My life has gone to the dogs.

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Somewhere between the hours of 4 and 5am last night, during a fit of my routine insomnia, I got a pretty feisty evil eye from a 3 pound Maltese because I moved. 

So, naturally, I laid in the most uncomfortable, stiff position for the rest of the night to avoid being on the receiving end of those beady little evil eyes once again. Of course, it got me thinking...

My life has gone to the dogs.

These two dogs, to be specific.

The three of us share one king sized bed and somehow it seems I'm the one out of place.

I get kicked by Ella multiple times through the night, as if I'm invading HER space.

Maybe I belong on the floor? But then I'm pretty sure we'd have one empty king sized bed and one crowded floor. 

Riddle me that.

I've also become a literal human dog bed at some point during these last 6 years since bringing home my beloved first born, Ella.

Why lay in those pricey, plush little beds your human purchases when you can get a living, breathing human?

Clearly, these two are far too superior for something as juvenile as a dog bed.

Mom Bed, hashtag for the win.

Sleeping up to the last possible 20 minutes before work is only an option if I want to be late for work.

Because we have to do this for at least 15 minutes every morning.

This is normally when I scare my neighbors away with my desirable bed head and stylish jammies.

Shame? What shame?

Let's not forget, I'm the one with the dog who shedoobies on people's doorstep.

Any time I try and be all vain and send a girlfriend a mirror shot of an outfit I'm thinking about wearing, these two photo bomb me like a tourist at Disney.

I mean, what #ootd photo is complete without a dog's ass?

None of mine are, that's for damn sure.

I've also come to realize that no homemade meal is complete without this audience:

They're my biggest fans and I always get a standing ovation from them.

Even more so when they get in on the taste testing - but we try to keep that to a minimum.

You know, to avoid the whole sick as a dog thing.

They're just lucky they have snuggle skills that put most human's snuggle skills to shame. 

______

PS. I just realized, like an idiot, that tomorrow is my 100th post. If I get enough questions I'll do a vlog. Ask away... feel free to email, tweet and/or comment.

Spanks! 

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Two anxiety ridden Maltese and one adjusting mama.

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

So, I'm still adjusting to this new 1 bedroom apartment thing and so are the dogs.

Yesterday I introduced my little Princess Palace to the tech savvy world of cable and internet, which basically means that I'm a citizen of America again. Thank the good lord, right?

And because cable companies are so specific and helpful, I had to bring in some back ups for the convenient time frame of 3pm-5pm so that I didn't miss them. My back up would be my mom, or Boskita.

Little did I know that confining sweet Boskita in the walls of my cable-less, internetz-less apartment would cause her to go stir crazy. Or maybe she got in to the boxed Chard?

All I know is that I began to receive photos like this while I was closing down my work day:

-Insert my rushing home abnormally faster than the usual.-

I'm fairly certain they were overly ecstatic to see my face walk in that door. 

Oh, that Boskita. Sorry, babies.

Speaking of babies, they haven't adjusted to the new place yet - in fact, I am currently in the market for some type of dog weed to calm their nerves. Moving is stressful stuff when you're 3 and 7 pounds, apparently. 

Which was made pretty clear when I found that one of these little devils angels took to gnawing on a door frame while I was at work yesterday. I'm so pleased, really.

If anyone has a dog weed guy, hook a sister up.

They're still doing their part to keep mama bear safe though...

Terrifying, I know.

Anyways, that's really all I've got for you today. 2 anxiety ridden Maltese and one adjusting mama.

I hope all of my Eastern Amurica people are hanging in there and Sandy isn't beating on you too hard. This Floridian knows all about bastard storms and I know you all can't be having a good time. You all are in my thoughts and prayers - stay safe, please.

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My meatball and my Quail Man.

Monday, 22 October 2012

Oh, hey there!

I'm about 5 hours later than I prefer to post but I'm finally posting so boom.

Seems I actually have to work extra hard this week since I'm taking Friday off for my big move to the Princess Palace! 

Enough excuses on my fashionably late post, today I am going to share a little series I began this weekend while packing up my life.

It seems I have some strange obsession with collecting dog hats.

Yes, you did read that correctly. I said dog hats.

Explaination: I Instagramed this photo which led to an entire series via the Twitter machine.

This is Ella modeling her sombrero.

She enjoys margaritas (Skinny Girl only, please.) and burritos.

Give her a maraca and she will bust out some serious tunes for you to cha cha to.

Here's my boy trying to get his Christmas on already.

Halloween and Thanksgiving? Nope... reindeer have to prepare early.

Also, the mean face? He's just pissed his nose isn't red.

I may not be a human mother but I can still put large flowers on my dog.

She's really excited about it too.

He likes to party.

That's his party face.

We're a big fan of Jersey Shore.

This is my meatball. We're still working on her tan.

And this is his updated version of Quail Man.

Doug Funny used a belt but Seb man is all about the tie. 

He's ready to save Patty Mayonnaise.

But not Skeeter. That name is messed up.

And there you have it, friends.

Stay tuned tomorrow to see what other sad excuse for a post I come up with.

Sorry... I'm moving, cut me some slack. 

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