Rebel Rescuer

Ok, so the neighbors were at again.  And so what if I happened to be staring glancing out of the bathroom window and overheard them?  And by them…I mean there were THREE distinct voices this time (if not four, unsure about the fourth).  Now, this was Sunday night at 11pm; when the rest of us are getting ready for a another week at the grind.

And of course, being the trained observer that I am, it didn’t escape me that there were no strange cars parked in said neighbor’s driveway.  Which leads me to believe that A) they are swingers….and B) they’re swinging with someone within walking distance.

Now we don’t live in what I’d consider to be a hip-happenin’, young neighborhood.  Most of the residents are in their 40’s and 50’s (and older)…with the exception of the neighbors on either side of us (who happen to be friends), and us.  And while I’m not exactly into the whole “neighborhood community blah blah” stuff (like I want people showing up on my doorstep to borrow power equipment and have coffee all the time), I am fully aware that there isn’t anyone within walking distance that SHOULD be hanging out nekked in a hot tub in a group setting.  I’m just sayin….

(OK, you’re right, I need a hobby).

But I guess what bothers me the most is that we haven’t been invited!  While I would certainly never, ever, ever, ever be caught dead streaking to the neighbors and cannon-balling in their hot tub, the fact that we weren’t included has me wondering if  A) we’re considered beneath their tree-hugging, tub swapping selves or  B) they don’t want us to know that they’re over there smoking marijuana and re-creating 70’s porn flicks or C) they’re frightened of us because of that little incident that happened when we moved in, involving pineapple upside down cake and several cans of ammo.  But I digress…Maybe I throw off non-neighborly vibes (um…highly likely).

Ya know, its pretty sad when you don’t want your neighbors to interact with you…but then get jealous when they don’t.  Of course, its not like they’re having a barbecue over there in the Crock Pot of Passion anyway.  Ick.  I mean, this isn’t normal neighborly activity.  This isn’t borrowing a ladder, picking up the newspaper, or having each other for dinner (ok, do NOT go there).  Maybe deep down I WANT them to invite us over so that I can say, “No.  While I may have a porn star for a friend, I don’t relish the idea of taking a dip with a bunch of swappers in a hot tub full of funky, foaming, sin glaze”.  Ok, maybe that seems a bit snobbish.  But still…whatever you want to do in your hot tub is fine with me….but take my advice, use a gag or tie a bag on your head or anything to keep the noise down. 

By the way, I’d like to take whatever pill will erase THAT visual from my frontal lobe forever.

Anyway, I think I’ll leave the bathroom window closed from now on. 

What would you do if you were in a foreign place, needed medical help, and were homeless?  Let’s say that the only person you had in the whole world was your best friend, someone that was with you all the time.   Neither of you speak the language, know where you are, and must trust solely in those around you for help.  You know that you came from a bad place, and only hope that you aren’t going back.  What if someone picked you up and took you into their home?  They offered you food, a clean bed, quiet and warmth.  Not just you, but your best (and only) friend as well.  You still couldn’t understand them, but they weren’t scary, you weren’t in jail, and you were clean and your stomach were full.

Well, if you think you’d be grateful….then HERE is where you need to go to read about Sophia and Maria.

Some of you have heard me talk about Holly (Queen of all things dog-nutrition, owner of Bowser’s Bistro and Holistic Hounds).  What you may not know is that Holly would give her last breath to help an animal in need.  And in this case she helped these two, from halfway across the country, get to safety.  Now we need to step in and take some weight off Holly’s shoulders.  These babies need medical attention, and that takes a bit o’ money.

So, if you think you’d be grateful if someone helped you out at your worst moment…then drop Holly a note and make a donation. 

Pointless Digression #1 – Just so you know (and because everyone seems to ask), we (nor Holly) receive ANY  support from the government for our rescues.  There are no grants, no tax breaks, no one waiting to give us money.  Funds we cannot raise must come out of our own pockets (which we do so often its a wonder our husbands haven’t left us).  PLEASE do not think that we are rolling in dough from government support.  Trust me, the last thing the government helps are dog rescues.  In the past three years, I would guess that Wiseguys has spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $10,000 rescuing dogs.  This is money right out of our pockets.  Trust me….there is NO money to be made in rescue, but we do it anyway….just like Holly.  So PLEASE send a donation in to help with Sophia and Maria’s medical bills.  Holly has done the work to save their lives…now let’s get them fixed up!!

(more…)

So being that last Friday was a day off for me, I did what any good gal would do….I headed to the nearest card table.  But, I never actually made it to the tournament thanks to a little windfall (OK, not so little) that can only be described as miraculous.

