I Like

I like holding a hot cup of tea when my hands are cold.

I like to change the words to songs so that they include my dog's names.

I like to walk into my favorite coffee shop and ask the barista to make me his or her favorite drink.

I like to lie under 3 blankets instead of turning on the heat.

I like watching movies on my dad's couch.

I like to reread my favorite book series, in order, over and over.

I like hot chocolate from gas stations or football games.

I like to paint my nails with clear nail polish, just so I can pick it off.

I like to listen to sad music, even when I'm depressed, and even when I know that the sad music is making me more depressed.

I like Australian accents.

I like to think that dogs have accents. (Australian and other.)

I like to write in coffee shops, and not at home.

I like superfine tip pens.

I like dangly earrings.

I like soup with rice noodles.

I like tea with steamed milk and sweetener.

I like to have the TV on when I'm at home alone, even if I'm not watching it, because the noise and movement makes me feel more comfortable.

I like new wallets.

I like clicking the next button on my e-reader.

I like cake on a stick more than cake that's not.

I like when dogs wiggle or wag their tails so hard that they look like they might fall over.

I like when little kids giggle at stupid things.

(The last time I babysat, the kids laughed for 20 minutes when I said my shoes smelled bad.)

I like really long pants.

I like to eat the inside of breakfast burritos, but leave the tortilla.

I like flowers in bright colors.

I like wearing scarves indoors.

I like rain.

I like sleeping on the couch.

I like to watch reruns of sitcoms that I've seen 35 times.

I like pouring milk on chocolate ice cream.

I like this:

I like ordering Indian food at my mom's house.

I like vintage (or vintage looking) jewelry.

I like day planners and school supplies.

I like lying on the couch when I'm sick.

I like pomegranates, even though they stain my fingers when I eat them.

I like slipper booties.

I like women who write and sing music that's so amazing it makes my body hurt.

(There are oh so many.)

I like waking up on Christmas morning.

I like making chili when there are clouds in the sky.

I like the feeling when all of my clothes are put away from the dryer.

I like wearing sunglasses on cloudy days.

I like dancing with boys who wear glasses.

Sometimes it's nice to write what you like.

So what do you like?

Fight or Flight

A few weeks ago Mike and I had to go downtown at 2 in the morning to help a friend with a flat tire.

(Because we're the best friends ever.)

We decided to take the dogs with us because we're also the best parents ever.

So while Mike was helping with the tire, I took the dogs out of the car so that they could roll around in the grass because rolling in the grass is apparently the best activity ever when you're a dog.

At one point I looked up and saw a deer running down the sidewalk. It was majestic and beautiful and then it turned and started to run (gallop?) right at me.

The deer was at least 6 feet tall and had fangs and foam coming from it's mouth.

(Mike tells me it was cute and little and possibly even a baby but I'm thinking he's just blocked the horrible image from his mind.)

The smart, reasonable part of my brain knew that this deer was way more scared of me and my two barking dogs than I was of it.

The other part of my brain, the part that thinks cute cuddly kittens are going to rip my throat out, was screaming THIS IS HOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, ALLY.

(I think I should point out that I had just seen this presentation at Ignite Boulder. Check out the whole video, but particularly the part at 2:08.)

(Thanks a lot, Josh.)

So I screamed. And Bonnie barked. And Hannah LUNGED FOR THE GOD DAMN DEER because she's cute but not exactly the smartest canine. And the deer stopped and stared because apparently that whole "deer in headlights" thing also applies to "deer being barked at while girl screams profanities".

So there I was, at 2 AM, trying to drag 100-plus pounds of dog away from Bambi on Steroids, screaming something eloquent like "HOLY-FUCKING-SHIT-MIKE-GET-IT-GET-IT-GET-IT."

He just stood there, yelled at me to run, and then laughed his ass off.

Really, Mike? If I have to get the spiders out of our house because you're busy hiding in the other room, then I think it's only fair that you take a more active role when I'm being run down by a predator.

Is that too much to ask?

(PS: I just Googled "are deer predators?" and all that came up were articles about the predators OF deer which totally isn't what I asked, Google. Apparently deer are pretty much at the bottom of the food chain and they just eat a whole lot of grass, BUT some deer consume meat when it's available. So really? I feel confident in saying that Bonnie, Hannah and I could have been eaten that night.)

(PPS: Mike tried to tell me that there are so many "deaths caused by deer" because of traffic accidents that happen when deer are in the road. Yeah, nice try buddy. You're just trying to explain why you didn't rescue us. I'd like to see how many of those deaths were caused because the victim was MAULED and then EATEN.)

(PPPS: OHMIGOD, don't Google "how many people are mauled by deer?".)

