It’s 2018 and a lot of dog owners still don’t use leashes. I see it every day. I know, I don’t get it either. (I’ll give you a moment while you shake your head.)

Since it’s painfully obvious that not everyone shares my leash belief; and general common sense; I decided to turn my frustration into something productive. I’m not one of those talkers; oh no, I’m a doer!

In an effort to inspire the change I wish to see in my community & beyond, I’ve created:

THE SUPER EASY LEASH IMPORTANCE EDUCATION GUIDE!

If you are already totally on board with this leash concept, then congratulations for being among the not dumb; and thank you!

For those that don’t get the leash concept; I hope that the knowledge below will ignite a spark in that tiny light bulb above your head.

Without further ado….

 

THE SUPER EASY LEASH IMPORTANCE EDUCATION GUIDE:

WHY ALL DOGS SHOULD BE ON A LEASH

 

1. Tired of your bitey Bowser nipping after everything that passes by? Yelling not working? Try a leash and keep his bite at bay.

 

2.  Feel in control of your dog’s yipping and yapping with a leash. Not just for walking; it’s a training tool too! Who knew?!

 

3.  Fido like to frolic? With a leash you’ll never lose track of him again! Try new and improved retractable leash so your furbaby can run hither and yonder but never wander.

 

4.  Worried about keeping old Yeller safe from curious critters? Try a leash and make potty time a walk in the park.

 

5.  Lots of traffic? Keep Rover from rolling over with a leash. Now you can enjoy the city lights without the frights.

 

6.  Leashes make vacations safe anywhere! Land or water!

 

7.  Crossing paths with other pooches is no problem with a leash.

 

8.  Fact: Not all dogs are trained. Some, can even attack; oh no! Using a leash can prevent your Chihuahua from becoming a chew toy.

 

9.  Does doggy like to chase kitty up a tree? Keep Kujo on a leash, and make the day carefree.

 

10. Use a leash for all occasions! Remember: If you’re not in your home, don’t let your doggie roam!

 

Follow these simple guidelines & you’ll be well on your way to annoying FAR LESS people.

 

On September 12^th of this year, my beloved furbaby Femi left this world. She was my soul puppy, my furry bestie, my muse, and so much more. She was so sweet and sensitive; a little dog with a huge heart. She was also sassy and hilarious.

If ever a dog was funny, it was Femi. Her personality cracked me up many times. One of a kind. I was so blessed to have been able to call her mine…and I was hers; and we were such a pair, for almost 16 years.

In honor of her memory; below is a collection of all the comics she lent a paw to create. Each comic brings back memories of how pawsitively wonderful she was.

 

Femi was always so helpful.

 

And she always promoted sharing.

 

Even if you weren’t up for sharing; she had a way of changing your mind. The force was strong with her.

 

Femi was a doggie with convictions; especially over her sleeping spot.

 

She had a commanding bark.

 

And was the pack leader.

 

With her alpha mentality, she’d rally the troops to exact her will….

or revenge for being left at home.

 

She was sharp as a whip too. Nothing got past Femi.

 

At times, she was my voice of reason when I needed it most.

 

Femi was admittedly the jealous type; but it came from a place of love.

 

She wasn’t big on dressing up, or Halloween; but she was a good sport about it.

 

Normal doggie activities didn’t quite appeal to her either.

 

Above all, Femi was a lady; and she acted as such.

 

Femi, you were, and will always be, a part of my heart and soul.

Thank you for our time together.

Thank you for the love, laughter, and memories.

Thank you, for you.

 

 

 

 

My furry bestie, my soulpuppy, my furbaby of almost 16 years passed peacefully from this world almost two months ago. My little sweet and sassy Femi. You are gone from my sight; but never from my heart.

It’s been very difficult to muster up the ability to find my funny place; and draw and write again. Femi was a big part of my funny place. She was a tremendous muse for my blog and for my comic “It’s Ruff”. In honor of her; I’ll be making a post of all the comics that she lent a paw to create. Thank you, Femi, for being you; and so much more.

 

In Loving Memory of Femi:

On Wednesday night, September 12^th our dear beloved Femi passed peacefully while surrounded by her family; as we each said our last whispered goodbyes and final tearful kisses. It was her time. Her body was ready to rest and her spirit, ready for the next adventure. She took a piece of our hearts with her as she left this world. She will always be with us.

We named her Femi; which is Nigerian for “Love Me”; so befitting because from the moment her tiny paws patted on my chest and her little pink tongue overwhelmed me with kisses; that’s all she wanted; to love and to be loved. She was such a gentle, compassionate spirit. Love was her natural element.

