April showers can kiss my ass....and other recent gripes...

Well, it's been a while...a long while.  My first excuse would be my vacation...my second excuse doesn't exist.  Sorry.  That said, this blog is merely to update you on the last week of my life and my latest gripes.  I warn you....here be bitching...leave now if you don't like "whiners".

Have you ever heard the expression "I need a vacation from my vacation"??  Well, that would be me this week.  We got back from Georgia on Monday, and frankly I should have taken Tuesday off.  For realz.  I can't really say that I had any major work crisis on Tuesday other than a barrage of emails and customer issues.  While I do love my job, I find my biggest gripe is when customers don't listen to the simple instructions I give them....it's not hard.  Do what I tell you....exactly what I tell you...and you won't have issues with your account that I will need to fix.  Sounds easy, right?  One would think, but that is rarely the case.  Without getting into the details, let's just say, Tuesday was a beast.  I vividly remember sitting in my car on my lunch break on Tuesday, exhausted already, trying to decide whether to cry or buy up all the chocolate in the Speedway across the street.  I went for a bag of the jumbo "shareable" size peanut m&ms and went back to work.  Let's just say I shared the first half of the bag with my thighs and the second half with my ass.  500 calories later.....I felt both comfort and misery (at the thought of the extra time I would need to put in at the gym).  Oh well. 

There was light at the end of the work-week tunnel though.  All week I was looking forward the the weekend because my family and I had our annual Keeneland day planned.  This year is kind of a big deal because Keith has never been to Keeneland (I know, right??).  So after 5 years in Lexington, I was planning on introducing him to one of the only fun things to do in this city.  Typically, my family does it up pretty big...we tailgate, we drink, we eat, we socialize, we play cornhole, we bet, we lose money, we eat some more.  It's pretty f'ing awesome.  Plus, it's pretty much the only time I can get my family to visit me in Lexington.  So the plan was for everyone to stay at my place Friday night, Keeneland bright and early Saturday, and I had made dinner reservations for Saturday night.  Keith and I spent all evening Wednesday after work and the gym cleaning the carpets, washing sheets, and getting the guest room ready.  Thursday night I tackled the bathrooms and the kitchen.  Friday I had a pre-planned half day at work so I could get everything spotless (well as spotless as I can get things) and ready for guests. 

Well, the best laid plans typically go to shit and this time was no different.  Mom called me Friday on my way to work to inform me that there was 80% chance of rain on Saturday and Dad was trying to find out if we could get tickets to the clubhouse.  Dad called me 30 minutes later to tell me that we could not get tickets to the clubhouse.  He also let me know that he called Brynn and Lukus (sister and brother-in-law) to let them know the recent developments as they might not want to make the drive to Lexington if it's going to rain.  I'm not going to lie, I was pretty mad at this point.  For months we had been planning this day at Keeneland and I had made it VERY clear to everyone that it was important to me that everyone be there.  Keith doesn't typically get weekends off so he had to take vacation days in order to go.  Well, I guess everyone in the family decided that even though it was important to me to still make the trip, it was more important to them to not get wet (even though there are many indoor areas at the racetrack).  So, no one came.  The good news in all of this, however is that I was able to return the $120 dress I bought specifically for the outing.  I plan on using it to fund the therapy I'll need for yet another "middle-child" disaster.  This fund has slowly been growing since middle school...;-)

All was not lost though....Keith and I still went to Keeneland on Saturday with my best gal pal Whitney, and had a blast.  The rain stopped at about 9:00am and didn't start up again until 8:00pm on Saturday, so we had a nice, dry, and at some points, sunny day at Keeneland.  Whitney even won $150 on a $6 bet...so tough shit to everyone who missed out!  We even got to meet, the f'ing Easter Bunny.  Ha!

Okay, so now that I have gotten that rant out of the way, I have to ask....what the hell is up with the rain and storms...for serious...what is up with that?  I know it's April and these showers are supposed to bring some May flowers, but damn....where are these flippin' tulips already?!?!  So far April showers have gotten me the following:  a broken outdoor patio umbrella, a wet dog (and accompanying "wet dog" smell in my house), muddy entry way floors, about 20 bad hair days, that squishy "foot in a wet sandal" feeling when walking through a rainy parking lot, and of course locked in the Fayette mall during a tornado warning....but what it has NOT gotten me is any flippin' flowers...not even one!  So I appeal to you mother nature (more like mother f**ker at this point)...enough with the rain.  I promise we get it.