(PPPPS: And the results from searching "how many people are eaten by deer?" are really disappointing.)

Sq-worm

The other day I spent some time pulling weeds. It had been raining, so it was easy to get the little buggers out of the ground. But with the soft, wet ground, came gross, slimy worms.

I just don't like them. They're all creepy and crawly and they come out of nowhere. Like when I pulled a large clump of dandelions from the ground and a herd? gaggle? pod? family? of worms came pouring out of the dirt. There were billions bunches 5 of them, and I was not pleased.

So I ran to the door and calmly asked Mike how he felt about worms, because I care about his emotions and all. He informed me that he didn't like them, which really fucked up my plan to pretend to care about his emotions when really I just wanted him to come outside and pull the weeds from the worm infested area. So I told him there were millions of worms crawling out of the ground and I needed his help and he asked what I needed help with and I said picking the weeds from the danger zone... and helping to save the worms.

Mike: Wait... save them from what?

Me: The concrete. They're all displaced in the sun and they're all going to burn up and die so get out here and help me save them.

Mike: But you don't like them!

Me: True, but I'M NOT A MONSTER!!! I may not be fond of them but I respect their purpose on this planet, and I don't want to be responsible for a worm massacre. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?

Mike: So let me get this straight: You want me to go outside and re-bury them?

Me: Well, just get them back onto the grass and they can... burrow?

Mike: Yeah, no.

Me: Miiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkeeeeee.

*Mike put his headphones on which I'm pretty sure means he wants to listen to music while talking to me, which is sort of rude but also kind of understandable, so I screamed.*

Me: MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEE. YOU DON'T WANT THIS ON YOUR CONSCIENCE!!

*Shockingly, that didn't work.*

So I did what needed to be done and got a stick and proceeded to pick up the squiggly bastards with the end of the stick and placed them in some dirt and covered them up so the sun wouldn't dry their slimy little bodies out because I'm a wonderful person.

And I've made my peace with the cluster of weeds sitting in that part of the yard.

It's decorative.

Just a Couch (?)

Our assignment from the Inspiration Workshop at BlissDom:

"In her amazing book, What It Is! writer/artist Lynda Barry shares (among other flashes of genius!) a simple exercise she learned from her college professor and mentor Marilyn Frasca. It's one I use all the time to get my mind in gear.

Here's how it goes: With pen and paper, make a list of ten couches you've known in your lifetime. (This also works with other words, but couches are my favorite because they are central to many moments in your memory.)

When you've made your list, take a deep relaxing breath and find the couch that has the most powerful emotional charge for you. Then begin writing about it...

Keep writing for three minutes until you've reached the end of the vignette. Keep the pen moving. Three minutes will seem like a long time. But don't stop. If you run out of words, doodle a little till they come again.

Don't edit! Keep the memory and emotion there in all its raw glory!"

****

There's really only one couch to write about.

One couch that matters.

That represents an entire chapter of my life.

It was covered in duct tape and chewed on by puppies.

It was sticky and gross and falling apart.

It was over my head and everywhere.

It was dirty.

It was a conversation piece.

It was important because it was ours. And it was sad when it was (finally) gone.

It was our

badge of honor.

It proclaimed to all the world that we were poor, sad college students getting useless degrees and we had this shitty couch to prove it, god damn it.

****

I wrote that down in three minutes.

(I don't write very fast, so it's not very long. Also? Three minutes isn't that much time.)

When I came to post it I edited certain things (even though the rules say not to) because I could make them sound better here (and because I'm a hard core bad ass who doesn't listen to rules)

.... then I went back and took the edits out, and wrote what I wrote on paper with pen.

Word for word.

(It was really hard to do.)


****

When they first told us about this assignment I laughed to myself.

The first post I ever wrote was about that same stupid couch.

Come play this game yourself here, or on your own, and let me know if you do...

So Not Pretty... *At All*

When I brush my teeth, I get toothpaste everywhere.

I don't know why. I don't know how.

Somehow, toothpaste gets on the mirror, on my shirt, around the sink...

e-v-e-r-y-where.

And now it's even worse because my dentist insisted that I get an electric toothbrush, (you know, because apparently I am incapable of thoroughly cleaning my teeth the old fashioned way?) which means that the toothpaste is churned to the point of full on toothpaste froth.

When I brush my teeth, it looks like I'm a rabid dog.

It's not cute.

Mike isn't allowed to watch me as I brush my teeth because he just laughs and points.

Laughs and points.

Which makes me laugh, which means even more toothpaste ends up covering the bathroom walls and floor and ceiling.

He's also not allowed to watch me wash my face.

