Mastiff Varieties

We interrupt our religious talk to bring you this very enlightening post about Mastiffs. This is Benny,

Don't let this cute face fool you.

Benny is an English Mastiff. I think we are all in agreement here that Benny is cute as shit. Now, the reason we all think Benny is so stinking cute in this photo is twofold. One, we can't smell Benny through the computer. Two, Benny's drool, acne and general disgustingness are not truly captured in this photo.

 I feel I should stop here, to let everyone know how very much we love Benny, he is a member of our family and we love him very dearly; disgusting drool, farts and acne included.

Benny at 8 weeks old. The forehead wrinkles, I die.

However, this is not what I have come here to talk about. Oh no, I am here to talk about the two varieties of mastiffs. You see, mastiffs are wonderful dogs, they really are. They are loyal to their owners, great with kids, awesome guard dogs, and lets be honest it is very nice that Benny only has about an hour of energy in him per day - the other 23 are spent sleeping, eating, drooling and farting. Now, just because they are so wonderful does not mean they are perfect. You see, Benny has this little problem; by little problem I mean epic shitting problem.

Benny at 6 weeks... we had no idea what we were in for!

Our dear sweet little Benny boy has some abandonment issues. In that, if he is left alone for .5 seconds he assumes that we have abandoned him forever and acts out by shitting everywhere. Have you ever seen a Mastiff shit? No? Well, let me tell you they are as large and smelly as you would imagine them to be. Our sweet little Benny is 12 months old today, and for the past 12 months he has shit on the floor at least once a day every day. For. the. last. twelve. months. That is a lot of Mastiff poopy.

Oh no, not me Momma!

Now you say, hey jackasses why don't you crate train that dog. It is not the dogs fault he is shitting on the floor, it is his stupid owners fault for not training him right. To that I say, 12 months ago I would have whole-heartedly agreed with you, it is the stupid owners fault for not crate training him! This was before we had Benny. You see, we have crate trained sweet Benny; Benny just doesn't give a shit (pun very much intended) if he shits in his crate or not. In fact, he is so cool with shitting in his cage that he will happily roll around in it, get it on his paws and fling it at passerbyes through his cage: yay!

But wait! you say: "You can't just leave the dog in the cage, you have to take him out frequently so he has a chance to go outside." To that I say, how about every 30 minutes for frequently; because yes, that is how often Benny was being taken out. He would even go outside, then come back in and promptly shit in his cage; because apparently that's his idea of a good time. He's an asshole, it's ok you can say it.

Sidenote: The little turd muffin is also terrified of his dog bed and refuses to go near it or touch it. Thus, our queen size bed holds an ex-lineman husband, a 220 lb. mastiff, and a little Italian wife with nowhere to go.

Anyways, my point is; Charles and I were at our wits end with this dog, and each other. I was all, "you wanted this shitting machine," and he was all, "well you didn't say no..." (Which ladies, this one is totally on him amiright!?). This continued for about 4 months, until finally we decided to let Benny out of the cage when we were gone, and see if that helped. It didn't, he just shits on the floor, but it's easier to clean shit off the floor than to clean it out of a cage and off the idiot dog. Finally, on the eve of ol' Benny boy's 8 month birthday Charles decided enough was enough, and he was going to reach out to other mastiff owners and find out when and where our dog suffered his severe brain damage.

Turns out, Benny does not have brain damage; he is just the pooping variety of Mastiff. You see, Mastiff's crave human attention, they need human attention; when they don't get this attention they act out in one of two ways - they chew or they shit. We got the shitting variety. That's right ladies and gentleman, because his farting, drooling, and pulsating pimples weren't disgusting enough; we get to add, "takes massive shits whenever left alone for 30 seconds" to the list. Don't worry though, he should grow out of this around his second birthday.....

Oh don't mind me, I'm just going to come smother you with my love after you pick my poopy up off the floor.

Moral of the story? Find our which varieties your dog breed comes in before you let your husband talk you into buying that oh so cute 220 lb. shitting machine.

You really are lucky you're so cute and loveable Benny boy.

He's a Drifter, but He's My Drifter.

This man.

