Saturday, June 30, 2007


Has anyone else noticed that not all of the advancements in technology are necessarily "a good thing"?

My point today; High Definition/Digital technology - NOT YOUR FRIEND.

Earlier this year we hosted a Ukrainian Orphan boy and while he was here we purchased disposable cameras for him and also brought out some of our ancient relics from the past - remember Polaroid "Instant" Cameras, and our old reliable 35mm drop and load which has been dropped more times than a baseball dipped in butter.

I was going through the pictures of our times together with a friend and noticed how many compliments she was lavishing on how "great" I looked, how happy; I had a glow about me etc, etc. etc.

This matter bore further investigation on my part as I hadn't heard compliments like that from looking at a photo of me since my wedding portraits 15 years before. I loved having this child in our home, but could 2 weeks really bring out one's "inner beauty"?

I studied the pictures closely and noticed the same clothes/make-up/hair style et al. I always sport. I looked at the people around me and noticed they also looked softer and gentler (It was like an ad for some sort of new toilet tissue).

Then it hit me it wasn't "inner beauty" it was poor quality camera imaging! The cheaper the camera that takes said photo is - has a direct correlation to your beauty quotient!

This is BIG news people. We are being led down the garden path to dispose of our disposables. Old reliable cameras that have served us well over these many years and invest high end $$$ for the brutally honest, tell it like it is, let it all hang out, YOU CAN"T HANDLE THE TRUTH, digital monsters of today.

With all of the HDTV hype haven't you noticed how many of the newscasters are being shot from a distance - it takes a crew of 10 make-up artists and a team of surgeons to be ready for high- def and most homosapiens are NOT.

Watch a Barbara Walters special sometime; that broad is shot in a freaking "cloud effect" you'll swear your glasses have fogged up or you need to invest in a de-humidifier for the fog bank that has settled in your living room; but it is the only way to see her 70+ year old face and not make the I Love Lucy "ewwwwwwwwwhhhhh" sound.

I experimented at home on my computer; I took a regular digital camera picture and was able to "zoom" in with such intense magnification (if it would have been an ant on the sidewalk, it would have burst into flames); you see things no one ought to see, except perhaps a very good Crime Scene Investigator or Coroner.

Do we really need to view one another's nasal and lipular forrestations, clogged pores, crows feet, moles and skin eruptions which need the attention of a good dermatologist?

Keep the fantasy alive; lay down your weapons of evil, the "Cybershots, SLR capable, Telephoto lens, 10x zoom capabilities and embrace the simpler days of a quick snapshot and the anticipation of getting duplicates made to share later.

I for one don't want to see that my Aunt Frida has a 5:00 shadow, and Grandpa could use a weed wacker in the ear lobe vicinity.

There is a reason I have replaced all of my friends with a geriatric crowd whose own myopia prevent them from seeing me in the harsh light of reality. My photos should help to document the reality in my head - not the one I am forced to live in.


Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Amusing Musings

First off I want to thank everyone for the wonderful welcome to blogger; I have been blown away by all of the kind words of encouragement ~ Thank you.

I was contemplating what my first official post should be about when it dawned on me that the best things in life to note are in the details - so here are some details I wonder if any of you have noticed.

Handicapped Spaces:

Why are there so many? In even the smallest of parking lots the ratio of blue lined spots to "get out and hoof it" spots is drastically disproportionate to the amount of people seemingly in need of said preferred parking.

IE: Home Depot/Lowes. Is this really a gathering point for people in wheelchairs? I don't think many of them are laying cable on the rooftops or planning to build a tree house anytime soon. Meanwhile you can see middle aged men and entire families pushing carts and dodging cars trying to get their haul of lumber and soil out to the back 40 in the scorching mid-day heat. All while passing empty spaces waiting in anticipation for the onslaught of people with special needs who never seem to come.

Another point: If you can crawl up out of a Corvette or down from a Hummer; you don't technically qualify as handicapped in my book. Hey, the baby boomers are all about to turn the page at once, technically all of us could qualify for handicapped parking eventually.

I was actually at a medical office building and had to park way, way out there (it was so far out that by the time I got to the building my shoes needed to be re-soled); anyway as I was catching my breath I looked around at the massive amount of empty but waiting handicapped spaces.