Because when I wash my face, water also gets

e-v-e-r-y-where.

The counter, my shirt (again), the floor...

And Mike says things like, "Ally, I know you're a smart person, but you do not look like it right now."

But this all works just fine because I just wash my face AFTER I brush my teeth, then the water just washes all of the toothpaste froth off of everything.

(Who's not smart, now, Michael?)

Except the mirror.

I have no idea how I get toothpaste on the mirror...

(PS: I'm trying out a new commenting system that's dynamic and shit (that's the technical term). All you need is a name and email, or you can sign up for a Disqus profile (so I can see your pretty little face next to your note) here, so please say "hi" to Bonnie and Hannah, because they don't think anyone cares about them.)

(PPS: That's a lie. Bonnie and Hannah don't even read this blog.)

(PPPS: Bitches.)

Romance-y

I've never been fond of Valentine's Day.

The pressure (the pressure!) to be romantic, in love, nice, just sets couples up for disaster.

(Meaning, I usually overreact about something which ruins everything.)

(I take full responsibility.)

It never turns out like it's supposed to.

(The same goes for anniversaries and birthdays or any other "special occasion".)

Inevitably, someone will say something that causes their other half to role his or her eyes, to grit his or her teeth in frustration, to scream something regrettable.

The dishes will sit dirty. The trash won't be taken out. Something will go wrong.

Something starts the fight.

(And no, it's not because of PMS.)

(At least not completely.)

This year we made plans to go to dinner and then dancing Saturday night, and then for a massage on Sunday.

Lofty plans for someone who doesn't like Valentine's Day.

But, alas, I got sick, so Saturday was spent watching a crappy movie and ordering Chinese food, the nasal spray never far away.

(By the way, can you overdose on nasal spray?)

(I refuse to Google it because I know it's going to say "yes, you can overdose on nasal spray AND you're going to die".)

And the massage was postponed because nothing is less relaxing than dripping snot everywhere while lying naked and face-down on a massage table.

But with all of the canceled plans went all of the pressure. We just had a weekend together.

We saw the perfect romantic movie for Valentine's Day: Sherlock Holmes.

(The sexual tension between Jude Law and Robert Downey, Jr. was palpable.)

(There better be a make out session in the sequel.)

To be "valentines-y" we brought a heart-shaped box of chocolates into the movie theater.

(Eating a box of chocolates in a dark theater forces you to eat what you get rather than scouring that little chocolate treasure map under the lid that tells you exactly where the caramels are and how to avoid that weird coconut creme crap. This can either be exciting or stressful, depending on your various neuroses... and food allergies.)

(Also? If you bring a box of chocolates into a dark and quiet theater, maybe open it in the car beforehand because the amount of wrapping and ripping and noise involved in getting to said caramels and weird coconut creme crap is just astounding.)

(Especially since you're trying to be all covert and shit about smuggling Valentine's Day themed candy into the theater.)

Finally, we went to a crowded coffee shop where we drank tea and did the most romantic thing ever:

Mike taught me math.

(It was hot.)

And nobody fought over the dishes or the trash.

And it was good...

(AND I know how to do logarithms.)

(SCORE.)

What did you do? What didn't you do?
Do you know what log10 of 10 is?
Because I totally do.

Best of 09: Laugh

December 29th: Laugh. What was your biggest belly laugh of the year?

If you haven't already figured it out, my entire family is completely insane. Earlier this year my grandma said, "This family is not dysfunctional, we're funny."

I'm very lucky because I'm surrounded by hilarious people. We're so completely insane that we laugh all the time. It's the way we are.

(I've actually had people say that they would buy tickets just to observe our Thanksgiving dinner...)

My friends constantly make me smile and fall over with laughter.

My relationship with Mike is built on total hilarity... we make each other laugh every single day. (I truly believe that it's the number one reason we've been together for nearly 8 years (so far).)

Even my dogs have a sense of humor (when I'm having a bad day, I swear they do shit just to make me smile).

Some people think that I have a cynical, dark, sense of humor, but I don't see it that way. I think laughing at the twisted, disturbing stuff makes living easier, better, and fun. I've learned that you have to laugh at the dark stuff because it's the only way to get through it all.

Some of the funniest people that I've met have lived through unimaginable tragedy - the loss of a child, horrible disease, terrible accidents - but they keep laughing and they keep making other people laugh.

Laughter makes you happy to be alive, it makes it easier to get up in the morning, it allows you to cope when something bad happens.

It's survival.

It's the only way to live.

PS: You know what's really funny? This post is about the biggest laugh of my year and it's turned out to be a ridiculously serious commentary...

PPS: Shit... I feel bad about that. Here:

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

You're welcome.