He's so different from me I often wonder how we've ended up together. I'm wound so tightly, and I have all of my ducks in such neat tidy rows. I have my life plan, I have my goals and come hell or high water I'm going to accomplish them when I planned to accomplish them dammit. I've never been one for the spontaneous, and I love my to do lists. While he, he wouldn't know what a to do list was if it jumped up and bit him. He does what he wants when he wants. He doesn't worry about what he'll be doing five years or ten years from now, and he would laugh in your face at the mention of a life plan. He is just happy to be - happy to be here with me.

I tell him over and over again he is my calm, he is my smooth waters, my best thing. For when my lists get to long or my plans go awry he pulls me to him, my sea of calm. Sometimes I feel unworthy of him. I'm so busy reaching for that next goal, looking ahead to that next step on that life plan that I forget to breath and look at what I have right now. He's never too busy for that, he's never too pre-occupied to tell me that he loves me, or cup my face in his hands and kiss me on the forehead in that way that I love. I fear that I fail him as a wife.

He takes risks where I would rather stay back and make sure it was safe before I ventured out. At times I wish he wouldn't take so many risks. I wish he wouldn't smoke, I wish he wouldn't drive so fast, I wish he wouldn't drive around with the gas tank on E; but he does and he will because that's him. That's the man that I married. I married the man who didn't give a shit what the rules were. Who showed no fear at riding a motorcycle or shooting a gun, and I loved him for those things then as I do now.

Adding another tattoo that I love. 

This man drives me so crazy it hurts - I worry that he lives too fast, that he doesn't take responsibility, that he will always be a drifter. Then he looks at me with those deep blue eyes and he says, "I love you darlin'" in that deep Hoosier accent, and the calmness washes over me once more. He may be a drifter, but he is my drifter - he's not going anywhere and neither am I. We need each other - the planner and the drifter, I pull him back as he pulls me forward in a perfect equilibrium.

When I'm old and wrinkled there is no one else who's wrinkled hand I want intertwined in mine than my drifter's. He is my heart, my soul, my calm - my drifter.

Let's Talk about Miley, Shall We?

Miley, oh Miley...

I will now never look at a foam finger the same way again...

Like many others I tuned into the MTV VMAs last night, (rumers of an N'SYNC reunion!? I'm there!) and was amused / horrified by the monstrosity that was the Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke performance. In truth if Miley wants to parade around in a bear body suit and plastic undies in front of millions that's her perogative, I'm not here to be the morality police. In truth, I just felt so embarressed for her.

Not embarrassed in a poor Miley she didn't know what she was doing kind of a way - embarrassed in a good lord you just made a huge ass out of yourself kind of a way. If there's several internet memes going around comparing your booty to a turkey - you just made a huge blunder.

That being said - judging by last nights festivities I don't think I'm too far off base when I say, I don't think Miley had the brainpower to plan that whole thing out for herself. Obviously there had to be teams of professionals who collaborated together to create the shit show that was last night, not to mention Robin Thicke had just as much a part in the creep fest as Miley.

Don't you have a wife Robin Thicke?

Granted, he wasn't dry humping a foam finger, but he he did dry hump a barley 18 year old young woman half his age - creepy.

What's the point? The point is, Miley screwed up yes, but she certainly didn't screw up alone. This screw up was a long time coming. From being sexualized on Hannah Montana from an early age, to VMA producers telling her it would be a great idea to gyrate on a creepy ass teddy bear. Yet, somehow she seems to be the only one taking the heat for this; and she seems to be the only one having her character decimated.

So yes, I'm embarrassed for Miley. I'm embarrassed that she has to look at her ass in the mirror and subconsciously compare it to a turkey. I'm embarrassed that a young talented woman was yet again portrayed as bimbo slut barbie. I'm embarrassed for her that she made herself out to be a fool.

In the end though, I'm mostly just embarrassed for us as a culture. Is this what we idealize? Young women making fools of themselves for our entertainment? Maybe, just maybe instead of putting all of our energy into comparing Miley's ass to poultry; we should put just a tiny ounce of that energy towards endorsing intelligent and creative women with self respect and dignity. As we hopefully all realize at some point in our twenties, it's one thing to be sexy and feel good about yourself; it's an entirely other thing to make an ass out of yourself trying to be sexy.

And in closing...

No Miley, you don't.