So I decided that it was hit time I introduced everyone to our second dog, Booge. It’s pronounced like Boo (like a ghost) with a “j” sound like in juice. My dad was firmly against us getting a third dog (we had Magic and Cyrus at the time) unless it was a Boston terrier named “Spike” or “Pug”. He’d grown up with Bostons with those two names rotating and wanted to continue the tradition.
Booge celebrating 4th of July.
We agreed to getting a Boston Terrier, but refused both names because “Pug” is a breed of dog and just sounded dumb, and the last Spike had been such an awful dog that no one wanted his name to ever be brought up again (this is true, Spike was terrible).
So a few weeks ago I introduced you guys to my childhood gang, The Pirates. It’s worth mentioning that our younger siblings were relegated to the vastly inferior, thought technically more numerous, Meats.
So by most people’s standards I’m pretty nerdy. That’s something I haven’t touched on much but I plan on getting more into as this blog continues. So I should start with my first great nerdy love. Harry Potter.
Magic was never dog aggressive but he was also not super friendly. He’d try to play with Cinnamon but she was pretty much the only one. This is the story of how he and Cyrus met.
Hope you leave here laughing,
Give me the food!
So I was going to make Friday my fiction day and write a short story or something so I got out my box of prompts (a GREAT gift from a Nanowrimo swap buddy) and drew one out. It said, “It’s you MC’s birthday! But everyone forgot.” This reminded me of an actual real story to tell so I’ll have to do the made up one some other time.
Before I get into it though you have to know something about me, I am one of those people who loves their birthday. I just do. I don’t think anything special or magical is gonna happen and I don’t expect everyone to wait on me hand and foot, but when I wake up on my birthday I just get so excited and it usually carries me through the rest of the day.
Alright the past few days this blog has been animal heavy, and since that’s not everyone’s cup of tea I decided to go back to regular human stories. This is the story of the worst thing my parents ever did to me.
So every summer on some random night when my dad, uncles, and other adult male relatives were around they set up the horror known as “The Ghost Ride”
We (the children) would pile into my grandparents rickety golf cart and my grandma would drive us at .05mph around The Jungle Book (there’s a description here if you missed it). The adults would get scary masks and hide in the bushes. When we crawled past they would jump out and scream and grab us. The golf cart would always “break down” at least once and we’d be accosted by the “ghosts” it was the worst thing ever.
This is Colleen and me at prime Ghost Ride age.
I have a very good friend who, if he sees this, will disagree with everything I’m about to say, so that’s why I’ve added the parentheses to the title.
But in my experience sports fans are CRAZY superstitious; and the people in my family, including myself, are no exception. I was once at a basketball game with Colleen and the non superstitious friend mentioned above Francis. Our team was up four points with five minutes to go, which in basketball time is about a year, and they said, “Well there’s no way we can lose this game let’s go now so we can beat the traffic.” I told them to shut it because they were gonna jinx it, and being the terrible people they are they DIDN’T. They kept saying nonsense like that. We did end up winning that game but not before I moved away from them because they were making me too nervous. This sort of thing happens all the time. And it’s not just me.
Remember when the 49ers made it to the Super Bowl in 2013? I thank this guy.