We love you Femi; more than we could ever express. We are so thankful for the time we had with you; almost 16 years; though eternity still wouldn’t be enough time with such a beautiful soul. All the extra snuggles, kisses, and hugs during your last days we now cherish in our hearts. Your memory and the love you gave; we will carry it on with us and share it as you did.

 

With the tragedy that hit Las Vegas (my home of nearly 18 years) still looming in my mind; it’s been difficult trying to channel humor for my blog. I took a moment off for reflection. It’s hard to be funny when your heart feels heavy.

But laughter is a beautiful piece of the spectrum in our souls; and it can help with the healing of our hearts. So here I am working on my blog again. It has helped me find my smile; and I hope it helps spread happiness in some way.

Continued prayers for our strong and beautiful city. May we all find our smile.
Live. Love. Laugh.

#VegasStrong

All my life I’ve lived with dogs. I am a certified; or, at times certifiable, dog person.

As we’ll gladly tell you, dog owners are a special breed of people. We willingly share our home with an animal descendant of the prehistoric wolf, that has the attention span of a toddler, no concept of personal space; and believes that if they roll in it, lick it, or piss on it ownership has auto transferred to them.

Still, I can’t imagine my world without a canine companion by my side.

They’ve become a part of every aspect of my life; and they’ve taught me a lot about their doggy world as well. Here are a few favorite lessons from my Facebook comic; It’s Ruff.

Sit. Stay. Laugh.

 

First things first, Your bed, is not your bed.

 

 

To drive home that point; they will never feel obligated to move.

 

 

Secondly, your food, is not your food.

 

 

Keep in mind; the force is strong with them.

 

 

They have changed the game on us.

 

 

Also, it’s ok to exploit weakness if it’s for food.

 

 

And while we’re on the subject, it’s important to note; their eating habits are fairly questionable.

 

 

Let’s be clear: Rain is not an option.

 

 

Wet grass is also nonnegotiable.

 

 

Any fear is justifiable. You cannot win on this one.

 

 

When combatted with a loud noise, make noise of equal or greater loudness. This is a common defense mechanism.

 

 

A word of caution: Gifts can backfire.

 

 

Another word of caution: They’re the jealous type.

 

 

A final word of caution: Staying out too late has its consequences.

 

 

Something to point out; Halloween isn’t really their thing.

 

 

Also something to point out: Your actions make no sense to them.

 

 

Make peace with the fact that they are creatures of habit.

 

 

And lastly; they know. They always know.

 

 

Proven fact: A dog can and will drive you crazy at any given moment; without warning or care of timing. They’ll treat your home as their personal running track; and chew whatever fits in their mouth (Sometimes it doesn’t even fit in their mouth. Sometimes they chew holes in walls…yes, walls.)

And your pillow? No, that’s their bed.

They’ll dig up your garden, ruin your carpet, and present a sense of self entitlement regarding any food you’re trying to eat.

They will systematically reconstruct your world to revolve around theirs. And they will succeed.

But then; they’ll give you that puppy dog look you remember gazing upon when the two of you first met (that’s their superpower). Your eyes lock and a smile inevitably and uncontrollably surfaces.

Here comes the overbearing pounce followed by a wet nose & kisses that soak your face; and it’s all over. You love them. And you could never not love them. They win & you’re ok with that.

And they’re so spoiled aren’t they? But deservingly so. Yes they’ve got it good. And we’ve got it ruff.

 

 

 

Adults that are nonparents have no idea what us adults that are parents go through just to adult. Adulting is our privileged escape. It’s rare & hallowed to us. The hoops we jump though in order to make adulting happen are many.

And it doesn’t happen at the drop of a hat. Parents can’t just go adult whenever we feel like it. No. Adulting for a parent takes weeks sometimes months to carve out time. Please keep that in mind when inviting a parent to come out & play.

When a chance to adult is sprung on us; this is typically how the events leading up to the adulting event go down….

It all starts with a call from a nonparent that we haven’t heard from in ages because they’re busy adulting & we’re busy parenting.

 

“HEEEYYY!!! Whatcha up to tonight let’s do dinner ok we should totally hang out! What a week!”

(Translation: I’m bored from working all week & all of my nonparent friends are busy so I’m reaching out to my last option in hopes that you can drop everything last minute just for me.)

 

“Tonight?? Oh…ummm, yeah totally, sounds good. Let me just arrange some things….”

(Translation: Fuck. Seriously? You know I have a 22 month old and share a car with my husband. You’re totally selfish & insensitive for inviting me last minute; & I know 100% I was the last person you called because everyone else is busy….but I really want to adult, so fine I’m in.)

 

Once off the phone our brain gears are thrust into hyperdrive; thus launching us into the dreaded inner monologue.

