After my dog Dylan passed away last month (see Dylan: 1995-2005), several of you inquired as to whether I'd be getting another dog. Since I still had Boo, my cat who doesn't handle change very well, I'd decided that I wasn't going to get another dog. Instead, I would let Boo live out his last few years as the only pet. Well, that was my intention anyway.
Earlier today, a friend who shall remain nameless (her name starts with the letter Sinde) e-mailed me about a couple of abandoned puppies that had been found at her work. If no one stepped up to take them home, the puppies were going to be taken to a shelter. So she asked if I could take one or both of them as a last resort. Actually, she sent me SEVERAL e-mails. Plus, she sent a video to my cell phone showing me how adorable the puppies were. One of her coworkers took one of the dogs, but no one stepped up to take the other one.
So, this evening I picked up my new puppy Spartacus. I was going to name him Peeve, because I always wanted to say I had a pet Peeve, but that seems more like a cat name. So I chose the name Spartacus instead. We took Spartacus to a groomer to get him cleaned up and dipped, and then I brought him home. Here are a few pictures of the new addition:
Friday, October 28, 2005
Friday, October 07, 2005
Maturity is knowing when you can be immature
Where I work, my coworkers and I had offices in two buildings. Our main building had a lot of empty space, so the people on my floor are being moved over to the main building this weekend. At the close of business today, we had to have our offices packed up and ready. I took the day off today (after all, it is my birthday ... hint, hint), so I had to pack my office yesterday.
Some plastic crates were provided by the moving company to be used for packing. They could be stacked together and placed on top of some rollers to make it easy to move them to the other building. However, as shown in the picture linked below, they also made it easy to play:
The people in their offices were surprised to see me go speeding by, but one of my coworkers was able to get a picture with his camera phone. I ran into the wall once or twice, but luckily I only hit my head.
Some plastic crates were provided by the moving company to be used for packing. They could be stacked together and placed on top of some rollers to make it easy to move them to the other building. However, as shown in the picture linked below, they also made it easy to play:
The people in their offices were surprised to see me go speeding by, but one of my coworkers was able to get a picture with his camera phone. I ran into the wall once or twice, but luckily I only hit my head.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Dylan: 1995-2005
![[Dylan]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_vcXv2ItleuKlK-k1RFxHirOtnpAVgQk8FTQ4wi3gd736clXvGOzLpCiCOjKISTp9C4tSBbRe5nzwS7FU2gRe3hDGbJ2ePoeFCIy68MJ-o=s0-d)
Earlier this week, my dog Dylan was feeling lethargic and not eating, so I took him to the vet. After the initial tests, they had me bring him back in last night so that they could put some fluids in him overnight and run some more tests today. Unfortunately, while at the clinic Dylan passed away this afternoon. Since he was 10 years old, they believe his kidneys just finally gave out.
![[Boo and Dylan]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sOPHXcn96nvj5jTHVVdoSnV5iaDYLTHthG0gcSRhsF8DIMeaOZ3buaVmW1uVF6Cxgd7wEUBWRlPCCbmvVs7oBXy6AkoN_E6J6hcQhf9aEVtyCzwlA07grm=s0-d)
Dylan was given to me by my friend Wayne a couple of years ago. He was a good boy (Dylan, not Wayne), he got along well with my cat Boo (eventually), and he was an expert at getting out of the backyard. In fact, on a couple of occasions he got out of a locked house, which worried me, because if he had figured out how to open doors, then I was never going to keep him in the house. Luckily, he had only figured out how to nudge open the windows, push out the screens, and jump into the yard. Still, pretty impressive for a dog.
![[Regal Dylan]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_ufaIxtADyAsR0F93Uhor6ozSRbpnA97zm98IdH8JE7UXIrIgagY6vKPndV2X3OxMISJJOG3kKkhiUVXu4lv4cuPJKQ2Oc580fH5hPFRzqltVqbhkM=s0-d)
One time, Dylan got out of the house while my friend Tom was housesitting. Tom told me that Dylan was a very smart boy, because he just walked out the garage door that Tom had left open. To which I replied, "Well Tom, apparently Dylan doesn't have to be very smart. He just has to be smarter than you."