Aside from Keeneland, this weekend was also Easter.  Since Keith had requested the whole weekend off for Keeneland, we decided to take advantage and go to the Easter service at Southland.  I have been to this Easter service for the past 2 or 3 years, so I immediately suggested it for Sunday morning.  Keith hadn't been to this church before, but agreed to go, and I agreed to check out Quest (the church Keith sometimes goes to) sometime in the future.  The service was great, and the message as well if I do say so myself.  As we were walking back to the car, I asked Keith what he thought of the service.  His response??  "Well, it was good, but I feel like Quest has better graphics."  I felt tempted to agree with him in this...while I have not been to a service at Quest before, I do remember something in the bible stating that if Jesus had put together a power point with some nice graphics or a better edited video on the importance of his life, he may not have been crucified.  After all, good graphics is one of the 10 Commandments, right?  Oh geez...I say this in good fun.  If ever it came into question whether males are visual creatures, I believe that statement proves it.  God love him. 

The final coup de grace in my fabulous, yet un-fabulous weekend was discovering last night that I am allergic to band-aids.  Yeah, for real.  Ironically enough, Keith has also developed an allergy to putting dishes in the dishwasher.  The good news for him though is that while my allergy results in puss-filled blisters on my skin, his allergy merely results in an annoyed girlfriend.  Oh well....live and learn.

There were a couple small highlights to my week....I can't let you think it was all bad.  They include: buying Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 on dvd (though slightly less awesome after discovering the brother ordered it on On Demand on my tv while dog-sitting), and second (and best of all) discovering an $18 bottle of Pinot Grigio on the menu at The Pub.  Whit and me made short work of that!

I leave you with one final photo....even though dishes in the dishwasher aren't his thing, I still find him useful around the house...and I didn't even have to ASK for him to do this..... :-)

Georgia On My Mind....

Well, it's been a good week now since I've written a blog post.  I apologize, sincerely.  Knowing that  your lives have been devoid of my sarcasm and general negativity for that last week pains me in a way I can scarcely comprehend, but I promise I have a legitimate excuse.  For you see, I've had many things on my mind this week.  Georgia, to be exact.  Georgia on my mind. 

Cue the Ray Charles music....

In order for you to fully comprehend why this is a sound excuse, I would like to take you back for a moment to June 2008.  Why so far back you ask?  Well, sad to say, June 2008 was the last time this little girl had a vacation to somewhere warm.  No I mean it.  Really.  As much as I love my old Kentucky home, every so often, a girl needs a little escape.  Don't get me wrong, I've had a staycation here and there, a few holidays in between, and maybe a personal day or two.  But a real "time-off-for-myself-get-the-f**k-outta-this-town-and-head-somewhere-warm" vacation has been nearly 3 years in the making.  That is all about to change.  On Thursday morning, Keith and I are driving to the great state of Georgia for a whirlwind "Tour-de-Family".

We began mulling over the idea for a trip to Savannah back in December.  For those of you who don't know, Keith's sister lives in Savannah, and my sister and brother live in Atlanta, about 30 minutes from McDonough, GA where Keith's parents live.  So, needless to say, we both have ties to this southern state and thought Savannah would be a great opportunity to visit with everyone. Well that and get a tan.  While talk of this trip began in December, it wasn't until January when my crippling Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) led me to turn to him and say "Babe, if I don't get a vacation soon, I'm either going to blow my brains out or yours.  You decide."  After that, the Savannah trip was on. 

Well, sort of....

Initially the plan was to fly down to Savannah and stay for about 5 days, and hopefully meet up with both his and my family while there.  As it turns out, a lot of other people in the south think springtime in Savannah is a novel idea (who knew?) and we could not get any good rates on a hotel, or a flight, sad (very sad) to say.  Well after a few minor vacation meltdowns, a new plan emerged...spend a few days in Atlanta and a few days in Savannah and get over ourselves.  So, there you have it.  Our mini-vacation was born.  First stop on our "Tour-de-Family" is Atlanta where we are going to have dinner and drinks with Keith's parents, who I am meeting for the first time.  While most people would feel this is a nerve-wracking experience in itself, I am actually pretty excited.  Even though Keith and I have known each other for over 3 years now and dated for about 7 or 8 months previously, and I have never met anyone in his family until this year.  It sort of feels like my coming out party.  I'm legit now.  I wonder if Keith's mom and dad will think it's strange when I show up in a full cotillion gown with a tiara for our dinner?

