I simply have no words for this

Hotdoll for Dogs

By: Midori Nakamura

Clement Eloy is a French product designer who has decided to "help out" dogs when they get the urge. Mr. Eloy has produced other provocative product designs, but this one is the most … primal.

The Hotdoll is a doggy love doll that is supposed to help channel the sexual appetite of canine pets. The doll's shape allows dogs to grasp it easily with their paws, "like female hips," as Mr. Eloy puts it on his Web site

Mr. Eloy proclaims, "A dog is an animal with an enormous sexual appetite which can't be controlled. Many methods consist in artificial ways to stop dogs' inborn caractère. These methods, like castration or meds, are going against the nature laws."

The doll comes in two sizes, large and small, for big and little dogs. It is made of plastic covered with a thick technogel skin ("for a soft feel"). The doll's feet and nose are made of rubber, so it will grip the floor when mounted. The pink hole ("most important part!") "needs to be washed regularly for hygienic reasons." Accessories include a "female odour" spray.

The Hotdoll has been in the media spotlight from the moment it was revealed to the world. And there must be many dog owners whose legs are receiving a little too much attention from their oversexed pets, since visitors to design Web sites everywhere are demanding to know where the item can be purchased. I have not yet discovered where the Hotdoll is for general sale. Please let me know if you find out!

Photo courtesy of feeladdicted.com

Kool-Aide Flavored Lunchmeat Anyone?

This is a bitch session, if you don't want to read complains, you may want to stop here.

You can either laugh or cry when things aren't going your way. But have you ever cried so much you started laughing? I have. And being the world's biggest snot producer, believe me when I say, it is not a pretty sight.

It started last night when I couldn't get to sleep. The new kitten has decided since I look nice and fluffy, she will use me as her personal pillow. As the upstairs is hot as Hades, I wasn't a happy camper. An 8/9 week old kitten does NOT know the word no. Finally dozing off, I woke to this horrible beeping sound. In my head, I was telling my sister to turn off her fucking alarm before it hit the wall. As I came awake, I realized I was alone and it was Steve's alarm. Smacking every button and turning every knob, I finally got the damn thing to shut up. I lay there, rubbing the sleep from my eyes when it hits me, a wave of nausea. I lie back down, smoke a cigarette and try to stifle the urge to hurl. I was successful.

I should have known when Steve came upstairs and complained about the upstairs needing cleaning and then the dog started barking that I was in for it. I pull on clothes and stumble downstairs. I have no idea at this point where Steve went, but I make it to the kitchen. My earlier attempt to keep last night's dinner was not so successful this time. Luckily, the kid was there to help me. I go into the living room and plop down, thinking I am going back to bed, I feel like shit barely warmed over. But no, it just wasn't going to happen today. Steve is frustrated and heads off to work, early. I sit there for a few minutes, check my email and smoke. After hearing it was going to be 93 today, I decide to get our little blow up pool cleaned up and refilled.

Thinking this was a good idea; I go to get the blower-upper thingy. I hear Andrew say, " That's just nasty Alyssa". Knowing, it takes a lot to make my kid's stomach turn, I knew I had better check things out. Alyssa had decided to follow in my footsteps and leave her breakfast on the carpet. Ya know, at least I made it to the trashcan. She could have had the decency to do it on the linoleum. I get that cleaned up and we finally head outside.

Standing outside at 8 a.m. getting sprayed "accidentally" was not helping my mood. After several smacks on the butt, Andrew gets my point and decides to behave. At this point, I'm thinking the day may just redeem itself. That is what I get for thinking. We go inside as the pool fills up. Throwing all our clothes in the dryer, I tell Andrew to decide what he wants to eat.

Andrew decides he wants bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast. Cool deal, I can handle that. I've never cooked eggs any other way than scrambled, but I'm sure I can do this. Yeah, well, if you don't like them fried hard, I'm not the person to cook breakfast for you. After 2 attempts I get the yoke, unpopped, into the frying pan. Feeling rather proud of myself, I get all of Andrew's food onto his plate. I told him to get something to drink and we will go watch t.v. until the pool is filled.

I then hear a thud, coming from the refrigerator. Knowing this is not a good sign, I look around and there is red Kool-Aide coming out of the refrigerator. As in, pouring out. And what is my dear son doing? Standing there with huge tears in his eyes. Somehow I manage to get a towel on the floor, but the Kool-Aide has already ran down the back of the fridge, into the drawers, pretty much drowning any food in paper containers. Luckily, we need to go to the grocery store anyway.

Our sink is screwed up. If you run water in one side, the other side starts bubbling back up. Knowing I could not clean the shelves in the kitchen, I have to carry everything into the bathroom, scrub it down, dry it and take it back. There was some unidentifiable lunchmeat, which now resides in the trashcan. I managed to salvage everything else.