I had a few moments to kill before my appointment, and I was still out of breath from the hike, so I decided to count the spaces in this lot. Apparently, I was there so long counting that a kind woman in a mini-van stopped to ask me if I needed assistance (I am assuming my flushed face and heaving chest might have looked like I was in some sort of distress instead of someone who had just finished an impromptu jazzercise class). She kindly asked if I was OK or needed "help". I replied sweetly, "Oh no thank you; I am just counting how many handicapped spaces there are here. Can you believe there are 22 spaces?!" I said in a shocked tone. I was taken aback by her look of dismay and then disdain as I apparently had crossed some politically correct line which was obviously obscured from all the blue lines painted on the pavement.

Don't get me wrong, I have empathy and then some for people with compromised health (I am one of them)...but this is getting out of hand. As long as the building has access to accommodate people with wheelchairs let's not get carried away with good intentions gone awry.

Now there are special spaces delineated for trivial things to which I say "REBEL PEOPLE". There are spaces for pregnant women, employee of the month, VIP's, visitors, Dry Cleaning Only, this list goes on and on. I say park wherever you please.

Pregnant Ladies: You think it's hard to get to the door while the baby is still inside of you? What about the woman with 3 kids who is ready to pull her last hair out who has to park 2 blocks away because her kids are out now? Besides, I carry my weight like I'm pregnant...this space cracks me up; because how pregnant do you have to be to qualify for this special space ? What are they going to make me do pee in a cup?

Employee Of the Month: You get paid for working, you probably got your photo put up on a board somewhere - let the paying customers get in so we can keep your employer in business so he can continue to pay you.

VIP's - well this space is all ego related and I say if you have a strong sense of self - take the spot.

Visitors - Aren't we ALL visitors; none of us is going to live in the parking lot - go for it.

Dry Cleaners (or any other store claiming a spot in the lot for themselves): You are in a strip mall - everyone shares the same lot; Why should I park far away because you chose to lease next to the Chinese restaurant I want to eat at? How about this; offer customer service and bring the clothes to your clients so they don't have to get out. I'm parking there.

That is my rant for today. What are your thoughts on the whole Parking No Parking dilemma?

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Greatest Hits

If you are new to my blog; Welcome! I have brought over a few of my "greatest hits" from my old blog to give you a flavor of me.

Scroll down to read the posts on the bounce house and my sweet little dog and an interesting thing that happened on my way to better nutrition for her.

Thanks for dropping by.


Friday, June 22, 2007

Now Appearing On A Need To Know Basis

Hello, testing 1 - 2 -3; is this thing on?

Allow me to introduce myself, I answer to many names; Lady Enchantment, Your Highness, Chief, Witchy Poo, they are too numerous to put down here all at once but take my word for it the list is long and varied; for simplicity's sake, you may call me Valerie.

My arrival here has been a long and debated time in coming. You see I come from: a land where I started my blogging life and where I was comfortable and seemingly unaware of the apparent deficits associated with my comfortable home domain.

I had suspicions of course; I had been blogging for well over a year when the obvious lack of comments/responses to the ratio of visitors became a thorn in my proverbial paw.

Let's face it people, none of us do this for our health; we put it out there trying to engage the masses via words of honesty, intimacy, sarcasm, secrets revealed, humor you name it and I've tried it. Hours spent weaving a tale that would hold the audience's rapt attention all in exchange for the applause of cyber space the ever elusive "comment" a bit of praise or recognition for a job well done.

I don't want to say I'm needy; but I do have needs and they are plentiful.

I have logged over ten thousand visitors and if I bothered to tally the comments in that time; I am embarrassed to say they would add up in the several dozens at best.

When I cry out in vain, "No fair!" I hear the following as a sad excuse for why: "It is too much trouble to sign into spaces. I don't want to get "spam".

A few strokes on the keyboard to validate a fellow human being; tsk tsk people.

I held out a long time; truly I did. I ventured onto "Blogger" several times; spent hours trying to make sense of the codes and rules and all for not - I always returned home to the welcome arms of (Where everybody knew my name (although chose not to acknowledge it out loud).

Well, I am waiving the white flag with big orange B across the front. I signed up for blogger welfare, and my friend Christie helped to set up a page for me (it's humble - but I have big plans for the future). I am not going to abandon my old friend @
as you never know if things will actually be greener on this side of the pasture.

She actually approached it like a drug dealer: "Psst, I hear you want comments. You want comments I can get you comments and lots of them and the good kind too."
Me: "You can, really, but I've never had those before...I heard they are really good, but you can get addicted to them!"
Her: "What?! No, they're good for you, you'll feel so good after you have your first won't want them to ever stop!"
Me: "Well, OK, what do I need to do?"