Best of 09: Web Tool

December 23rd: Web tool. It came into your work flow this year and now you couldn't live without it. It has simplified or improved your online experience.

I've already told you about my love for Lijit here.

Another great online tool is Hootsuite. It allows you to schedule tweets, which is really helpful when you manage a corporate Twitter account, or have a post scheduled to go live over the holidays and want to send out a message when it's published... hypothetically...

Finally, I LOVE Picnik. This is the site that I use to take my pictures from "okay" and "normal" to OH EM GEE THAT IS AWESOME, like this one:

(Was the snow effect too much? Or just awesome enough?)
(I'm going with just the right amount of awesome...)

Plus, I got to hang out with some of the beautiful ladies that work there at BlogHer this year, and they were some of the greatest girls I've ever met (which always helps).

Best of 09: Tea

Still going strong on the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge.

(Crazy, I know.)

December 16th: Tea of the Year. I can taste my favorite tea right now. What's yours?

This question makes me laugh because I remember reading Gwen's tweets and blog post when she decided to give up coffee a few months ago.

I don't like regular coffee, and if I'm having espresso, it's mixed with a whole lot of chocolate and other flavored syrup. But, since I prefer to eat my calories rather than drink them, I tend to stick with tea.

(And hot chocolate... I love me some hot chocolate.)

When I lived in Australia I became a very big tea drinker. I had English Breakfast tea everyday, multiple times a day. I'd go out to coffee shops or restaurants and sit with a pot of tea and read a book.

After my English Breakfast tea bender, if you will, I came home and sort of lost my desire. I still love tea, and drink it on a regular basis, but I don't have it nearly as much as I did in Sydney.

I like the act of drinking tea. Waiting for it to steep (well... I can only wait a couple of minutes before I just go for it... so maybe I don't really like that part), adding just the right amount of milk and sugar, sipping it sip by sip.

(The "sip by sip" thing drives Mike crazy. I'm sorry, Mike, but tea is meant to be sipped, not gulped.)

This year, I found a great spice tea from Celestial Seasonings: Bengal Spice. It's got cinnamon, ginger and cloves, and it tastes a lot like a chai. I like mine with a little bit of milk and sweetener, or made into a cambric (a tea latte).

I also really like chocolate mate... because it's chocolate flavored tea.

(Enough said.)

Best of 09: Best Change to My Home

December 13th: What's the best change you made to place you live.

A few months ago I got a call from Mike on his way to work. He was biking near Family Housing by campus, and he saw a bunch of stuff out back with a big sign that said "free".

Among the old TV sets, used strollers, and beat up snowboards was a big drafting table.

I had been wanting my own desk for awhile. Mike has his own work space, and I usually just moved my computer from the kitchen to the living room and kept all of my shit important documents and prized possessions scattered throughout the house.

I met Mike over there when he got off and saw the table. It was huge and white, the paint was cracking on the surface, and there was the faint outline of a big cartoon man with an afro smoking a gigantic blunt.

It was perfect (?).

We (Mike) hauled it to the car and took it to his parents house. Mike spent over an hour making the surface smooth with an electric sander. We then got some pretty blue contact paper with flowers all over it.

(It's not as eccentric as the humongous weed smoker, but I've made my peace with that.)

It's great to have my own space to blog and read and keep my stuff.

This also led to another change to our house: in order to fit my awesome pretty blue table in the house, we had to get rid of the last remaining piece of the famous "duct-tape couch".

So, this change is somewhat bittersweet.

(For Mike. Apparently he had a deeper attachment to the couch than I thought.)

(Me? Not so much.)

Also, I finished my Christmas decorations:

(I added the Torah after the fact... because it's Chanukah. Also, I couldn't get my hands on a real one.)

(I wrapped those presents in pages from a giant coloring book. So, after my family and friends open their presents, they can have some craft time. It's like two gifts in one. I am generous.)

It Must be the Shoes...

(I don't know why I'm still writing about Lady Gaga... apparently my life now revolves around the woman...)

Lady Gaga |MTV Music

Me: I have been working all day to learn the dance from the "Bad Romance" video, and I just can't do it!! You know, the dance she does during the chorus? In 5 inch heals? Maybe that's my problem: flat feet.

Mike: I'm so sorry.

Me: I know, right? I wouldn't think that it would be so hard, but I guess I'm just not cut out to be a Lady Gaga dancer...

Mike: Ally, stop it. You can be anything you want to be. You are amazing. Keep at it, and your dreams will come true.

Me: That's quite possibly the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

Mike: Well, I mean it. And once you learn the dance... you can teach it to me.