“We must go. We can’t not. We can make this happen. We hardly ever get to adult. We can’t let any opportunity pass us by. If we decline, we might get labeled as one of those non-adulting parents that always decline because they’re too busy parenting, so nonparents just stop inviting them to adult because they always decline!!

Then we’ll never. Adult. Again….”

 

“No…no we can do this. We must.”

 

Just a quick text to hubby….

And….Bring forth the CHAOS….

 

“OK gotta get little one’s nap in a little early so I can move her dinner earlier so she can eat before I leave for adulting then I can get ready while she sleeps!”

 

“I should probably make lunch first DUH & then get a jump on those dishes & definitely start that laundry I was going to do tonight!”

 

Meanwhile….

“Make sure you make them square.”

 

“Alrighty little one, all done, bed time for you! Heat a bottle, change your diaper, then rock you for an hour and we’re good!”

 

“CLOTHES! MAKEUP! HAIR! Where are my black flats!?!

NO ONE IS HERE TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION!!”

 

Somehow (basically because Moms are awesome that’s how) we manage to pull it off. Everything is in order & little one is sound asleep.

Now the anticipation builds. We’re like a horse at the starting line hoofing & snorting; heart racing at the excitement, maxed adrenaline. We’re at full throttle.

It’s go time baby! Raise the gates! Commence freedom happy dance! Let the adulting BEGIN!

 

Then….the unthinkable happens….

 

 

After much deliberation, I’ve decided that this is the best response:

#truth.

If a nonparent flakes on a parent on adulting night; just know, whether we actually text it to you or not; we think you’re a real twat shitter.

And nobody likes a twat shitter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In no specific order, these are 10 things I hated about being pregnant and I know you will too. I’m not saying these are the overall top 10 things ever, because morning sickness isn’t on there & I know a lot of pregos get morning sickness & I feel for you. It’s just, I never had morning sickness so I can’t very well put it on my hate list.

Though I can imagine it looks something like this….

Imarite?

Nope, never had it. You mad? Don’t hate. I had my share of sh!t that went down; like vertigo & lock jaw. Who the f@ck gets LOCK JAW!? I didn’t even know that was a prego thing!

Good times…. Here are some other good times….

 

Babies Eat Brain:

You get that interruption of mind fog & your eyes become glazed over. The silence mounts; your eyes dart, squinting as your brain tries shifting back into gear. You get blank face then…f@ck it, it’s gone. You have no clue what you were set out to say or do. You can’t even remember if it was a “say” or “do”.

And never mind about where you placed an item. Let it go; you’ll give yourself an aneurism trying to follow that bunny trail.

Make peace with the fact that for the next nine months you will have a slight case of dementia. Babies are like zombies, only they suck out your brain from the inside bless their hearts.

 

Hot in Herre:

“I-am-gettin’-so-hot-Ima-take-my-clothes-off.”

Only it’s nothing like a Nelly music video.

Blast the AC to 50 freakin’ freezin’ degrees; icicles will start to form on your dog’s wet nose but you’re entire body is a blazing inferno of hell fire & on top of it; it’s really pissing you off because all you want is to cool down….well not today friend; or for the next nine months for that matter.

You’re body has an internal heater turning you into the cause of the melting polar ice caps. You are the reason polar bears are drowning. Like asphalt at high noon on a lonely desert road, you can see those heat waves radiating from your body. Ring out your shirt & you’ll probably fill up a gallon jug.

Oh btw, I’m not talking about being prego in the Summer. This is what it’s like in the dead of Winter baby. If you’re prego in the Summer months (like I was); God help you.

 

Pissing is Your New Pastime:

“I have to pee; but I just went!”

That will be you’re broken record; followed by your mantra of

“Come on bladder, just hold it for a bit longer!”

Word to the wise, don’t hold it; because if your prego body wants to pee, it’s gonna pee. It is operating without an owner. You have no control; and that sweet little baby in your belly has decided that your bladder is now a trampoline.

Carry an extra pair of undies or tinkle pads with you at all times. Your bladder is volatile. Like a drunk Irish chick, the slightest thing will set it off. You cough or sneeze; it’s all over.

 

Stop Touching Me:

Without warning, they come at you outta nowhere…in swarms; all with the same primary objective…Must. Rub. Baby Belly. Suddenly your invisible bubble of comfort is popped because people, total strangers even, think it’s perfectly acceptable to touch your belly.

“Back up, you are not a preacher & this isn’t a revival. Do not lay your hands on me.”

