The 2nd post I've ever written about dog sex

(NTRK Day whatever, since I took the weekend off)



Adrian ran back into our room, screaming and grabbing his face like Macaulay Culkin.

"Charlie is kind of pooping in my room!"

Charlie is a yorkie. Mat got him for us last year for Christmas. We've had him almost a year with no problems. He has only had a few accidents and the only complaint I have about him is that when I am not paying attention he licks my armpit or cleavage, whichever is closer.

I grabbed my slippers and ran into Adrian's room. Charlie was hunched over in a poopingish position but wasn't running from me like he normally would if he was taking a shat in the house. I went to pick him up but he looked funny. Almost like he was in a state of pure ecstasy, yet also extremely invaded.

"Look at his poop, Mom!"

That's when I saw it. It kind of flopped against the ground and pulsated. It was huge and purple and veiney. I screamed. Charlie glanced up at me, annoyed that I interrupted.

"Adrian, go get Dad"

I hear him wailing as he runs down the hall "Whaaaatttt's happenninnnnggggg"

When he ran into my bedroom to get Mat, he was extremely distraught.

"Daddy you gotta come quick. Oh my god, it's not poop. It's not poop. It's....it's coming....it's out of his....oh my god hurry up and get up, it's out of his....it's from his.....privates penis...oh my gah come on!"

Mat calmly walks in the room as I have leaned down and am at a loss for what is going on with my life. I have always had male dogs and have NEVER seen anything like this before. I wasn't even for certain it was what I was fearing it was. I thought it was a tumor that fell out of his stomach. It was so big. Charlie weighs a little over 11 pounds and I am pretty sure his doggy chub was 9 inches. Little Ron Jeremy is still in hunched over position, throbbing and moaning and wanting a cigarette.



Mary: Mat, what is it?

Mat:....

Mary: IS THAT HIS DICK?

Mat: Yeah. Yeah. That's his dick. Damn, Charlie, putting me to shame.

Mary: I think he's dying or something. I think his intestines are falling out. Something is falling out. That's not okay. Look at him.

Mat: Yeah but he looks...like...he's all right.

Mary: I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IT'S PULSING.



At this point, some of it got on my foot. Yes, that happened. I can't go into further detail because this is a family blog. But...let's just say I didn't get there in time to stop what was now happening.

As I was yelling and trying to keep myself from offing myself, Mat picked up Charlie and carried him with his one eyed purple people eater facing away from him, all the way to our bathroom. He shouted at Adrian to look away. When I cleaned off my foot (sick) and went to follow, I found Adrian in the corner of the kitchen, facing the wall, crying.



Adrian: What's..(sob) .happen....ing......(sob)

Mary: He's fine.  Can you tell me what Charlie was doing right before he pooped Tarzan's dong out of his urethra?

Adrian: He was...just...hugging my pillow pet. He was hugging it over and over again and then started growling at him and biting at him.

Mary: Okay. Are you ready for this?

Adrian: (sob) yes...(sniffle)

Mary: Sometimes, when penises think they're having sex they get real big.

Adrian: OH MY WORD. and slimy???

Mary: Meh, that one's really disgustingly slimy. He's okay, though. He just thought he was making sweet doggy sex to your pillow pet.

Adrian: Why didn't it go away when we told him to stop?!?!

Mary: Adrian, I'm cool with talking about this all night if you want to but do you really want to ask more questions.

Adrian: Ug. No. Goodnight.




I got him a glass of water and tucked him back in, talking about Disneyland to clear his little mind of k9 penis veins.

I walked back into our bathroom, expecting Mat to have done whatever it takes to have this wrapped up and taken care of. At this point it had been a good twelve minutes since orgasm dog started his thing, surely by now this was over.

No.

Mat is in the doorway, his phone to his face. Charlie is hunched over his gross self on a bathroom rug.



Mary: Uhhh, could we not get this session wrapped up?

Mat: If this goes on for 30 minutes it says we should take him to the vet.

Mary: Take him to the vet right now. Those blood vessels are about to burst all over my bathroom.

Mat: It says here not to manually release him or assist him in any way, because it could cause more damage than good.

Mary: Ummm...yeah....you don't...have to worry...about that.

Mat: It says to get a cold and wet cloth and put it on it.

Mary: I nominate you to put a cold and wet cloth on it. You seem like you'd be good at that.

All of a sudden, Charlie breathes out deeply and lays down on his side, panting. He's now done. How nice for him.

Mat: Ah, there it goes. It's going away.

Mary: I'm so grossed out by him right now. Just. Make him go away. He's like a trucker on the side of the highway.

Mat: I'm just glad we've already had sex today because this would have killed the mood.



If anyone would like to see a picture, we MAY have taken one. I may have been sending it to a few select friends at different levels of zoom all day. I am not sure about the beastiality laws and distribution of naked dogs, etc. Just text me if you want some of that.