I invite you to go back and get to know me via stored posts at my old haunt and leave the ever elusive comment for me here as I wouldn't want you to be inconvenienced by too many strokes on the keyboard - whatever you do don't strain anything.

I hope we'll be very happy together - I'll try to give you what you want and I hope in return I receive positive feedback to give me the encouragement to keep on going.

I'll just be sitting here and observing - no pressure!

Thursday, June 14, 2007

From June 4: 17 Months & Counting

HELL-o....17 months LID; enough said.

Did you know it is possible to be stalked, infiltrated and abused whilst sitting in your own home? Tis true, as I am about to testify before you.

By now everyone should have heard about the Do Not Call list ,which I have signed up for on numerous occasions, because I keep getting those oh-so-annoying sales calls every hour of the day and night.

This is an instrument for which I personally pay for to use as I see fit to reach out and touch whomever I choose. I never intended for it to be used against me like some weapon of mass-marketing destruction to seek and destroy my peace and quiet.
The latest occurrence is the strangest yet. I have been getting calls up to 5 times a day where the caller ID will tell me "TOLL FREE NUMBER". Whenever I see that I usually A) Let it go B) Answer the phone saying "We don't accept sales calls at this number - then hang up" C) Answer and immediately hang up.

This tactic has served me well in the past, but this particular caller had their timing down to a science. They called not once, not twice, not three times but FOUR times during the season finale of LOST and American Idol. They called in the morning, they called at 10:30 at night, they called during name the time and they called.

So here I am immersed, in the suspense that IS the season finale, when my phone rings the mandatory 4 times before the answering machine picks up; then I have to hear my own lovely voice instructing people how to use an answering machine (MENTAL NOTE: It is 2007....if someone doesn't know how to leave a message by now they are probably a Moron and you really don't want to talk to them anyway; I will change my message soon); anyway, I hear my message and then the robo-caller doesn't detect the human voice it is programmed to seek and annoy and it hangs up...which is great except my machine takes a moment to detect that there is no message and then disconnects and has to record a dial tone for what seem like enough time to cook a 3 minute egg.

This sequence of events happened 4 times in 2 hours; this really takes you out of the moment of whatever it is you may be doing, TV is just the example I am presenting here...but use your imagination as to what other events could be disrupted by the electronic invader.

So having bought into the whole "patience is a virtue" philosophy; I put up with this for about 3 weeks when on a Monday morning at 7:00 it happens again! This time I am really pissed; I stay on the phone and am ready to scream at whoever idiot has been randomly assigned to assault me via the phone lines and the ultimate insult happens...the robo-dialer hangs up on ME!

What the frig???? Is this some kind of high tech phone pranking by wannabe hackers targeting me; or perhaps the universe re-paying me from my youthful days of calling up and asking liquor stores if they have Prince Edward in a can and to let him out are coming back to taunt me? I may have occasionally used the phone to have Mike Hunt; Harry Butts, and other nepharious characters paged at a restaurant, but that provided laughter on both ends in my imagination. I even remember calling boys just to hear their voices and hanging up on them after they said hello about 5 times (I was easily satisfied back then). Of course this was all before caller ID and we were all able to call in wonderful anonymity.

Now we can screen who we choose to talk to and avoid friend and foe as it suits us. This is part of the technological world we now live in that draws us closer to the electronics that surround us, but keeps us distant from our fellow human beings; admit it, you would rather shoot off a quick e-mail then actually talk for an hour on the phone.

Of course some people have attached their cell phones permanently to their heads like aliens walking amongst us and use the phones to stay in constant contact. I have heard couples fighting over the air waves, one lady in Target speaking very loudly about her recent gynecological exam and the gory details of that encounter; people in restaurants shouting over their meals while the rest of us forgo our dreams of a peaceful and quiet meal out. A side note here, the microphone in the phones today are excellent and can pick up your voice speaking in a soft whisper; STOP making the rest of us part of your conversation...we don't want to talk to our own family and friends and we really don't want to hear about your latest drama.

Anyway, back to the robo-stalker, they had my attention now, and I promptly called the number listed on the caller-ID. I could hear the phone connecting to some overseas line in a distant country and immediatley knew this wasn't going to go well. It went like this:

Man on phone: "Hullo, theese izz Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull what izzz your umplyee nuuumber puhleeze?"

ME: What? Where am I calling?!

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull: "You are calling Qulmnop Company, what izz your umployee nuumber puhleeze?"

ME: "What? Are you asking for an employee number???"