Is this too much??

I have to admit, while I'm thrilled to meet the parents, I am most looking forward to exploring Savannah this weekend.  There's something about being near the water that makes me giddy.  I guess it won't really feel like a vacation until I can see the lights on the water at night.  Plus, after nearly 10 hours in the car together, it might be an opportune time to pitch Keith into the Savannah River if he's getting on my nerves.  But mostly the first thing.

The Savannah River at Night



Our final stop on the tour will be a second stint in Atlanta for a Braves game and cookout with my brother and sister.  I feel like this is going to be an awesome way to cap off the long weekend.  Well, unless the Braves lose.  That won't make for such a great ride home.  Especially when I throw my Boston Red Sox hat on for the drive just to rub salt in Keith's wounds.  I can't help that it looks adorable on me....

Need I say more?

So, as you can see, my thoughts and life have been pretty pre-occupied with thoughts of peaches, seafood, and humidity...thoughts of Georgia.  After this whirlwind vacation, I'm pretty sure I'm going to need one of those vacations for my vacation.  It's a lot to cram into 5 days, but I feel confident we can manage.  Besides, after we booked our hotel for Savannah, I looked at Keith and said, "Babe, if I don't get to the beach soon, I'm either going to blow my brains out or yours.  You decide."  Thus, our Hilton Head trip in June was born.  I sure am a lucky gal ;-).



Mean Girls....so NOT "fetch"

I think it's important to take a moment every now and then to shed light on important real-world issues that have brought devestation to many.  Today is that day.  While some of you may choose to highlight such topics as cancer, apartheid, or even the on-going earthquake devestation in Japan, I choose to discuss a topic that continues to cripple the psyche and the social circumstance of girls everywhere.  Mean girls.  It's an epedemic.

Mean Girls: Girls who are bullies and use "girl agression" (nasty comments, trickery, deceit, excluding people from events, spreading rumors, stealing boyfriends,etc.) to manipulate other girls.

While the origin of mean girls is highly unknown, studies have shown that often times the evolution of a mean girl can stem from any of the following:  Bitchy PTA mothers, "Princess" complex as a child, Excess of bleach blonde hair dye which seeps into the brain, Not enough "hugs" from mommy and daddy, cripplingly low self esteem stepping from gross personal shortcomings, and of course, a downright Evil soul.  Typical markings can include, but are not limited to, the following:  Processed blonde hair, usually accompanied by TPT (trailer park trash) brown roots, a gaggle of minions on either side, a boyfriend (usually an asshole, typically stolen from another girl), and facebook profile pictures including either "modeling" shots or pictures by themseves in bikinis, underwear, or a general lack of clothing.

It is important to remember that, like herpes, mean girls have no cure and can hibernate for lengths of time seemingly unnoticed.  However, outbreaks of mean girls can be sudden and very painful.  They will use any number of tactics to get what they want, usually involving bringing you down to build themselves up.  Typical methods of doing so involve bitchy facebook posts, facebook stalking, telling lies about themselves and you to mutual friends and acquantainces, "accidentally" on purpose spilling their drink at you on a bar, and hurling indirect insults like "skank" and "bitch" at you when you walk by.

WARNING: Mean girls will be nice to your face, but don't be fooled...they can and will turn on you the second you turn your back.  Never leave a mean girl alone with your boyfriend, mutual friends, or your boss as they have perfected the art of manipulation.  Mean girls often travel with "Skinny Bitches".  Beware.

As stated before, there is no cure for mean girls, however those who have come in contact with them can take comfort in knowing that when stripped down, mean girls are actually merely pathetic, wannabes, with poor social skills.  Mean girls will never experience the joy of true friendship, meaningful relationships, and real pure happiness. 

If you or someone you know has been affected by a mean girl, please watch the following video, and remember, you are not alone!

Fat Bottomed Girls...We make the Rockin' World go Round...

It's nearly that time of year again.  From the slight lift in the temperature, to the empty shelves in the healthfood aisle at Kroger, to the quiet weeping coming from fitting rooms accross the city....the signs are everywhere.  Bathing suit season is upon us.  Despite it's return every year at this time, I still find myself anxiously checking and re-checking my calendar to make sure I am not mistaken...Wasn't Christmas only a few days ago? I ask myself.  I should still have a good 2 months of cookie-eating and bulky sweaters before I should have to concern myself with the unmistakable horror that comes in spring along with the blooming of the dogwoods.

