gyzym: (JUST THIS ONCE)
Erp, so. Know I've been posting less than usual, and I am really sorry about that! RL's been a little nuts, my bad, dudes, but I am trying! And in homage to this, here is a post full of funny things. And puppies. And a bunny inna hat.

So, to start, here is the most hilarious video ever:



And here's a bunch of other stuff! )
gyzym: (Doggy headphones)
DUDES. FELLOW DEADHEADS ON MY FLIST. MY FATHER SHOWED UP JUST NOW, FRESH FROM GOING TO FLORIDA TO SEE THE LAST TWO SHOWS IN FURTHUR'S SPRING TOUR (I know I know I'm bitterly jealous too, I can't even talk about it), UNABLE TO WAIT FOR BREAKFAST TOMORROW BECAUSE HE WAS SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS THING HE GOT ME, AND HE GAVE ME THE COOLEST SWEATSHIRT IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.

Cut because those of you who don't know the Grateful Dead will not understand the SHEER UNENDING AWESOME OF THIS PRESENT. )

For those of you who are don't care about the Grateful Dead (and THAT IS SAD FOR YOU, BY THE WAY, I SHED A TEAR FOR THE LOSS OF AWESOME IN YOUR LIFE, THEY ARE AMAZING), here is a picture of my dog...whose name is Jerry Garcia...so we're still totally on topic, really.



He says, I WAS SLEEPING, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT PHONE, I AM NOT IMPRESSED WITH YOU OR YOUR BEHAVIOR AT ALL. To be fair, though, he learned that expression from me last night when he tried (again) to catch a skunk, and disaster was only narrowly averted.

I'M JUST GONNA GO BE THE HAPPIEST DEADHEAD EVER NOW, KTHNXBYE
gyzym: (Journals)
Happy Saint Patrick's Day, folks! Hope you're all drinking green beer/dancing about completely sober/doing exactly what you feel like doing :D

Pupdate: she still hasn't come back, which, just, augh, trying not to think about it. Per [livejournal.com profile] we_reflamingos's excellent suggestion, I put a call in to the Humane Society to see if they sent someone out to pick her up after all, am waiting to hear back, so we'll see. I'll keep you guys posted, and thanks again for all the help ♥

In other news, here, apropos of exactly nothing, is the poem I am currently working on! Thoughts--what, if anything, worked for you, what didn't--are, as always, appreciated, as this is only in its first or second iteration and will probably be edited 65 times before I actually do anything with it. And, on this topic, because I've gotten this question before: I don't care if you know anything about poetry or not, I'm not asking for, you know, literary theory or anything (though I would, of course, welcome it). Poems, both in terms of reading them and writing them, are about emotional response for me; as far as I'm concerned, if you have ever had an emotion, you are more that qualified to opine on any poem you come across :D

held at ballpoint
swept from my slippery fingers the letters
i could have written you
were sent anyway; the blank pages probably
don't make much sense, smell sticky,
like motor oil and honey,
like small seeking hands.

sorry. if i'd had less shame, more courage, i'd've said
everything, all the words i kept
tucked up amongst the other things we don't touch;
shelves upon shelves of our failings,
bumping together, dripping ink
unnoticed into my hair.

your mailbox is full, now, with pages on pages of
nothing; take them as you will
an overture, perhaps, for years yet to come
a goodbye i never said, or maybe just
for what they are: lines
waiting, hungry, to be filled.
gyzym: (Bowl)
Pupdate. The good news: she let me get close enough to take a picture this morning!!! Apologies for the shitty iPhone photo quality, but I wasn't about to break out a flash camera and scare her away again.



The bad news: that was this morning. I haven't seen her since I got back from work; I don't know if she's just out for a romp or gone for good, but I left some food out and we'll see if she comes back :( If she doesn't, I think I'm probably going to end up adopting a shelter puppy, because this has awakened a desire in me, I don't even. Animals need rescuing, and it's not that I didn't know that--I did! I do!--but I guess I'd just never...I don't know. /ramble

And, because people have been asking for it, a photo of Jerry, complete with the bone I had to give him to make him quit it with the live-action reenactment of this scene from Family Guy. I have no excuse for the shitty quality here, except that I didn't feel like going to get a proper camera and he wouldn't quit moving for anything.



ETA: OH WAIT I HAVE A BETTER PICTURE OF JERRY (kind of) IN MY PHOTOBUCKET, DUH. But it's gigantic, so it's under the cut. )

And now, for those of you who aren't reading this journal for today's edition of OMFG Jizz Loves Puppies!!!, here is a Danny/Steve fanmix. I did this one with like, blurbs and shit, but a) you needn't feel compelled to read them and b) if you're not into Hawaii 5-0, all of these songs are awesome in their own right, and you should feel free to listen/download anyway :D That fic I promised is done and beta'd, I just have to run through and do a final check, it'll be up at some point tonight.