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull: "Yes maam, puhleeze give me your umployee eye-dee nummber."

ME: "I don't have an employee ID people keep calling me and hanging up at all hours of the day and night, during moments I will never get back....what do you want from ME?????

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull: "Oh, yes maam, there is a computer error and we are currently working on it.

ME: "How can there be a computer error from a company I don't work for calling me everyday and hagning up????"

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull: "I uunderstand maam, we are working on it right now".

ME: "Good, I'm glad you are working on it, what does this company do?"

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull: "I ahm not at leeburty to say maam?"

ME: "You aren't at liberty to say! You guys are calling me....all the time; you wake me up, you interrupt my dinner, my down time, and take up space on my answering machine....and you can't tell me who you are?"

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull:
"I am very sorry maam, we are working on the problem right now".

ME: "OKAY then, as long as you are working on it; and Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull; I better not get some outrageous charge on my phone bill by calling this "toll-free number".

Sanjayyaaahhh Istanbull: "No maam, Yes, maam, have a wuunderfull day".

I am waiting to see my next phone bill and the charge of $1, 475.23 for calling Liberia or India or some other distant land where these scams originate.

The only phone call I really want is the one from China saying come and get your baby. Until then - keep in touch - who knows I may actually want to talk to YOU!!!

From May 13 - Bounce House Devours Woman


What started out as a lovely day to be spent with friends and celebrating a delightful little girls 4th birthday evolved into a day filled with heavy breathing, nausea, embarrassment, shame, discomfort and looking into the eyes of death and all mixed for some odd reason with uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Not the good type of laughter where you giggle and move on...this the kind of laughter that grips you so tight your entire insides clench up and you physically cannot breathe - where you mouth the words STOP IT...I CAN"T TAKE IT ANYMORE...but no one can (or they choose not to) hear you.

My warning to all who read this is simple: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES attempt to or actually enter a "BOUNCE HOUSE", these innocent-looking castles of air....seem so simple and fun loving...but they are Lucifer in-rubber; primary colors beckoning you to enter for a little fun and carefree abandon. But once inside, the evil is released and death comes a-knocking.

It all started when the "cool kids" shouted my name...".Valerie, come inside with us, we'll take a picture; come on "it's fun" (I've had more fun at a colonoscopy exam).

Let me preface this tale with the fact that the party had broken up and there were but a few stragglers left behind, including the infamous "M-3 Posse", which I now believe stands for Masochists, Morons and Maniacs. It had rained and the bounce house was wet and all but empty. The girls and, when I say girls, I mean full grown women who would usually be sipping iced teas and exchanging recipes, decided to find their inner child and enter what I now refer to as the House of Doom.

I must say watching them attempt entry was very comical from the outsiders perspective. It was easy to watch and giggle at the antics of Robyn the Radical and Crazy Christie. The view of them just entering thru the trap door (for that is truly what it is) was worth the price of admission; I even remember thinking to myself..."that is something I WOULD NEVER DO!" (You will see later that this follows a long pattern of lying to myself, i.e., the Farrah wings I sported were still cool in 1995, nobody will notice my two different colored shoes, I haven't gained weight, my clothes just shrunk). Anyway, I digress, they were screaming and carrying on and started to call my name; now usually when a bunch of crazies calls to me, I just ignore them...but this day was different, because the call of their voices was being driven by the evil power of the "House of Doom"....that evil within made their mad requests seem fun, inviting, and enticing, so I kicked off my shoes and walked toward the "House of Doom".

The classic Angel/Devil debate was going on in my unclear head as I approached the inflated balloon of death.

ANGEL: Where are you going...didn't you see the position you have to assume to enter the balloon of death? People will see you, there are many witnesses; many with cameras just waiting for an opportunity to catch you in a very unflattering and compromising position. Turn back NOW!

DEVIL: Go on, don't be so uptight, they did it, no one said anything about'll be fun. Don't be an old fuddy duddy.

I ignored the warning of common sense, thinking, "What is the worst thing that will happen?" It's just a bouncy house, children love them; they represent youth and carefree days of yore. I chose not to hear the theme song from "DEAD MAN WALKING" as I approached the "House of Doom".

You would think that the fact that upon arrival I had to mount this big wet foam block thing on my knees in white pants,lift up a flap and then crawl under a net would have disuaded me, especially when I knew full well the view I was going to be presenting to all those unfortunate people behind me. I have to be honest here - my days of being called "twiggy, slim and beanpole" are far behind me. I left them back somewhere in the early to mid nineties when I was still trying to pull off the Farrah Fawcett wings. Those days have been replaced with words like Big and Beautiful, Just My Size, Women's Department, Full Figured, and Extra, Extra Curvy.