Being that I was early for the tourney, I slipped a 20 to the first penny machine I could find.  Moments later they were hand-paying me a little over $1500.  And of course, while I was waiting for the Uncle Sam forms, etc I slipped another 20 into the machine next to it.  And moments later cashed a lovely $1300 out of that one.  I stayed for a few hours, and won little bits here and there….and never made it to a card table.  Most of this day’s lovely winnings will go into the rescue bank account aka “The Fund for Unwed Dog Mothers”.  We have Frankie’s babies and newbie Kylie (who also came into rescue sporting the pregnant tummy) so these funds will be used for them!!  YAY penny machines!!

On another note, I do believe that I’m turning into something of a domestic goddess.  Now I’ve always been a freak about cleaning, but that’s about as far as my “wifely duties” went.  But lately I’ve been feathering the nest like a Stepford Wife and having an OK time of it.  Granted, I still have a long way to go before I hit June Cleaver, but right now I think I’m a very firm and steady semi-goddess.  I even have a menu made out for this week that includes the use of the stove!  Ok, so I haven’t actually BOUGHT the groceries yet.  Babysteps, baby.

On yet another note, we are having an impromptu July 4th wingding at the House of Insanity.  It wasn’t really my idea, but pressure from the Matrix has me making lists, locating decorations, and checking here for the very best in party fare.  Again, not my idea.  I would’ve been perfectly happy to hide from the incessant heat in the basement all day….but the Matrix is also feeling very Man of the House lately and so wants to have everyone over.  I wonder if I shouldn’t buy a lace apron and a string of pearls?  Probably wouldn’t look good with a beer and a cig, would it?

And of course, big get-togethers mean what to do for entertainment?  I mean, I’m not one to sit around shooting the shit all day.  So I’ll have to come up with some sort of games and/or activities to occupy the partygoers while I hide in the basement, away from the heat. 

What the Matrix fails to understand is that by inviting his mom, he has taken a simple party and turned it into a three-day stress-fest extravaganza.  I mean, there’s the fridge to clean out (oh yeah, she’ll be looking), garnishing and glazing to be done, the perfect flowers in the perfect vases, a refresher lesson with the dogs on how NOT to bark at the MIL, you name it.  Oh no, it can’t ever be a simple party when the MIL is coming.  Why do I do this to myself?  Why not let her see how things really are at the House of Insanity?  I know, maybe she should come over tonight when I’m trying to wrangle dogs, mow the yard, feed gruel to four tiny rescue babies, answer emails, make vet appointments and do laundry…all at warp speed?  Because I’m an amateur Stepford Wife, remember?!

Here are a few more things you didn’t know about me….

1.   I’ve written a full-length Shakespearian-style play.

2.   I’ve owned a one-eyed horse and one-eyed cat.

3.   My favorite room in the house is the garage.

4.   I have a hot tub and a hammock…and have never used either one.

5.   I have a problem relaxing.

6.   Sometimes I want to run away…and be Amish.

7.   But the Amish don’t play poker.

8.   Guys in Wranglers, kilts, jackboots, or any combination of the above make me smile.

9.   I started college for agriculture.

10.  And went back for archaeology.

11.  I paid for my own college….no loans.

12.   Kids scare me a little. 

13.   So do clowns.

14.   I slept on the living room floor for four months after my dog had leg surgery.

15.   I wanted to be a fighter pilot when I was a kid. 

Someone posted this little link on a forum that I’m on.  It was then that I realized just how much Paris and I have in common!!

*Paris and I both suffer from frequent “trash theft”.  She has hers stolen by celebrity-watchers.  I have mine stolen by raccoons.

*Paris and I both really like small dogs!  I’ve just never forgotten where I’ve left one. 

*Paris no doubt likes trendy clothes and chooses her outfits to help her stand out.  I like trendy clothes too….I just like them better on mannequins.

*I have a friend who’s a porn-star.  Paris has actually BEEN a porn star.

*I spend my days fighting crime.  She spends her days committing them.

*She likes Greek shipping magnates.  I like Greek food, and refrigerator magnets.

*Upon her release from the clink, she had 20″ extensions put in her hair.  I have a large collection of extension cords.

*Paris and I both use the term, “that’s hot”.  She uses it to indicate the cool-factor of an item, person, or action.  I use it to tell the dogs not to jump in the oven.

All in all, there are some similarities.  However, I would hope that most people would consider my inteligence slightly superior.  But then again, who needs intelligence when you have blonde hair, gazillions of dollars, and a shipping magnet…er magnate.