So THIS is a goal that he's behind 100 percent, but the whole Mariska Hargitay (MARISKA HARGITAY!!!) crime fighting turtle thing was just too "out there".

Sometimes, I just don't understand him.

Love Letter

Dear Mike,

Thanks for not laughing or rolling your eyes when I called you as you were leaving work to ask if you would get me some frozen yogurt on your way home.

And thanks for thinking that it was totally normal that I wanted Cap'n Crunch as my topping.

And thanks for watching Michael Jackson videos with me and then listening to me ramble about how he was a freakin' genius and how he essentially changed pop culture as we know it.

And thanks for making me spit out my water when you said that you were named after him.

And thanks for checking the backyard to find out what that scary noise was. Some people might have thought you looked silly with your head through the dog door to see if our neighbors were murdering someone, but I felt very safe looking at your torso stuck half inside/half outside the house.

Loves,

Ally B

Nicknames

The following conversation occurred completely randomly:

Mike: What do you think would be a good nickname for me?

Me: Thunder.

Mike: No... I'm thinking something cooler... like "Pickles".

Me: How is THAT cooler than "Thunder"?

Mike: Or another vegetable... like "Onion" or "Shallot".

Me: Nope... you're "Pickles", Pickles.

Mike: No, I changed my mind.

Me: Now, Pickles, I tried to give you a cool name like "Thunder" -

Mike: But I'm trying to find a serious name...

Me: So you picked "Pickles"?

Mike: It sounded better in my head.

Me: Fine, Pickles.

Mike: Stop calling me that.

I continued to call him Pickles and he almost left me... so yeah... don't try it on him... Pickles be pissed.

Fit or Fail: Squats are not for Sissies Edition

Mike decided that he would try the same strength moves as me.

The moves that caused me to waddle around like a broken down duck for a week straight.

When we did the squats, push-ups, and other death moves, Mike said that he was surprised that it was so difficult, but he seemed to do okay.

But soon...

HE was the one with the waddle.

HE was the one who almost threw up his protein shake.

HE was the one who whimpered every time he bent down to fill up the dog's water bowl.

(Though he did get over it much faster than me... and honestly, he didn't bitch NEARLY as much... and then he went and climbed a mountain...but still...)

And even though I would NEVER wish that pain on the man I love... it still felt kinda awesome.

In other news, I've continued the same workout program as last week and I'm getting better. I'm still sore, but not immobile. I'm sure it will get worse once I add weight and different moves, but for now I'm happy I can get into my car without weeping.

The Winner!

I know, I know.

I took a long time to do this, but that's because I needed to get my hands on (my mother's) camera so that I could do a video blog documenting picking the winner of my first blog contest!

Below you'll find four videos of us picking a winner...

That's right.

FOUR.

For some reason, I kept pushing the "stop" button... it was instinct! And, therefore, the videos are all separate.

And some of them are only 11 seconds long...

I don't know why I kept doing that.

And I didn't realize I sounded like that.

And I know that my filming is shaky... so shut up.

(You're probably wondering why I just didn't re-shoot everything... but the process was already IN MOTION... FATE was already working... and I'm not messing with FATE... it wouldn't have been fair to the winner.)

You might as well just watch them...

Blog Contest Part I from Ally Carrillo on Vimeo.

This is where I realize that I've started a new video...

Blog Contest Part II from Ally Carrillo on Vimeo.

Classy, huh?

Blog Contest Part III from Ally Carrillo on Vimeo.

(I just realized that I sort of snapped "Michael grab her"... I'm sorry, Mike... you were a fabulous (and beautiful) assistant... being a director/camera woman is stressful...)

And, finally, a winner is announced!

Blog Post Part IV from Ally Carrillo on Vimeo.

So congratulations to Mark! I think that Hannah picked it on purpose, because Mark is one of her favorite people... and Bonnie has a major crush on him, so she probably rigged it...

Sorry about that.

You can see Mark's photoblog here.

(OH! Are you in Colorado? Are you getting married? Do you want an amazing photographer? Mark (and his partner in crime, the majestic Scott) are your best bet! Seriously... they're awesome...)

Thanks to all of you for participating. It means so much to me that you took the time to comment, to officially follow, and to just READ what I have to say.

If I could, I would give all of you a gift certificate to Amazon.

(Except not really... If I had that money, I'd put it towards a much needed iPhone...)

(But it's the thought that counts...)

Oh, and Mark, I forgot... there's one little "catch" to this little game...

You have to use the ten bucks to buy me a present...

Or buy me an iPhone...

Did I forget to mention that?

Bandits (Now with Bad Haircuts)

Our dogs are mutants.

Freaks of nature.

Apparently capable of things that we didn't think canine-ly possible.