Some of you reading this may have no idea what horror I speak of....you're what I like to call a "Skinny Bitch".  Frankly, I'm not sure how you managed to stumble across my blog either, as I would never associate myself with someone so purely evil as the "Skinny Bitch".  As for the rest of you, you know exactly what I'm talking about.  Every year we vow to be ready for the insurmountable task....the ungettable get....the agony of finding a suit that somehow manages to not only have enough material to cover our lady parts, but also miraculously will make us look 10 lbs thinner. 

This year has been no different.  I, like many, start slowly...things this scary must be eased into like dipping your big toe in the water to test out the temperature.  I started with shorts.  Starting with shorts is necessary to somehow ease yourself into seeing your stark white legs in full view.  All winter we can get away with the mad dash out of the shower to avoid the mirrors and convincing yourself that the reflection wasn't you, but merely a ghost inhabiting your bathroom.  But shorts put you face to face with the moonlit glow wafting from your skin.  I suggest starting with neutral and muted colors....khaki, grey, etc.  I made the mistake of trying a pair of cute J.Crew shorts on in a bright light blue....never again.  Somehow the blue color not only cast a glow out of my dressing room like a scene from E.T., but it also managed to pick out all the colors of my veins like blue crayon on white paper.  Lesson learned. 

After I finished the easing in process of buying shorts, I thought I might be ready.  So one Saturday morning I woke up, pre-breakfast, and headed to Target.  I browsed the swimsuit area for about 15 minutes, finally picking out 2 suits that, on the hanger, seemed like they would adequately cover all my wobbly bits and headed to the dressing room.  After I closed the dressing room door, I took a deep breath and relished in what would come to be known as "the before", as in all the time up the moment you try on your first swim suit of the season.  "The before" is a time filled with hope and reassurance...and of course, prayer. 

As I slid the first of the two suits on, I mentally told myself it would be alright.  I've been working hard, I'm in good shape, I say to myself.  There's no reason this should be scary....right?  I look up at myself in the mirror and take stock.  It's a strapless bikini with a cute print...no string bottoms, of course...I'm no fool.  It's at this point that I start to think, hey I don't look so bad!  There's no muffin top, or excessive boob fat hanging out anywhere...from the front, I can almost congratulate myself!  But the test is yet to come.  I slowly.......verrrrry slowly.....make that 180 degree turn that can (and will) change everything.  This is the time I refer to as "the after".  "The after" is filled with cumpulsive dieting, nighmares of cottage cheese, and random emotional outbursts (REO). 

So here I am in the Target dressing room staring at my backside in a bathing suit for the first time since August.  What happens next is a series of events that remains unchanged from year-to-year.  It's practically choreographed.  First, I immediately grab the tag and check the size.  I feel sure that I have inadvertantly grabbed and extra small or was somehow shopping in the toddler section.  No dice.  The size is right.  Next I turn from side to side, because, it's clearly the angle at which I'm viewing myself that's making my ass look like it's grown 3 sizes in 10 minutes.  Again, no suck luck.  I immediately rip the bathing suit off my body, convinced now that this strange elephant-backside phenomenon is merely a result of a defect in the suit.  The second suit, inexplicably has the same defect.  Stange how it has managed to carry over from not only different styles, but different designers as well.  After putting the second suit back on the hanger, I redress myself and sit in the fitting room contemplating my next move...do I try on more suits or sucumb to the REO I feel bubbling up in my psyche?

I pull my hat down as far as possible as I exit the dressing room (it is quite important to wear a hat to the store when trying on suits to properly hide the look of shame on your face when you leave) and deposit my mis-sewn suits to the fitting room attendant and try to make a clean exit.  But of course as I am walking away, I hear "Those didn't work out for you today?" from the attendant.  She's a "Skinny Bitch" too.  She wouldn't understand.  "No they didn't..." I reply, contemplating adding a "...you waify tramp!" to the end of my response.   But I keep it classy. 