Cut for extensive rambling, lyrics, and my patented inability to shut the fuck up about the goddamn Avett Brothers:

The .zip file name is actually 'I Thought We Were Doing a Thing.' )
gyzym: (Polar bear oh my god)
So, there's a stray dog living in my garage.

I found her this afternoon, though I'm pretty sure she was in there yesterday--I heard noises like something was moving around when I left for work, but assumed it was a raccoon or something. No idea what breed she is, although she looks like she's at least part Weimaraner, and just, augh. I don't think she's more than a few months old, no collar, obviously terrified, and I don't have any idea what to do. I'd like to bring her inside and give her a bath, but I have no way of knowing if she's been given shots or dewormed or anything, and I don't want to get Jerry sick. I'd love to take her to the vet and check for a microchip, get her checked to make sure she's safe to bring in the house, but if I get too close to her she spooks and runs. I've been bringing out food and water for her, left a blanket out there, and she trusts me more now than she did this morning--lets me get closer than she did when I first found her--but I don't want to push her and frighten her more, or push her and end up getting bitten out of fear. I called the Humane Society, but they aren't going to be able to send anyone out today and aren't sure about tomorrow, and anyway the thought of her in a pound makes me feel sick to my stomach. It's not that cold here, for once, and there's plenty of warmth and shelter in the garage, so her, you know, freezing to death overnight isn't a concern. I'm gonna keep checking on her and bringing her food, and I guess we'll see what happens.

If anyone on my flist has any experience with strays and rescue dogs, and can offer any tips, suggestions, pointers, anything, please for the love of god sing out. I'm flying blind here, and I'd hugely appreciate the help.

(Of course, then there's my father, who can always be counted upon to up the ridiculousness quotient of any situation:

My Father: Are you sure it's not a fox?
Me: Am I sure it's not a...yes, I'm sure she's not a fox, why would she be a fox?
My Father: You said she has pointy ears.
Me: Lots of dogs have pointy ears!
My Father: Well, so do foxes.
Me: ...
My Father: I'm just saying!
Me: ...
My Father: This is like that time when I thought the possum was a raccoon, isn't it.

This man is my flesh and blood, folks. No, I don't know either.)
gyzym: (Turtle puppy!)
So, I think I've mentioned before that I have a big black labradoodle named Jerry Garcia. If you did not know that....now you do? In any case, he is the best dog in the history of dogs and I love him more than is strictly reasonably, make no mistake. The things I would do for that animal are staggering; he is the sweetest ever and so adorable and crazy, which is why we get on so well. My family being what they are, if he hadn't been crazy, I would never have known what to do with him.

But. But.

Okay, the thing is, the writer's block question on LJ's main page tonight is "If your pet were a person, what occupation would they choose?" I would have done the thing where I embed it or whatever, but I am Bad At The Internet, and I feel no need to develop the skill of doing this, since I've never wanted to answer one before and probably never will again. I didn't even intend to answer this one, actually, except that I saw it right before I went to take him out, and for whatever reason I turned it over in my mind while we were outside.

Right, I thought to myself, Jerry's likes and dislikes. I immediately discounted the basics, as to my knowledge there is no job in the real world that consists of eating, sleeping, and making comforting whuffing noises every couple of minutes; if I am wrong about that, please inform me and pass the application along. So I started going through the other things Jerry likes to do, and I came to a shocking conclusion.

Jerry likes to overreact. He likes to assume that things which are not threats--passersby, the plow, his own reflection--are in fact the harbingers of doom, come to kill us all. He likes to find things he knows better than to chew on and chew on them anyway; he likes to bark and bark and bark and bark until oh my god, Jer, I get it, for fuck's sake, Jesus Christ. He likes to arbitrarily decide that people he doesn't know--and sometimes people he does know--are in fact TERRIBLE KILLERS WAITING TO MURDER US IN THE NIGHT. The things I say to him most often are (and [livejournal.com profile] angelgazing, who has sat through many a phone conversation with me while I was taking him out, can attest to this) "Jerry, you are a lunatic," and "Oh my god, Jer, seriously, calm down, calm down, what is wrong with you?" He has been known, on occasion, to eat his own shit.

Guys. You guys. I think if my dog was a person, he would be Glenn Beck.

I'm going to try to sleep now, but this knowledge weighs on me. He's looking at me like he knows what's been said here, Livejournal. He's looking at me like he knows.

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