We left the dogs alone for eight hours last weekend and I totally expected to find certain items out of place.

It's common enough to find a blanket outside or a coat lying on the floor when we leave the dogs by themselves for an extended period of time.

I get it. They're pissed.

But we did NOT expect to come home and find the doors wide open to both bedrooms.

Nor did we expect to find the dog beds shoved under our bed, clothes from the third shelf of the closet shoved under my hamper, or my slippers wedged between the wall and the dresser.

We also didn't expect to find a Costco pack of toilet paper torn open and all of the rolls thrown under the desk in our guest room. Or the rug in that room pushed into a corner, even though it had 45 pounds worth of weights on it.

No... all of this was a complete shock.

(So much so that Mike worried that we had been robbed. I pointed out that all of our possessions were still there, and that I doubt there's a criminal on the loose re-arranging dog furniture.)

But even MORE shocking. Coming home the next night (after far less time alone) to the door to the bedroom open, even though there was a TERRIFYING vacuum cleaner in front of it.

Or coming home last night to the door open (and dog beds rearranged) even after we left an elaborate blockade which included one hamper, an ottoman, a mop, and a broom...

So I can't help but picture that scene in Jurassic Park when the woman's like, "The raptors can't get out, unless they learned how to open doors" - and then it jumps to the raptor OPENING THE FUCKING DOOR!!

(I hid behind the couch the first time I ever saw that scene and I still fight the urge to do so again.)

So, yeah. Our dogs are EVOLVING.

(Since they don't destroy anything while they're in the bedroom, we've just decided to just leave the damn door open when we leave. They OBVIOUSLY have something very important to do in that room, so we might as well try and save the door (which now has a fair amount of the paint scratched off... apparently getting the door open takes a few swipes first...).)

PS: To punish them we gave them haircuts.

PPS: It wasn't punishment, it was just their summer hair cutting time.

PPPS: But it might as well have been punishment because we are not groomers and our dogs now look like: A) They have mange, B) We let them groom each other, or C) They've had a run-in with a weed-whacker. I told them that even when the other neighborhood dogs laugh and point they should hold their little bald heads high.

PPPPS: You have less than twenty hours to enter the contest for a gift certificate to Amazon.com. So you better get on that...

A Lawn Story

Yard work has never really been my forte.

When I was younger my dad told me to mow the lawn on the rider mower. I tried to tell him that this was a bad idea but he insisted that I was being over dramatic so I had to do it anyway.

It was terrifying but I did it and I even managed to make all of these pretty zigzag patterns in the grass.

(Driving one of those things in a straight line is HARD, y'all.)

Dad was not pleased and that was the last time that I was asked to use the rider mower.

(Not that I'm complaining. Being 15 and having one less chore is pretty much awesome.)

Now I have my own lawn to mow. And today was the first day this season that I did it.

Because of all of the rainy weather we've had over the past month our lawn was in desperate need of a shave.

The last thing Mike told me before he left for work was to not mow over the hose.

So I was a good yard worker and I went to move the hose before I forgot. But the hose was all covered in leaves and I was CONVINCED that there was a snake living in there. I got this vision of me reaching down for the hose and accidentally grabbing a snake and it freaked me out... so there's a patch around the hose of really long grass...

And then I ran over a ladybug. It was like slow motion where I was moving the lawn mower and I saw the ladybug RIGHT as I gave a big push and I was like "NOOOOOoooooooo" and I moved the mower and couldn't find the poor thing... I want to say that it flew away or burrowed into the ground, but I'm pretty sure that I'm actually a murderer and I just have to live with that.

Later I saw another ladybug flying and I was like "OH SHIT... what if that's the dead (murdered) ladybug's significant other... or a relative... or what if they were best friends who had a pact that if neither one of them had mated by the time they were 2 weeks old they'd give it a go together..."

So then I just felt depressed.

I'm pretty sure that's the only creature I killed, though.

I think...



The lawn looks nice now, and that's what's really important.

Except for that's kind of a lie because it doesn't actually look that good. For being such an organized person I have a very sporadic approach to mowing grass. I guess I'm just a fan of fun patterns because I have all of these swirly lines across my lawn and even though it looks pretty it's not exactly what I imagined.

I would mow a little for awhile and then turn around to see that I had missed a scalene triangle of grass without me actually noticing. So I had to go back and then I'd notice that some of the grass was still wet so it just went flat and wasn't actually cut... so it'll be interesting to see how that looks once it dries.

At one point I realized that I had given my lawn a mohawk (completely on accident). It was super punk rock but, let's face it, a mohawk is a tad cliche now, plus I don't think the landlord would appreciate it.