Monday, September 05, 2005
Doctor Improvisation
One of my softball teams had a game tonight. (Yes, on Labor Day.) And since we didn't have a full team show up, we only played 3 outfielders. (Also, we didn't have a second baseman, and a player on the other team played catcher for us. Needless to say, we lost.)
I ended up playing centerfield, which is a lot of room for an old guy like me to cover. Luckily, I make up for it by being really, really slow. One of their players hit a fly ball in between me and the rightfielder, so I took off after it. At the last minute, I dove for it, caught it, landed on my left shoulder, and rolled a couple of times. The crowd went wild! Ok, it was little kids and they were already screaming, but in my version of the story, they were screaming for my incredible catch.
When I got home, I wanted to put an ice pack on my shoulder. I thought it was already in the freezer, but I couldn't find it. I looked in several places it might have been, but my search turned up empty. Sometimes you just have to improvise:
http://donyoung.us/images/shoulder_ice.jpg
September 10th followup: Since the pain never went away, even with the "frozen vegetable" packs, I went to the clinic today to have the shoulder checked out. And after a quick three hour visit, they told me the shoulder was separated, specifically an Acromio-Clavicular Separation. Some of the ligaments were torn as well, but they should heal just fine with rest. It looks like I'll have to take a few weeks off from softball.
I ended up playing centerfield, which is a lot of room for an old guy like me to cover. Luckily, I make up for it by being really, really slow. One of their players hit a fly ball in between me and the rightfielder, so I took off after it. At the last minute, I dove for it, caught it, landed on my left shoulder, and rolled a couple of times. The crowd went wild! Ok, it was little kids and they were already screaming, but in my version of the story, they were screaming for my incredible catch.
When I got home, I wanted to put an ice pack on my shoulder. I thought it was already in the freezer, but I couldn't find it. I looked in several places it might have been, but my search turned up empty. Sometimes you just have to improvise:
http://donyoung.us/images/shoulder_ice.jpg
September 10th followup: Since the pain never went away, even with the "frozen vegetable" packs, I went to the clinic today to have the shoulder checked out. And after a quick three hour visit, they told me the shoulder was separated, specifically an Acromio-Clavicular Separation. Some of the ligaments were torn as well, but they should heal just fine with rest. It looks like I'll have to take a few weeks off from softball.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Where is that pesky esophagus?
My older brother Richard went to the hospital a couple of weeks ago because of some stomach pains. The doctors eventually found that he had been bleeding internally and that he had lost a lot of blood. They initially thought he had been bleeding from his esophagus, but they eventually determined it was from his stomach. After a couple of weeks of testing and medicating, Richard is doing fine. He returned home from the hospital yesterday and starts back to work on Monday.
Naturally, there's more to the story. My dad had called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that Richard was in the hospital. Dad wasn't exactly a scholar in high school, but I'm never really sure when he's yanking my chain or not. When telling me what problems Richard was having, here's how our conversation went.
Dad: They think he's bleeding internally from his esophagus.
Me: Oh.
[pause]
Dad: Where is the esophagus?
Me: It's his throat.
Dad: Oh.
[pause]
I thought it was in his ass.
Me: [chuckling] Uh, no, it's at the other end of the digestive tract.
That's my dad! (Although he does sometimes claim otherwise.)
Naturally, there's more to the story. My dad had called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that Richard was in the hospital. Dad wasn't exactly a scholar in high school, but I'm never really sure when he's yanking my chain or not. When telling me what problems Richard was having, here's how our conversation went.
Dad: They think he's bleeding internally from his esophagus.
Me: Oh.
[pause]
Dad: Where is the esophagus?
Me: It's his throat.
Dad: Oh.
[pause]
I thought it was in his ass.
Me: [chuckling] Uh, no, it's at the other end of the digestive tract.
That's my dad! (Although he does sometimes claim otherwise.)
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Mother of Invention
The world is full of people who can't drive. Typically, those people include everyone in between you and your destination. So how can a person tell when the drivers around them can't drive? Paintball cannons. That's right, paintball cannons.
I think all cars should come equipped with a paintball cannon mounted on the hood or grill. A trigger would be placed on the steering wheel, and the driver would be allowed by law to fire the cannon at any driver who cut them off, changed lanes without signaling, or who drove more than 10 MPH below the speed limit. The worse someone drove, the more times they would be shot by paintballs. Thus, the really bad drivers could be determined by the amount of paintball splotches on their car, and they could be avoided.