So I proceeded towards the Temple of Satan. Upon approach I can hear the debate of good and evil once again:

ANGEL: Just peak inside, point to your white pants and tell them they're nuts!

DEVIL: You've come this far, don't be a coward! Get in there; they did it...come on WUSS!

Well, nobody calls me a wuss. So, I attempt to gain entry into Satan's Den. 1st attempt: I slide down the HUGE WET FOAM BLOCK...WTF! This didn't look that hard before. 2nd attempt: I slide down the HUGE WET FOAM hard is it to climb into a hole? 3rd attempt: I slide down the HUGE WET FOAM BLOCK...WTF. Now this is a point of pride....I'm going to get my full figured ass in there if it KILLS me. (Which you will see later, it almost did).

Finally, I somehow manage to claw my way into the Belly of the Beast. The first thing that struck me is that this was a huge mistake because once inside I notice there are 2 little children jumping in youthful abandon and oblivious that they are encased in evil along with my "friends". I was greeted with the vision of Radical Robyn on all fours, doggie style if you will, and Crazy Christie steadying herself near the sidewall made of netting and laughing uncontrollably and screaming for Robyn to get up. Meanwhile, Robyn seemed incapable of talking, but I think she was motioning for me to get down doggie style with her, which a prudish upbringing forbid me from doing. I knew I had to stand up quickly and make my way to the wall if I had any chance of holding onto my dignity. I thought Crazy Christie had the right idea, and knew I had to somehow steady myself along the "wall" which is simply netting...that same stuff used in your trunk to keep your milk from rolling around.

The first thing that came to my mind as I stood up was how quickly I was aware of everything I had eaten earlier in the day; it seemed to be floating in my stomach looking for an escape hatch. The second thing I remember was looking at the tattoos on Robyn's feet and marveling at how much they were moving almost like they were lifting up from the skin where they were attached. The third thing I noticed was that the children weighing in at a combined weight of probably 75 lbs. were creating a G-force in Lucifer's Lounge that was really irritating me.

I made it over to the "wall" which is funny when you think of it because a wall would give one the impression that there is stability and safety and protection to be found there. The truth is, this netting was really a web of morbidity, and once you came into contact with it, the entire structure is designed to give way like a house of cards.

I think I must have "leaned" upon the web for about 2/10ths of a second before I was encompassed in a sea of primary colors...RED/YELLOW/BLUE, and I think I saw a glimpse of Nemo, but can't be sure as I sunk into the depths of hell on earth. Apparently, and this is just my opinion, the "walls" are connected to the floor and if a person larger than an 8 year old takes down the wall, the entire structure will collapse upon itself. I noted that the roof was suddenly on me and not 10 feet above my head.

I was soaked from a fluid I can only surmise was the grim reaper's bile and I saw my life flash before my eyes... I thought "This is not how I thought it would end, not encased in a rubber tomb drowning and suffocating all at once". I didn't think my body was capable of obtaining the flexibility and contortionist moves required; my feet aren't that high above my head in the gynecologist's office.

I begged for some sort of help...desperate like drowning people are. My "friends" Robyn and Christie, were nowhere to be found I could only hear their laughter as I fought for dear life. The larger, older child tried to walk my way, but I knew there was no way in hell she could possibly pull me out. But I had the forethought to think "grab her in here with you...maybe then someone will help and at least you won't go alone!" I could see her eyes register the futility of her errand and she stayed just out of my reach.

To this day, I don't know how I righted myself, but somehow my will to live another day allowed me to belly my way up the "roof" onto the floor and the air started to re-circulate. At this point I was like Britney Spears in a rehab center: "I JUST WANTED OUT". I made my way to one of the corner pillars and couldn't decide if the wetness on my pants was rain water or urine and didn't much care.

I made my way back to the place where I had entered from. I could smell freedom and taste it in my mouth, but the fallen angel had other plans for me. You see, somehow, after my trauma from a mere 4 minutes before, I somehow forgot that I was not supposed to lean on the net wall. As I approached the trap door, I planned to back out and did so by presenting myself ass first to the entrance point and proceeded to grab the "net wall". Well, I hope you enjoy re-runs, because the exact same thing happened all over again. RED/YELLOW/BLUE/NEMO, bring the house down, fluid everywhere, laughter from Crazy Christie and Radical Robyn, feet up thinking "You can't escape your destiny" when I felt my opal earring get ripped from my ear. Well, do what you will with me, but keep your mitts off of my jewelry!