Nonperks of being a sixth grade (wall)Flower.

(NTRK Day 5)

Sixth grade.

I had my braces off before everyone else so you would think I was a goddess compared to the sea of brace faces.


Pre-teen hormones hit me a lot differently than it did most girls. All I had to do was listen to Lisa Loeb's "Stay" and think about my mother, who was alive and healthy in the next room, and I would be a crying sack of ugly on the floor. I still to this day can't watch Forrest Gump without getting a lump in my throat because I associate it with missing my mother, who was never gone. Weird and needy. That's Mary!

If only I could have one of those boyfriend things that all the girls who wore yellow boots had. They seemed to make you not cry on the floor. They seemed to get you past your Disney movie love stage, that was still clinging so desperately to me and my stretch pants.

I decided to make a tall boy in Miss Beasley's math class mine. I put wet n wild red lipstick on my cheeks and instead of doing my math homework, I wrote him a love note. I remember the nervousness of handing him the note mixed with the sudden immediate regret of not doing my homework. What balls of steel I had! He hadn't ever even talked to or acknowledged me and I decide I'm going to remind him that the girl who sang "Oscar Meyer Wiener" in front of the whole school was one bad bitch with some heavy emotional love for him.

Math was my 2nd class followed by Science and Vocal Music. I made it through all those unscathed. This game plan was working. I wondered what would happen when I saw him in Math the next day.

Lunch was here and I was excited about stuffing my plain face with my usual lunch of french fries and a blue bell cookies and cream ice cream sandwich. I was probably looking around to make friends when I walked past his lunch table. He was smiling, a bit uncomfortably. I have always thought he was a nice guy and this wasn't his instigating. One of his friends yelled "THERE SHE IS!" and cleared his throat. That's when I noticed the paper in his hand.

"'My heart skips a beat every time you walk by. I love coming to math because I get to sit close to you. I love your K swiss. Let's be boyfriend.' HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT HER SHE HAS CRAYOLAS ON HER FACE, EVEN!"

This sounds like the most embarrassing moment of someones life, but it wasn't that awful. It was kind of a meh, I tried, that sucks. I'll go sing it out and jump on a trampoline.

I was still a child. Obviously, boys couldn't make me cry but I wanted to cry every day at school because I missed my mom. I probably wasn't real ready to get it on with one of those 12 year old fetus-faced boys, anyways.



(I know my friends that have known me forever hate it when I don't use names. I know for a fact the recipient of the note reads this blog sometimes, and I can't call him out. The one who read the note out loud in the lunchroom was Brooks. Who sucks)

That blog..you know the one that's pointless...? (NTRK Day 4)

I often wonder how people would refer to me if they were talking to a friend and the friend didn't know who I was.

"Mary...you know, that obnoxious loud girl who breathes funny?"

"Mary...you know, she got lost in the parking lot and was crying in the bathroom?"

"Mary, you know Mary! Droopy-eyed democrat girl...?"

I am always surprised at the go-to description I give for people because they're never effective. Especially with husband with one T.



Mary: So I was talking to Cassie and I-

Mat: Who the fuck is Cassie?

Mary: Cassie. You know, my friend that likes Owen Wilson movies?

Mat: Okay. Continue.

Mary: Wait, but do you know who I am talking about?

Mat: No clue.

Mary: Are you serious? Cassie! Cassie. The one who smells like potatoes and friendship.

Mat: Go on with your story.

Mary: Do you know which one she is now? Cassie?

Mat: No, I've never met her. Just keep going, it doesn't matter.

Mary: It DOES matter. Cassie! She always uses prepositions at the end of her sentences. I always call her "girl" even though I hate when people say that.

Mat: Yeah, no idea.

Mary: WILL YOU PLEASE AT LEAST JUST TRY TO REMEMBER CASSIE. YOU'RE NOT EVEN TRYING OR LISTENING. CASSIE!

Mat: You can say her name as many times as you want. It won't help....

.....
.....

Mary: She's the one you said always wears baggie dresses so you can't tell if she has a nice body.

Mat: Oh yeah. That girl's name is Cassie? hmph.




If I'm talking to a friend about you and my friend can't figure out who I am talking about, I vow to say something super positive about you as the first reminder. Even if it's really hard.

"Julie, you know Julie. The one with..the...really..ummm...fresh breath..?..."

Sssssstrange Fascination, fascinating me...(NTRK day 3)

(NTRK is an acronym for November to Remember Kinda)


I have trouble sleeping.

The problem isn't physical, it's only mental. I have always joked with my friends that it's ADD but when I try to sleep it's almost the opposite. I can't stop focusing on a thought.

Sometimes this thought is a worry.

 "What am I going to do if I see a wasp tomorrow?"

 "I'm so sad that husband with one T didn't compliment me today"

"Why are there so many mean and poor people?"

etc.