So now it sort of looks like Homer Simpson's head... mostly bald except for a few spots with about 3 stray hairs...

Awesome.

AND... the hoses were not run over.

Mission? Accomplished.

(PS: If you need a great read for the summer, Jen Lancaster's new book came out yesterday! Pretty In Plaid is sure to be full of laughs and pure awesomeness... AND it's about the 80s (aka The Decade Ally B Began to Exist and Therefore the Most Magical of All Decades... plus there was great music...) So go get it.)

Paranoia in Run-On Sentences

You know when your significant other is out working late and then hanging out with his friends even later and your at home because you have to get up really early and your watching TV and then you fall asleep on the couch and then you hear your dog pacing back and forth and back and forth because you've taken up the whole couch and she/he just can't seem to realize that sometimes dogs have to sleep on the floor?

Then you think that maybe she/he has to pee and you're afraid that she/he will pee in the house because she/he has an over-active bladder problem so you drag yourself off of the couch and take her/him outside and you tell her/him to "go pee" and so she/he sits down and... spends about 45 seconds scratching her/his ear.

So you wait because you really don't want her/him to pee inside and you're freezing so you sort of scream at her/him to "GO PEE" and so she/he brings you a tennis ball and then sits down and... scratches the other ear for 35 seconds.

So you say "fuck it" and go inside and decide you might as well just go to bed so you turn off all of the lights and climb into bed and the dogs fall asleep immediately on their dog beds and you close your eyes and are ready to go to sleep because you have to get up in 5 hours.

And then you hear all of these weird noises.

Creaks.

Thumps.

Bizarre scratching noises.

So you open your eyes and listen really carefully and the dogs don't move so you assume that it must be nothing.

Then you keep hearing weird noises and even though you tell yourself that it's nothing you're actually thinking that there is a zombie burglar outside and you get a little nervous but you keep saying that if the dogs aren't barking or freaking out then it must be nothing but THEN you start thinking that your dogs are either deaf or at the very least COMPLETELY USELESS.

So you start imagining what would happen if a burglar got into the house and if the dogs would attack the crook or if your dogs would sleep through it or if your dogs would just kiss the asshole and you start resenting your dogs for not protecting you.

Then you hear a car door and you hold your breath because you think that it's probably your significant other but what if it's a burglar or rapist who's just really noisy and then you hear the keys in the door and the dogs get up and bark a lot and you're thankful that they're not deaf and then you hear your significant other and you jump out of bed and run into the wall because it's dark and you don't have your glasses on and you got a head rush from jumping out of bed but that doesn't stop you from running to him/her and screaming "THANK GOD YOU'RE HOME! THERE ARE SCARY NOISES!!"

And he/she looks at you like you're kind of pathetic and he/she clearly feels a little sorry for you because you have obviously lost your mind.

So you go back to bed because you have to get up in less than 4 hours and you close your eyes and suddenly... all of the scary noises stop.

So you realize what this means... your significant other obviously has magic powers.

Thank Brad.

(True story.)

Walk Tease

The dogs assaulted me with non-stop sad and pathetic eyes today, causing me to feel guilty about not taking them out in awhile.

(It was rainy and I have a cold, but do they care about that? Not so much.)

So I lassoed them up and set out towards the great yonder (aka, CU Boulder).

Then a very sexy man on a bike rode by and I screamed out "hey hot stuff" and he stopped and I realized it was MY sexy man (thank goodness) and so he came over to say "hi".

And the dogs? Were NOT happy to see him. They finally get out of the house and I stop to talk to their father... who we see ALL THE TIME! They looked at me like I was torturing their very souls by wasting valuable walking time with this NONSENSE.

(Even though we had important things to discuss... like how he just finished a very long bike ride (show-off) and how I needed to paint my toenails... see, important.)

But then he left and the dogs were more than ready to continue our very exciting journey which included wet grass to roll in (woohoo), goose poop to eat (of course), and we even got to see two squirrels getting it on.

(Don't worry... I averted their eyes... they're not even four years old...)

(Hannah wanted to chase the fornicating creatures and I informed her that FOUR Americans die of rabies every year and I'll be damned if she's one of them.)

(Then a guy jogging by looked at me weird for watching squirrel sex and talking to my dog.)

So over all, Spring has sprung.

And the dogs are now happy.

Even though Bonnie tried to trip me while we crossed the street.

(Damn dog.)

I tell myself that it was an accident.

(In other news I got a haircut that I hate and it's making me so depressed that even squirrel sex can't make me feel better.)

(That sounded sad... and like I usually enjoy squirrel sex... which I don't.)

(Really... I'm not some squirrel loving freak...)

(Seriously.)