Your personal space becomes public space. You’ll be standing in line, walking in the park, or waiting for a table, doesn’t matter where; someone will approach you & say:

“Oh my, congratulations, how many months are you, how precious, bless your heart, is it a boy or girl, you look like it’s a girl, have you picked out a name, you must be so happy!”

Then they’ll take their grubby paws & place them on your belly & proceed to pat & rub it.

“Seriously? Uh-uh, I am not Buddha & you will not have good luck if you continue touching me. Step off Granny.”

 

Release the Kraken:

Unpredictable & unstoppable; always lying just below the surface; circling as it waits for its prey…the Prego Monster.

Anything can set it off. It viciously strikes without warning or remorse; and it’s deadly. The victim, defenseless and verbally mauled, is left to limp away slowly and silently least they provoke it further. Never make eye contact with the Prego Monster if you value your life.

It lurks in all of us. You’ll be fine then someone blinks one too many times & this rush of savage anger washes over you like a category 6. You’re she-hulk on steroids and it’s time to RAAAGE. The earth is scorched in your wake; the people, ravaged. There is no “safe place”.

However, as quickly as the Prego Monster appears, it disappears; fading away back into the depths….for now.

 

Dancing in the Sheets:

It’s 2am, you want to sleep; but your baby wants to DANCE! Cue the nightly baby raves! ~Nn-chi, nn-chi, nn-chi, nn-chi~

You’ve spent a long day adulting while creating life. Yesterday was a liver; today it’s a spleen. You need your freakin’ rest. The less rest, the greater the chance of the Prego Monster appearing. It’s not only for your own good & the babies; it’s for all of mankind.

You lay down, exhausted. After an hour, you find a comfortable position; then, it starts. Your baby is bouncing around like they’re in a mosh pit. STAGE DIVE onto your bladder. NAILED IT!

You feel like you’re outside of a club. Your stomach looks like the disc on a woofer with the bass turned to 11; and the beat goes on until your little EDC cutie crashes at 6am.

They don’t care, they don’t have work the next day. They don’t have a kidney or lung to manufacture. But you do. Have fun with that.

 

Big Foot is Real:

Your feet will swell to a gargantuan; mammoth size; and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. None of your shoes will fit. Hell none of your sandals will fit. Barefoot & pregnant is about to get real.

Cankles. Holy sh!t will you have cankles. From the knees down it’s just one massive club resembling what used to be your leg & foot.

That’s ok because they’ll match your fingers, which resemble balloon animals made by a drunken clown. “Here’s your poodle *hick*.”

“My clothes don’t fit; at least let me have cute shoes to wear. At least give me that.”

“I really don’t think so Sue.”

*sigh* Unanswered prayers….

Nope. For nine months you get to experience what an elephant must feel like traipsing around the jungle; only less graceful.

 

Emotion Roulette:

We as humans can experience a full spectrum of emotions. We as pregnant women can experience a full spectrum of emotions at the flip of a switch.

Feelings dart out like cards in a game of 52 pickup. Like spinning a wheel; you never know what you’re gonna land on. It might be an endearing hug. It might be a land mine.

You’ll look at someone with such loving eyes; then a second later you’ll tear them a new one. Immediately following, you’ll cry because that was terrible of you to lash out at them like that; however you’ll quickly realize that they deserved it after all, so you’ll have a good laugh about it with yourself over ice cream & steak.

“Sorry not sorry” originated from pregnant women.

 

Sleep Support:

What’s your sleep number? When you’re prego, it’s roughly 9; pillows that is. There are usually 4 other items needed as well; so that makes 13 support pieces to the puzzle you have to put together in order to transform your bed into a place of hope.

When combined, these will give you the optimal environment for prego sleep. Not that you’ll actual get any sleep, come on; but it’s nice to have a dream right?

Gearing up for bed, placing all of your support pegs, becomes such a production. Punching the pillows, wiggling into position, leg lifts, shoulder shrugs, shimmies, & shifts…yelling at your husband:

“Move that pillow, no THAT pillow! Why can’t you read my mind!”

Now the stage is set. All that’s left is to relax & close your eyes. Cue baby rave. And go.

 

Are We There Yet?:

Towards the end of the third trimester, the waiting can become unnerving. Like a child in the backseat of a car anticipating Wally World; it can’t come sooner.

You know your due date; but that means sh!t. It’s a guestimation, nothing more. You want it to be over. You did your time now it’s time to get out!

You’re swollen, uncomfortable, cramping, irritable (more than usual), & exhausted. You feel like a bloated pig that just ate a bloated big & you have a bad case of the meat sweats. Nothing helps.

You just want to squeeze your belly like a fat tick or a bulbous pimple. Pop it & be done with it. But no, you have to wait. For how long? Who knows. Best game ever.