I think all cars should come equipped with a paintball cannon mounted on the hood or grill. A trigger would be placed on the steering wheel, and the driver would be allowed by law to fire the cannon at any driver who cut them off, changed lanes without signaling, or who drove more than 10 MPH below the speed limit. The worse someone drove, the more times they would be shot by paintballs. Thus, the really bad drivers could be determined by the amount of paintball splotches on their car, and they could be avoided.
Friday, July 22, 2005
The Wisdom of Accounting
I love accountants. Not in the romantic sense, unless of course they're beautiful and female. No, I love accountants in the sarcastic sense. Nothing throws off an accountant more than not following a process to the letter.
Last month, I had to go to a work meeting at our Houston location. In my opinion, it just as easily could have been done with a conference call, but hey, they reimburse for the mileage, so I went. A few days after I got back, I filled out the electronic expense report for the mileage reimbursement, had it approved by my manager, and sent it off electronically to the bean counters in accounting. A month later, I received an e-mail from accounting saying they couldn't process my request because I hadn't sent in my receipts. I was confused (how odd), because there were no receipts to send in.
I asked my manager who I needed to contact over there, but instead he explained to me what I had done wrong. When sending in the electronic expense report (you know, so that we can save paper), I had to print out a receipt report which stated that I had no receipts, and then I had to send that to the accounting department in our Houston office. After all, it's not like the accounting department couldn't have printed that report themselves, thus saving the time of waiting for me to send them via "real" mail. No, that would be too easy. And of course, it makes perfect sense to require printed reports for "paperless" processes.
Oh well, I'm sure I'll get another e-mail in a week or so telling me something else I forgot to do. I might get that money in time for my birthday this fall. (Oct. 7th: Shop early, shop often.)
P.S. Wow, I started the birthday reminders early this year.
Last month, I had to go to a work meeting at our Houston location. In my opinion, it just as easily could have been done with a conference call, but hey, they reimburse for the mileage, so I went. A few days after I got back, I filled out the electronic expense report for the mileage reimbursement, had it approved by my manager, and sent it off electronically to the bean counters in accounting. A month later, I received an e-mail from accounting saying they couldn't process my request because I hadn't sent in my receipts. I was confused (how odd), because there were no receipts to send in.
I asked my manager who I needed to contact over there, but instead he explained to me what I had done wrong. When sending in the electronic expense report (you know, so that we can save paper), I had to print out a receipt report which stated that I had no receipts, and then I had to send that to the accounting department in our Houston office. After all, it's not like the accounting department couldn't have printed that report themselves, thus saving the time of waiting for me to send them via "real" mail. No, that would be too easy. And of course, it makes perfect sense to require printed reports for "paperless" processes.
Oh well, I'm sure I'll get another e-mail in a week or so telling me something else I forgot to do. I might get that money in time for my birthday this fall. (Oct. 7th: Shop early, shop often.)
P.S. Wow, I started the birthday reminders early this year.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Give me Kato Kaelin hair
Earlier today, I went to The Color Salon to get my hair cut. Even though it's out of my way, I go there because 1) Lisa, the owner, is a good friend of mine, and 2) since I've done some work on their website, my haircuts are free. A friend who gives me free stuff is my favorite kind of friend.
I decided I needed a change in my hair style. Something drastic! Something daring! I told Lisa, "Make me look like Kato Kaelin." I think she did an excellent job.
As you might have guessed, I'm wearing a wig in that picture. A woman who makes wigs was in the salon with a set of wigs, and one of them was being cut and styled for another woman who had lost her hair due to chemo treatments. While waiting to get my haircut, she let me play with one of the wigs (because that's what I do).
NOTE: I thought I'd take the opportunity to plug a charity called Locks of Love, a non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children suffering from long-term medical hair loss. Five years ago, when I had Lisa cut off 10.5 inches of my hair (before picture), I donated it to this organization.
I decided I needed a change in my hair style. Something drastic! Something daring! I told Lisa, "Make me look like Kato Kaelin." I think she did an excellent job.
As you might have guessed, I'm wearing a wig in that picture. A woman who makes wigs was in the salon with a set of wigs, and one of them was being cut and styled for another woman who had lost her hair due to chemo treatments. While waiting to get my haircut, she let me play with one of the wigs (because that's what I do).
