Dogs can be grossed at times. I've seen Gino eat his own vomit and once ate a piece of Luna's poop! One day Luna was out walking with me and there was a dead suirrel on the road and she ran over to it and started to rub her entire body over it. WTF!
I came across this video that proposes an explanation for why dogs lick their human's face when he or she comes home. I love Gino to the tenth power. However, if he wants me to throw up a little, so he can eat, it is so not happening.
Showing posts with label ewwww. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ewwww. Show all posts
Mar 27, 2011
Nov 18, 2009
Diva Stomp Interrupted
Okay good people, enough days have passed that now allow me to write this post.
The other night I got up in the wee hours of the morning. I had made these amazing swedish meatballs in a mushroom sauce, and I wanted a brief little nibble.
I quietly got out of bed, and when I got to the hallway I felt excited about my culinary accomplishment. This prompted me to strut into the kitchen werking my diva stomp. I had one hand on my hip, and my body swayed back and forth, because I know I'm deserving of that self-love.
As I passed the dining room, my diva stomp came to a slippery halt. It went like this. I hit the floor hard with my foot, heard a crunch sound, and said foot made a fierce slide across floor. It almost knocked me on my ass.
My immediate thought went to a visualization of one of the animales in the house going potty on the floor. I went to flick on the light very peeved. I was determine to see the offense on the floor and identify whether it was Gino or Geronimo.
Darlings, when I looked to the floor I saw a mouse, squashed like a pancake with his head splattered across the floor. It looked like a combination of the following two images:
Every atom in my body came to a stand still. I held both of my hands on my face, and nearly passed out. I summoned my inner high-riding bitch and went into action.
I ran to the kitchen and got Clorox, Lysol, you get the picture. I grabbed a plastic bag and removed the mouse that had went from the frying pan into the fire. Geronimo the cat done went on the hunt. Obviously!
Within minutes the dining room smelled of germ and bacteria killing chemicals. As for those chancletas, they have not been worn since, but were thoroughly cleaned. I'm not ready to wear them just yet.
The other night I got up in the wee hours of the morning. I had made these amazing swedish meatballs in a mushroom sauce, and I wanted a brief little nibble.
I quietly got out of bed, and when I got to the hallway I felt excited about my culinary accomplishment. This prompted me to strut into the kitchen werking my diva stomp. I had one hand on my hip, and my body swayed back and forth, because I know I'm deserving of that self-love.
As I passed the dining room, my diva stomp came to a slippery halt. It went like this. I hit the floor hard with my foot, heard a crunch sound, and said foot made a fierce slide across floor. It almost knocked me on my ass.
My immediate thought went to a visualization of one of the animales in the house going potty on the floor. I went to flick on the light very peeved. I was determine to see the offense on the floor and identify whether it was Gino or Geronimo.
Darlings, when I looked to the floor I saw a mouse, squashed like a pancake with his head splattered across the floor. It looked like a combination of the following two images:
Every atom in my body came to a stand still. I held both of my hands on my face, and nearly passed out. I summoned my inner high-riding bitch and went into action.
I ran to the kitchen and got Clorox, Lysol, you get the picture. I grabbed a plastic bag and removed the mouse that had went from the frying pan into the fire. Geronimo the cat done went on the hunt. Obviously!
Within minutes the dining room smelled of germ and bacteria killing chemicals. As for those chancletas, they have not been worn since, but were thoroughly cleaned. I'm not ready to wear them just yet.
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