A Two-For

Today ended up being a pretty douchey day. I knew my last blog was too friggin' cozy. Ha. See, we're having some troubles with our boy, Dex. That little shit has started this possession aggression, and Joe and I don't know what to do. He doesn't really get possessive over his toys or even food (unless he's thrown it up, which did happen), but usually it's random shit - like a kleenex he grabbed or gravel from the road. Yeah, he randomly picks when he's going to flip shit, and then he snarls, growls, and bites at you. He got me today - drew blood. I was shocked and nearly cried. Not to mention this was while we were on a walk that already wasn't going well. At first this dog would walk, then after a while it got to be that we were dragging him. We realized that it improved if we walked him after he ate rather than before. Okay, whatever. Well, now the little shit will only walk if BOTH Joe and I are present. And so this afternoon, I was dragging him (because Joe works during the day), got frustrated, stopped to call my mother, noticed the dog was eating something, tried to get it away, and BAM. He fucking bit me. Really? This little creature is going to be what protects ME when Joe's gone. Something's gotta change, but this is beyond anything I've dealt with previously. I spent some time at the library today trying to research it, but there wasn't a whole lot for his specific issue. I think it's time to talk to a dog trainer. Seriously. These are the same behaviors and tendencies of a dog that ended up mauling me when I was a baby. Teensy bit scared, yes.

Further, I am becoming increasinly frustrated with this damn chili cook off tomorrow. Team leaders are not properly delegating. No one really knows who's bringing what, and I couldn't get any details until the last minute. It's always the same damn story with the Army. No one can give any information until everything's already a goddamn cluster fuck. It's possible someone will get dunked in my crock pot o' chili tomorrow. Or at the very least I'll be a little verbally inapproriate as I witness in person the disorganization in which I am forced to participate. That all aside, I still intend to make the best damn chili there.

I forgot how much more satsifying a blog is when you're pissed. Writing about happy shit just doesn't feel right. And on that note, one last thing: every fucking wanna be gangster (and true gangster) in Columbus, GA can go to fucking hell. You drive around in your douched out cars, riding on 'dubs,' sporting your ridiculous paint/tint job, and my personal favorite, you blast your god awful bass so that when you pull up behind me, I damn near have a panic attack. Why in the hell do you need that much bass? When did that become a status symbol? And are you aware of what that status is? It's dumb ass. You're a complete moron. And the only way to be more moronic is to start robbing shit. Stop it. STOP STOP STOP IT.