But most of the time it is something completely random and senseless, making it all the more frustrating. I can't even explain it. I once couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about how the top of the easy cheese gets hard and what the hell are you supposed to do with that little tip of hard nasty hell cheese? I obsess over this thought.

Last night my thought that kept me up until nearly 2AM was The David Bowie lyric: "Time may change me, but I can't trace time."

It bothers me that he didn't make the statement prettier by saying "Time may change me, but I can't change time."

I mean, why the hell not!?  It makes sense, it's true, and it sounds 140% better. It flows right off the tongue.

I've listened to this song since I was a zygote and I don't know why my brain decided to pick last night to let it take over my life. I almost fell asleep and then I imagined David Bowie sitting on the basket of my banana seat bike, explaining the lyric to me. I imagined the written lyrics in every known language. I scribbled out multiple papers in my head with that damn lyric. I sang what I felt like should be the correct lyrics to some angels and some giraffes.

After 45 minutes, I said "ENOUGH MARY"

My first tactic to remove the thought is to take a walk. I take 3 laps around the couch and 2 around the island. Then I drink some water. Last night I threw in a jolly rancher.

I got back to bed and fell right back to sleep. My first dream was about my 9th grade zoology teacher. I don't remember how this related back to the song lyric but somehow it did. I turned to face the strain! Leave me alone, Bowie!

Time may change me, but I can't change time! (You probably even thought that's how that song went, am I right or am I right?)

After washing my face and singing a few other songs in my bathroom with the fan on, I finally got the mediocre lyric out of my head.

When the song comes on my iPod, I always sing my lyric You know, because it MAKES MORE SENSE. But this morning, on my way to work after my 3rd cup of coffee, that crazy pale bastard finally won.

I embrace change. Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes.

November to Remember Kinda. Day 2

Today is November 5, Monday. I have to go back to work today after being off most of late last week for my aforementioned assaulted neck and ear. Here's a picture of my swollen temple on my corn bag so you can feel ultra sorry for me and buy me a vacation to Zurich. 

My new job, let's talk about that. It's hardly "new" anymore. I have been there since May, with visions of free food,  proximity to coffee, and vision insurance dancing in my head; I went strongly into training knowing everybody was about to be blown out of the water. 

That didn't so much happen. I have never had a job that I didn't do well, but these last 3 months were my first quarter on "the floor" and the floor was not kind to me. I basically have a lot of people that I need to sell something. Every time they sell my thing, it goes to my number. If they don't want to sell my thing, they tell me to get the fuck away, and I go find a break room to cry in. I then call customers and try to make friends for the rest of the day, getting shot down every which way by everyone who wants to squash my smiles. I've been working on the weekends, working every evening, never leaving when I am supposed to, and I am still nowhere near where I want to be quota-wise or building relationships-wise.

Do I suck at this job? It appears so. But I am working very hard. I'm used to seeing how something could be done better, and taking those suggestions to someone in the same office as me, and those changes getting implemented. At Giant Computer Corporation, it's more of a "You have suggestions about what? Stop complaining and work harder." Then that's usually followed by an inside joke I don't get to be a part of because I'm still new and I still suck, so I go eat a muffin and think about a vacation to Helsinki. 

We'll have to see where this goes. I have new ideas to try to implement this quarter to see if they will make a difference. Hopefully Giant Computer will see something in me and bring me on to bigger and smilier things. I would eventually like to be a strategic lease rep. They only have a handful of people they support, so they are much less likely to get made cry in a break room 1/3 of the week. They also have the opportunity to travel to their geographic area to visit customers. I think I would love that. So that's on the goal list. I'll keep you advised through my November to Remember Kinda how the job is treating me. 

I also got a new scarf. It's so pretty that I refuse to acknowledge out loud how much it makes my face itch. 

"What'd that person over there pretend to say?"

November to Remember Kinda. Day 1

Here is my first entry in my November to Remember Kinda challenge. I originally decided since my job was sucking all the life all out of me I would promise myself to write every day in November.

But then November 1st happened and I got sick. Not sure what was/is wrong with me. Basically I had an ear infection and then the ear infection raped my neck. While kicking it and making it cry. Which in turn, made me hug a fluffy pillow and wrap my neck in hot corn for 5 days. I think I'm on the home stretch. I at least hope I am because I have to get out of my bed and get my mouth out of the kids' Halloween candy.

So here I am, November 4. Promising you that I will be here, every day for the rest of the month. It probably won't be funny or interesting or even readable. But it will jump me up in blog hits and get me that much closer to a book deal. Which is really all this is about anyways, can I  get a what what?

We had my family Thanksgiving today. It's my Mother's very selfless new idea of having holidays on random days, that way all of us divorcees and our offspring can be ALL HERS! It's a very good tactic. And it means I get to have a triptophan week of sleeping, which is better than ambien and sex combined when it comes to quality of sleep! Here's a picture of all of us today. Adrian looks slightly like he hates happy things, but getting everyone to look happy in a picture just doesn't happen.