 

There are many more things to hate on when you’re pregnant, like heart burn, always being tired, & skin tags (yeah, that’s a real thing).

No doubt, being pregnant can be an overall pain in the ass (literally), but it does have its sweet moments; like feeling your baby kick for the first time, experiencing those little baby hiccups, or seeing your baby on the ultrasound screen just squirming & bouncing away, knowing life is being created right inside of you. It’s a miracle!

At the end of it all, you get to hold your baby in your arms & your little one will smile at you & squeeze your finger; & it makes up for all the sucky prego things that happened & so much more.

It really is worth it…but make no mistake…it still sucks. Have fun. 😊

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boring report?

Not anymore!

Ruined shirt?

Nope glitter art.

Scary psycho cat?

Silly glitter kitty

Internet?

You mean GLITTERNET.

 

SEE? What’d I say? Better right? That’s my belief anyway….

Growing up, I had an extraordinary love for all things glitter.

When I say “love”, I really mean “obsession”, & when I say “had”…

I’m lying. (Glitter is my homeboy.)

I still love all things glitter. It’s just now as a grown up, I’ve learned to keep it in check…almost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like I said; almost. But I do keep tabs on my glitter use…I have to; otherwise it tends to get a little outta hand.

I don’t know how I came to be so…“enthusiastic” over glitter. There’s no moment I can pin point & go there, right there that’s when I started this obsession. I think I was just born with it; instinctually, like moths to a flame; only glitter.

The attraction was simple. Everything seemed prettier, happier with glitter.

You could show me a smiley face sticker:

And a smiley face sticker with glitter:

And no thought needed I’d auto pounce for the one with the glitter.

I’d go ape sh!t for anything shiny, sparkly, or glittery.

I use the term “ape sh!t” because the Urban Dictionary (and we all know how undeniably accurate it has proven itself to be time & time again) defines it as:

“an undignified loss of control”…

 

Yep, that sounds about right.

But, can you really blame me?

Glitter is honest. It doesn’t have a fancy hip name like “Connor”; it’s glitter. Plain & simple, and amazing!

And it makes everyone smile. Maybe not always on the outside, but most certainly on the inside.

Ever seen something glittery & thought,

Yea didn’t think so.

Glitter is pretty awesome & I immensely enjoyed partaking in it. A lot. Ok, A LOT, a lot.

I earned the nickname Glitter Girl. Best. Nickname. Ever. And I was having the best time ever with all things glitter.

As the years passed, somewhere along the line; I lost touch with, let’s call it “portion control”.

 

 

 

 

 

And it only got worse from there….

My brain now associated all things positive with all things glitter. I unknowingly operantly conditioned myself. The connection between the two solidified in my synapses, like a viral program that could not be stopped. It was hardwired.

I floored it past the Point-of-No-Return; free falling in a sparkling spiral.

(OH that sounds pretty! ..Stop it.)

 

As pretty as that does sound…It began effecting my life & those around me.

At first it was harmless…cheeky…almost justifiable…

 

 

Over time, left untreated, my condition got a bit worse…more desperate…especially if my fix was scarce…

 

Towards the end…it just got plain ugly…

 

 

 

 

It was then I realized I may have a slight problem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I really loved Easter as a child & always had a pretty hoppy eggsperience. Still, there are a few tips I gathered through my childhood years that would’ve been very bunnyficial to know from the get go. If I could go back, this is the Easter wisdom I’d impart on my kid-self.

1. Dogs like Easter egg hunts too. (To you, you’re hiding eggs to find later. To a dog, you’ve just willingly abandoned food.)

 

2. A colored egg does not necessarily mean it’s a cooked egg.

 

3. A black jelly bean is not blackberry flavored. It is crap flavored. Do not accept them in trade.

 

4. Marshmallow peeps are not peeps and are not marshmallow. They look like yellow sugar turds & make great door stops.

 

5. Candy is a very tempting commodity:
a. If you have siblings, watch your basket.

b. If you have dogs, watch your basket.

c. If you have parents, watch your basket.

d. Always watch your basket.

 

6. If you’re having trouble finding eggs, look for the kid that’s making a bee line, and just be faster than that kid. I’m not saying it’s ethical; I’m just saying, it works.

 

7. When attempting to remove from the basket, Easter grass can magically multiply like bunnies.

 

 

 
8. Biting the ears off of a chocolate bunny is very satisfying; especially if the chocolate bunny belongs to someone else.

 

9. If you get any Russell Stover eggs that have the word “maple” on the label; throw them out, they taste like wood.

 
10. And the most important bit of information I can share with you: Mall Easter Bunnies are creepy.