It's Still Raining so I am Here to Help...

It's still raining here in good ol' Boulder, CO...

As I am now an expert in passing time during rainy/snowy days, I have decided to share with you some of my wisdom...

(I'm kind of like Mother Teresa...)

And so, here are Ally B's Rainy Day Activities!

1) Read Ally B Speakin... so if you're already here, you're off to a great start... and you're pretty...

2) Watch the Lifetime Movie Network. Before you know it, it's Saturday...

3) Dance in the shower. Why "in the shower"? Because you probably haven't showered in a few days. Also, your house might be on the chilly side, and dancing in the warm water (as long as the warm water stays on) will help you out. Finally, dancing can cause you to sweat (if you're doing it right), so dancing in the shower allows you to do so without having to worry about sweating, because your cleaning as you dance. So grab your iPod stereo (or radio or tape deck or portable record player), place it in the bathroom, turn it on to your favorite song, and dance away... (Added bonus: if you pick a song that you like but your boyfriend doesn't it will get stuck in his head and he will sing it all morning... fun for you, annoying for him...)

4) Finish a book. Have you had a book sitting around that you have been meaning to finish for three weeks now? Tell yourself that you will not be getting out of your chair until that book is done. Sit down. Shut up. And read. And, again, you can't get up until it's done. Even if you have to pee. (Having to pee can actually help speed up your reading. You'll realize you have to pee but you'll only have 20 pages left, so you'll read those last 20 pages really really fast so that you can go pee. Before you know it, you're done! Of course, you probably won't remember what you read because the entire time you'll be thinking "have to pee, have to pee, 12 pages left, have to pee...") When you finish the book you'll have physical proof that you accomplished something during these rainy days... (You might also have a urinary tract infection... but at least you finished that damn book!)

5) Encourage your dogs to attack each other play together. Egg them on by pushing one into the other and then throwing toys in between the two of them so that they must fight for who gets the best toy... This may sound cruel, but I assure you, it's awesome. The dogs have been stuck in the house for awhile and they need to get some of their energy out. Also, you get to use your funny voices by exercising your sports commentator skillz:

"Thank you for joining us today on this beautiful rainy day... in one corner we have Bonnie "The DESTROYER" McWiggles and in the other corner we have Hannah "BONECRUSHER" McWrinkles. Bonnie is playing it cool, acting like she doesn't care. Uh-oh, Hannah is taking a major risk here, going in with a swipe of the paw to Bonnie's face... Bonnie is ignorin- OH! Bonnie just pounced on Hannah and is now going for the rope toy! But Hannah is there with a mighty roar! This match is still wide open!..."

You get the picture... especially since I do it in a British accent (that sort of sounds Jamaican). (I was going to post a video, but my camera is broken... I would blame Mike, but I think that the dogs are sick of being exploited on the internets, so they took matters into their own paws...) I want you to know that know dogs were hurt while entertaining me... Round one is over (it was a tie) and they are now curled up together on the floor... no doubt planning their next attack strategies.

6) Hide crackers around the house and then have the dogs find them. This is an excellent way for them to carbo-load for their next match.

7) Try a new hair-do. I curled my hair (not on purpose... it was wet when I sat down to finish my book and since I wasn't allowed to get up to brush it it ended up curly... well, half of it did... my hair is weird like that...) so I tried many different hairstyles. My favorite was when I put it all into a high ponytail and walked around so that the curly ponytail bounced and I felt like a cheerleader... which leads me to my next tip:

8) Make up cheers. "Give me a "R"! Give me an "A"! Give me an "I"! Give me a "N"! What does that spell? RAIN!! It's RAINING!! And I am B-O-R-E-D!! BORED!! Mike! Pay attention to M-E! ME!!"... it's just a little something I'm working on... it's much better than my first cheer where I spelled out some choice phrases that reflected how I felt about this damn rain... I'll spare you, though...

9) Get a hair stuck to the roof of your mouth... the further back you get it, the more time it will take you to remove it. This is a fun little game to play anytime because when you think you finally got it... you feel it back there again... tricky little bastard... but man does it pass the time!

10) And finally, if you just can't stand the rain and cold anymore: check the weather. It's supposed to be in the 60s and 70s next week... thanks, Colorado.

So there you have it! I should also point out that you can do any and all of these activities with or without the rain... so if it's sunny where you are, please do not hesitate to try one of these AWESOME suggestions!

And please share yours, too...

(PS: All of these become exponentially more fun with alcohol... though you all probably could have guessed that.)

(PPS: But no alcohol for the dogs... that's not cool... you can be drunk, but they can't... it's just a good rule of thumb...)

(PPPS: You're welcome...)