-and-mirrors ploy” by the Bush Administration, you figure out that a lot of what he is doing is simply re-organizing funds in AIDS related programs to make it seem like something new is going on. Read this article for more info about that.

Wait, that’s all? The President has been in office for 6 years, and all you can come up with is “Well, we finally got that Saddam guy, didn’t we”? Come on. I’ve done better things for the American public in my daily post-lunch colon-cleanser than what Mr. Barker has posited that W. has done.

Y’all,

You may not know this, but way back when I was knee high to an elephant (what can I say, it was last year. It’s not like I grew a whole lot in my 28th year of life), before I was Sebbylite, I had another blog. *Gasp!*

Yes, there was another. But technically I wasn’t cheating on my own blog, because Sebbylite was born from Party Season. It was more like making out with my cousin, and then going home to sleep with my girlfriend. Technically, it’s another woman. But theoretically nothing could possibly come of it since we are related. Make sense?

Anywho, I finally got around to importing all the past posts from Party Season to Sebbylite. If you are bored and want to read some things, take a look at the archives. Basically, anything from November of 2005 or earlier is from Party Season. There is some interesting stuff in there if you want to read it.

Ahh, those were the days. Back when my job involved 40 hours at work, 15 of which were spent working, and the rest was spent drinking coffee and surfing the internet. How I miss it. Of course, I’d probably still be there if it paid any more than $12 an hour…

Ok, so I’ve found my next project. For those of you too lazy to follow the link (honestly, how much effort does it take to push that button on your mouse?), it shows how to turn an old cooler into a set of speakers for an iPod (or other media device). And you can still use the cooler to keep things cool, too. How neat is that?

Yes, I did just say “neat”. I don’t know, I may be coming down with some kind of cold. I apologize, I’ll try to never let it happen again…

I ran across a snippet of a conversation that I had with my brother once, and I thought I’d share because I haven’t done anything else for this blog in an ass-long* time. Anyway, here it is (oh, and there was another guy with us too, Mike, who took part):

Me: “How come the Devil always wants to dance?”
Matthew: “I don’t know, do you think he’s a two-stepper?”
Mike: “He’s a cowboy, they have to dance.”
Matthew: “Why is the Devil a cowboy?”
Me: “Why do cowboy’s have to dance? Is it because they are gay?”
Matthew: “I didn’t know that the Devil was gay. Interesting.”
Mike: “No, the Devil is a cowboy, and cowboy’s have to dance because it’s in their Code.”
Me: “Like the Cowboy Way?”
Matthew: “Yeah, and they also let baby cows suckle them when they are lonely.”

I really wish that I had a tape recorder along for some of the conversations that I have with him, because they are more “stream of conciousness” talks than actual “oh, I have something that makes sense to add to this conversation” sort of talks. And I can never remember them 15 minutes later, so they are lost to the annals of time.

Hee hee, I said annals.

*Ass-long: an indeterminate amount of time that is converted by the situation at hand. For example, 30 seconds can be an ass-long time when you are trying to get out of the apartment of the person that you drunkenly hooked up with the night before. Or an hour can be an ass-long time when you have to spend it with in-laws. Or 4 years is an ass-long time until you graduate from college. Etc. You get the point.