Driving home I wonder if I should just give up and get a McFlurry at the McDonalds drive through, or stop at Kroger for a roll of cookie dough to eat with a spoon.  After all, my ass has already reached epic proportions...what's a few more calories??  I deny the urge, however.  I begin to conteplate a number of things, trying to convince myself that my ba-donk-a-donk is completely normal.  Sure, the African-American male community has started it's own local fan group for it, and there may be a good 2 inch gap between the waist-band of all my pants and my lower back so as to accomodate the girth of my rear, but that's normal, right?  I mean, everyone knocks things over when they turn around in small rooms, and gets asked regularly where they can find Apple-Bottom jeans, right?  And what's that timeless expression?  I think it goes...'guys don't make passes at girls with flat asses'?  That's like, a line from the old testament, right?  So really I have nothing to worry about.  I've now convinced myself that neither mine, nor any "normal" girls ass was meant to fit in a bikini bottom and can breathe a sigh of relief as I pull in the driveway. 

Nevertheless, I decide to avoid another round of humiliation by ordering an excessive number of suits online that night.  I play the odds that at least one of them will accomodate my "normal" physique and silently vow to cut out all carbs for seven to ten days (the amount of time for a standard shipping from Victoria's Secret).  I promise myself that next year will be different...I WILL be prepared for bathing suit season next year!  I also promise myself to smack my boyfriend upside the head for drooling over the bathing suit models at victoriassecret.com after he "insisted" on seeing which suits I was thinking of getting.  Poor asshole...I can't wait to see the look on his face that precedes the comment, "Hmmm....it looked different online."

In closing, I would like to leave you with the following...no one said it better than the late, great Freddie Mercury....

 

It's Sawyer's World....I just happen to live in it.

I'm not the only one celebrating a birthday this week.  My yellow lab turned two the day before my birthday.  Yep...that's two people years, folks.  That puts my dog right around the difficult teen years (about 14 in dog years).  Thank God he's not a girl dog...he'd be a real bitch about now.

In honor of this monumentous event, I feel it's important to reflect on our last two years together and how Sawyer came into my life in the first place.  For those of you who've known me for a long time, you may remember that I used to be pretty adamant about the fact that I was not going to become a dog owner until I had a husband and a big yard for said dog to play in.  "It just wouldn't be fair for me to have a dog in a tiny apartment with no one to help me take care of it..." I would say.  I felt very strongly about this.  As Whitney (my old roomie, and fabulous gal-pal) remembers, she desperately wanted a dog when we lived together.  So after about 6 months of casual and not-so casual hints and my continuous "It's not fair for the dog..." speeches, she finally gave up and just got herself a dog in spite of my objections.  Well, Bentley(her dog) turned out to be a pretty awesome little dog, but it did nothing to sway my feelings on pre-marital dog ownership.

Then one day it happened....I remember it clearly.  I was reading the girl's bible (Cosmopolitan magazine) and came across an article about the "10 Things Every Single Girl Needs".  On the list was a dog.  There were several valid reasons...they keep you active, the watch-dog aspect, etc, but at the time I merely shrugged it off and turned the page to continue my education on what I'm sure were the latest make-up trends or an article on "The 50 Things He's Thinking But Not Saying".  For some reason though, I kept thinking of this article over the next week and the thoughts kept creeping in...I mean, if Cosmo says I need a dog, can I really go against THE BIBLE?  Then, all at once my answer was clear....I may never have a husband or a backyard.  My prospects at the time were certainly few and far-between, so I threw my old doctrine out the window and adopted the Cosmo doctrine.  I needed a dog. 

Two weeks later I had a deposit down on Sawyer and was anxiously awaiting the day when I could go pick him up from the breeder and planning our fabulous adventures together.  I could already picture it....me walking in the park with my adorable puppy and the delicious chisled 20-something docter/lawyer/architect that would stop to admire him, and of course, fall in love with me.  I felt confident that this was my best decision yet! 

Boy was I in for a rude awakening.....

When I brought Sawyer home on the first day, he cautiously sniffed out his new living arrangements and immediately felt comfortable enough to take his first shit just outside the kitchen of my single girl apartment.  We had been home for maybe a minute and a half.  The fun did not stop there.  He woke me up crying about 3-4 times every night the first week he was home and I would dutifully get out of bed, take him out to potty, and then lay next to his crate and pet him until he fell back asleep.  It was then, of course, that I decided I was never having children.  On the 4th night of Sawyer and my "fabulous" new life together, I called my mom sobbing and telling her I had made a huge mistake. 