NOTE: I thought I'd take the opportunity to plug a charity called Locks of Love, a non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children suffering from long-term medical hair loss. Five years ago, when I had Lisa cut off 10.5 inches of my hair (before picture), I donated it to this organization.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Hot air
This weekend, my friend Sinde's sister Renate had one of her baby showers. I was invited to come along and take pictures of the event, and after much arm twisting, I decided to go. (Actually, I heard there was going to be free food.) Unfortunately, they also managed to put me to work. From the looks of it, I think they found a job perfectly suited for all of my hot air:
A couple of quick stories (like you didn't see that coming). Renate isn't a person who likes to cook, unless it comes from a box. Her idea of a gourmet meal is Kraft macaroni and cheese ... not that there's anything wrong with that. The card I got her was a picture of a bun in an oven ... get it? Bun in the oven. On the inside I wrote, "Well, I guess you finally cooked for once."
Sinde got her brother-in-law a Diaper Tool Belt, which included things like a diaper, a mask, tongs, rubber gloves, lighted goggles, diaper rash cream, etc. For the card, she came up with a very funny 10-12 line poem that mentioned everything in the tool belt, except for the diaper rash cream, mainly because she couldn't think of a good rhyme for the product name. I was enlisted to help and came up with the following lines (which mention the actual diaper rash product):
We finished our poem,
But in our haste
We couldn't find a rhyme
For Boudreaux's Butt Paste.
Ok, so it's not exactly Shakespeare. Then again, I don't think he ever had to rhyme butt paste either.
A couple of quick stories (like you didn't see that coming). Renate isn't a person who likes to cook, unless it comes from a box. Her idea of a gourmet meal is Kraft macaroni and cheese ... not that there's anything wrong with that. The card I got her was a picture of a bun in an oven ... get it? Bun in the oven. On the inside I wrote, "Well, I guess you finally cooked for once."
Sinde got her brother-in-law a Diaper Tool Belt, which included things like a diaper, a mask, tongs, rubber gloves, lighted goggles, diaper rash cream, etc. For the card, she came up with a very funny 10-12 line poem that mentioned everything in the tool belt, except for the diaper rash cream, mainly because she couldn't think of a good rhyme for the product name. I was enlisted to help and came up with the following lines (which mention the actual diaper rash product):
We finished our poem,
But in our haste
We couldn't find a rhyme
For Boudreaux's Butt Paste.
Ok, so it's not exactly Shakespeare. Then again, I don't think he ever had to rhyme butt paste either.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Unexplained injuries
This morning, I woke up with an unexplained cut on my forehead. If I were a drinker, I could easily assume that I had injured myself while I was drunk and just not remembered it. However, I'm not a drinker. So how do I explain this cut? Personally, I think my cat Boo was trying to kill me in my sleep again. "Again?" you say. That's right, again.
Several years ago, I was living in an apartment with just Boo and myself. At that time, the headboard on my bed was straight across the top, and it was one of Boo's favorite places to sleep. One night, I was awakened at 3:00AM by a sharp, stabbing pain in my neck. I reached for my neck and felt several cuts and scratches and some fresh blood. Apparently, Boo had fallen off the headboard and landed on my neck with his claws out. But I don't think it was an accident. I think he pretended to fall and was trying to slice through my jugular.
Since then, Boo has been biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. And that opportunity was last night. However, since my dog Dylan was laying on the bed next to me as my protector, Boo's evil plan was thwarted this time. Once again proving that dogs are better than cats.
Several years ago, I was living in an apartment with just Boo and myself. At that time, the headboard on my bed was straight across the top, and it was one of Boo's favorite places to sleep. One night, I was awakened at 3:00AM by a sharp, stabbing pain in my neck. I reached for my neck and felt several cuts and scratches and some fresh blood. Apparently, Boo had fallen off the headboard and landed on my neck with his claws out. But I don't think it was an accident. I think he pretended to fall and was trying to slice through my jugular.
Since then, Boo has been biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. And that opportunity was last night. However, since my dog Dylan was laying on the bed next to me as my protector, Boo's evil plan was thwarted this time. Once again proving that dogs are better than cats.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