I finally get it all cleaned up. I sit down to smoke a cigarette and look out the window. Guess what we forgot? The pool. There was enough water in the pool to let water run out on all 4 sides (and it was sloped downhill). The squirrels were on top of the clothesline pole; their little food haven had turned into a lake.

I guess it's a good thing we don't pay for water. All of this and it's only 9:19. I wonder what else the day has in store for me. I'm almost afraid to speculate. But at least I have a clean refrigerator and the grass has been watered. The rest will have to wait.

Newest Member of the Family

Last week, Steve and I went and picked up a kitten. She's a cute little kitty and Steve finally got some new pictures today.
Andrew and I call her Fussy, but she has no official name yet. She has quite a set of lungs on her. She has taken to sleeping with us in the bed. So far the only conflicts we have is with Holly, she isn't really thrilled with the idea of another cat. Then again, she's not real happy having Jasper either. We are still waiting on everyone to learn to get along. In time, everyone says, I guess we'll see.

all together now...awww

I can't get Steve to say "aww, ain't that cute" to save my life. Ok, well, if there were cheerleaders, maybe. But I found a website that even the hard asses have to say "aww". Here it is:

http://cuteoverload.com

Are there animals in heaven? R.I.P. Joshua

This is a question I have wondered about for years. I have asked many people from scholars to the regular Joe. My ex father-in-law, says there will be no animals in heaven. However, I have found many passages in the Bible saying otherwise.

I'm not sure this is how it works, but I have always had a picture, so to speak, of what happens when you die. Being a diehard Lutheran, we never really spoke of death and dying. It wasn't until I was working in a nursing home that I began to wonder what happened at the moment of one's death. I have come to the conclusion that when you die, you are either with Jesus in Heaven or in Hell. I believe there will be an ultimate judgement day, however, in the meantime, I would like to think my loved ones and pets are in heaven. I'm probably way off base, but it's my delusion, so please don't try to pop my bubble.

The reason I bring this up is last evening, I lost Joshua. Most of you may remember Joshua from previous blogs. She was my grandmother's cat. Yes, Joshua was a SHE. I owned her mother, Dutchess. So of course, Nannie needed a pet once Dutchess became a mother. And me being so young, thought the furball was just that, balls. So I gave my Nannie a "boy", who turned out to be a girl when it was time to get fixed. (this reminds me of Tammy's transexual cat "Ms. Kitty, another story for another time) We are still trying to pin down Joshua's exact year of birth, I know I was in the 8th grade. So, it was either 87 or 88.

Joshua and I had a love/hate relationship. To be exact, most days I hated that skinny furball and she loved me. Great thing about animals, they love you no matter what. I believe it's called unconditional love. When I first picked Joshua up, she hissed and bit at me. My first thought were "you ungrateful little wench, I'm giving you a home". For months, I thought this cat hated me. Come to find out, all she needed was a little coaxing. Me being me, was bound and determined to make this cat like me and eventually she did. I became her companion when no one else was home. She was company for me too. Even though she was a skinny ass furball who needed grooming constantly, I could always count on her being there. And it all came to an end yesterday.

I'm not sure if yesterday when I found her, I grieved more for her or for the loss of my last link to my beloved Nannie. I completely lost it. I sat in the middle of my kitchen floor literally wailing to the top of my lungs. Somehow I managed to call Steve to tell him what was happening and Johnny, who was just as devestated as I. It seemed like just minutes and Steve was there. I sat and cried and watched her life slowly slip away. Just as I did my Nannie's almost 11 years ago. Joshua did things her way to the end, just as I would have expected her to.

I hope Joshua is now with my Nannie. I just hope there are no blizzards, because poor Joshie would get the boot because "she's never seen snow"...

To wrap this up, I want to thank Steve. He went way above the call of duty as a boyfriend yesterday. Lord knows I couldn't have sat with the world's largest producer of snot and a dying cat. So, baby, thank you, for everything. And Joshua, thank you for being my kitty, if only for a little while.

eww, that smell

This morning I woke to the sound of splashing. As I have a fish tank in my room, I decided I might want to investigate. The noise wasn't coming from the fish tank. It was coming from the bathroom. Apparently, Joshua, my 19 year old inherited bitchy cat, had fell in the toliet.

I pull her tiny soaking wet body out, wrap her in a towel, take her downstairs and go ahead and give her a "real" bath. And no, she doesn't like those either. But at least she can sit on my bed without me feeling like she has the remenents of pee/poo on her.

I'm still not sure what she thought she was gonna do: get a drink, maybe?, use it? I'll never know since she is offically back to not "speaking" to me. It seems I am to blame for this moral offense in her mind. But now she smells like Pantene, she should STFU and be happy. Here is a picture of my beloved Joshua, can't you tell she is the epitomy of loveliness?

After going through this, I was reminded of the old "how to give a cat a bath" joke, so here it is:

1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.
2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.
4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds.Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this. 5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash and rinse".
6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.
7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.
8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.
9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.