After some reassurance, and no doubtedly a few dozen bottles of wine, enough time passed to where I was starting to get used to the routine.  It took about 2 months to where Sawyer would sleep through the night, but we were beginning to grow accustomed to each other.  One of my most special puppy memories of Sawyer was waking up one morning when he was about 3 months old and taking him down the stairs of my then apartment to go potty before breakfast.  This was the routine since Sawyer still wasn't big enough to go down the steps himself.  I would carry him and set him in the grass to do his business.  On this special morning I was running down the steps when I feel that special warmth in my heart.  As it turns out, this "special warmth" was actually piss.  Sawyer peed all down the front of me before I could even get to the grass.  After realizing there was no more pee to be relieved, I grabbed him and carried him back inside, completely repulsed at my piss-covered pajamas.  No sooner had we entered the apartment, I had my shirt ripped off and thrown in the laundry.  As I turned to get Sawyer's food ready, I noticed a familiar pacing from the dog in the entry way.  He was walking in circles, sniffing the floor.  I knew what was next.  I scrambled furiously for a shirt as I was not yet comfortable enough with my neighbors to wave good morning to them, topless, as I take my dog for a shit.  There was no shirt to be found.  Sawyer left a steaming pile of crap for me right there in the entry way as if to say, "Hey Mom, happy Monday!  Here's a present!".

The first year of my life with Sawyer was filled with moments like that.  When I moved out of that apartment, I didn't even try to get any of my security deposit back as I felt confident that it would go to either new carpeting or new tiling in the entry-way to replace the pieces Sawyer clawed up and ate.  When I bought my current house, I wrote into the sales contract that the seller had to install laminate flooring onto the entire first floor and rip up the carpet.  I was no fool.  In the first year I had Sawyer, I would constantly get stopped in the park, not by cute shirtless men, but rather by obnoxious kids who wanted to pet my dog.  I got wise to that game pretty quick.  Now when kids ask me if they can pet him, I usally say things like "Sure, but he bites..."  and smile. 

Another common occurance in the first year of dog-ownership was the looks of pity and an ever-growing feeling of shame everytime I would visit PetSmart.  On one of our 6-month check-up/vaccine visits to the store, I remember getting out of the car and standing for about 15 minutes outside in the grassy "doggy business" area, waiting for Sawyer to take care of his business.  No dice.  I felt confident that said business had been taken care of before we left the house and proceeded into the store and to our Vet appointment.  5 minutes later, I learned of a new special trait of Sawyer's I like to called "Excited Poo" in which he leaves a mushy pile of shit in the middle of PetSmart at the sheer excitement of being there.  Yay!  It was also on this visit that the Vet kindly asked me to give him a couple benedryl before I brought him back in for another visit as he was "a little wound up" as she put it.  Bitch.

Despite the day-to day struggles of my dog, he has slowly.....verrrrrrry slowly....grown mostly out of his puppy ways.  I can now leave him out of his crate when I'm gone, know that he won't pee until we go outside, and I can stop any potential threat of bad behavior with the mere sight of a water bottle conveniently kept in the main floor of the house.  I could honestly continue this wildly long post with hours of anecdotes about Sawyer-isms and Sawyer stories, but I won't.  I will sum it up with a list of facts about life with Sawyer:

1. No matter how many plastic bags you take on your walk with Sawyer, he will always poop one more time than you have bags for.
2. He does NOT like the "Gentle Leader" that was recommended by the dog trainer and will demonstrate his distaste for this product by attempting to bite your pinky finger off.
3. He WILL eat the super cute hat you bought at J.Crew for Keeneland last year.
4. He will eat any hat you bought at any store, for any occasion, when you entrust your brother to dog-sit.
5. He does not like things that smell like peppermint.
6. He will lick all the lotion and sunscreen off your legs if you dare to walk near him in shorts.
7. He will eat anything.  No really, anything.
8. No matter how many towels, napkins, paper towels or bath towels you own, Sawyer will always produce more slobber than they can clean up.
9. He will drink from any toilet in any bathroom that you have left open, regardless of whether the lid is up or down.
10. He will run and fetch balls, sticks, toys, etc........but you will never get them back once he's fetched them. 
11. He will bark at the front door for hours, regardless of whether anyone is out there or not.
12. He will most definitely eat the filet mignon you've been marinating for dinner all day if you go to grab more ingredients out of the fridge and leave them unattended.
13. He will always, without fail, greet you when you come home from work, wake up in the morning, enter a room, or come into his presence at all with unbiased affection and sheer joy at your existence.
14. He is the best couch-laying, movie-watching buddy anyone could ask for.
15. He was worth the $400 I paid the breeder for him, plus $1 Million more.

Happy Birthday, Sawyer-boy!