It was a split second decision. Rise up and get some life sustaining air or push the bloated rubber aside and go back for your family jewels. If you know me, and I think you do, I went back and reclaimed my earring, grappled my way back up the roof/wall/floor thingy and birthed myself from the doors of purgatory and deposited my big, beautiful butt directly onto the lawn.

Did I mention that the entire time this was going, on the party paparazzi were there snapping pictures!!! Robyn's husband (and I believe first cousin) took this opportunity to make a "snuff" film.

I will most likely post some pictures here, as I am sure my "friends" will already have them up on their sites so I might as well steal their thunder.

I escaped with a little less dignity and a new-found respect for the extreme sport of the Bouncy House.

Happy Mother's Day....and to Robyn and Christie, you know what kind of MOTHER'S I think you are!!!


From May 4 - Semi-Sweet 16


Long time no blog...I thought a little break might give me some time to reflect and ease some of the strain of this infernal wait - well good intentions and all that.

Today is the 16 month anniversary of our LID....Whoopee DOO this point that could simply mean we are half way there (worst case scenario).

The month of May also marks 2 years that we have been in the adoption process (long yawn here). So since there is really nothing new to report on the adoption front....onto what I've been up to.

Duchess Margaret Moonshadow Von Schnitzel aka Maggie Moo; our newest addition to the family is a handful! The demure, sweet, shy little angel I fell in love with at the shelter has turned into a long bodied, short legged, Terminator of all things stuffed, carpeted, hopping in the yard (don't ask), or covered in skin (aka ME). This dog makes the energizer bunny look like a speed bump.

We walk her 4 times a day, play for up to an hour at a time, daily brushings, constant snacks and God forbid I want to take a bath, because INCOMING....this dog wants to be right there with me.

After much research, I am starting her on the BARF diet (Bones And Raw Food)....I have been told by many people that duplicating the way dogs used to eat in nature is the best way to insure a long and healthy life....we'll see.

Yesterday while I was picking up the Frozen Raw Chicken Patties, I was lamenting to the woman who runs this business out of her house, that Maggie has a very strong Chew instinct and I hate to keep giving her rawhides as I know they are indigestable....she quickly scolded me for the rawhides and directed me to a bin containing some long narrow marrow looking things.

She said "You should give her these"....she promptly pulled one out and hit it on one of the 5 freezers in her dining room to prove to me how "hard" it was and went on to explain, that it was all natural, would not stain my furniture/carpet like a rawhide and was completely digestable and Dog's love em!

She then placed it in my hand; as I marveled at all the information I had been receiving since entering the house, I innocently asked her what it was made of....familiar with Pigs Ears....I wondered what this delicacy could be I held in my hand; noting it's long tubular shape.
Without even blinking....she said..."they are called Bullies"...I reiterated the name..."Bullies?"...."Yes", she said, "they are made from bull penis'"

I tried to keep the bile rising in my throat from exiting my esophagus...and quickly asked for a bag to put the thingy into.

YES; I actually bought one....I figured what the's natural after all and on the way home I came up with some great marketing phrases which I plan to submit to the company for their review





Your dog will say "Is that a Boner in your pocket? Then I'm Happy to see you!!"

Anyway, that is what I was thinking on the way home...and then when I got home I had to see Maggie Moo's reaction to what I am assuming was her first "bull penis".

I gingerly took it out of the bag (with a paper towel between me and the object) and offered it to first she sniffed it and seemed disinterested...but then; it was like some sort of animal Deja Vu. Her eyes got wide, she rose up on her hind legs, opened her mouth and had a look that I can only guess would have translated to "BULL PENIS!!! I've always wanted to try one of those!" She scampered off and proceeded to devour the poor organ of what I imagine at one time was an impressive point of animal pride.

This "treat" kept her occupied for the entire evening; with only occasional breaks to hydrate herself and go back for more. I finally had to remove it so we could go to bed, because I think she would have pulled an all nighter with that thing.

This morning I re-presented it to her and was able to take a long un-interrupted bath for the first time since her arrival.

Well, that is the latest from my world. I'm converted and will most likely go and purchase some more since they are obviously a hit with the K-9 in my home. Don't judge me until you have seen the joy in your beloved pet's eyes enjoying their very own "Bull Penis".
Send help soon; if you can't send help bring some drinks and let's lose it together!

V-crest OUT