So after a grotesquely overindulgent burger-fest, Steve & I went to see Avatar. I don’t see many movies in the theater because my hips have been complete and apparently permanent assholes since I was a teen, but given that there is the whole “3-D” part of it, we gave it a whirl.

The story was a little hinkey in that we’ve heard it a bazillion times before (think of every “blockbuster put out in the last 10 years) though I did truly appreciate the fact that we as humans (oops, sorry, THE USA) were the asshats and the aliens were the better kind. It was a refreshing change for the norm.

So, despite the issues I had with the rehashed same old, same old story line, I have to say that the visuals, the lushness of the scenes, the sheer fucking beauty of it…….

Yeah, I loved it. I didn’t even notice it was almost three fucking hours long. Take it from a chick that has wonky hips and avoids theaters like the plague. It’s a really fucking fun ride. And how can you fault something that lets you turn around at any given time to look out to a room full of people wearing creepy Woody Allen-esque black framed glasses?

(And I TOTALLY want to be a hot blue chick running around half naked in a day-glow forest!!!!)

It’s a very well known fact that I cook, and I cook well. Very well in fact. I like fresh, I like aromatic, and I like bold.

However, even a hard core foodie craves a little grossness now & then and I just had my annual craving for a grease-fest. You know the kind- when you feel like you have to shower several times after eating…..

Don’t judge me.

Are these chest pains normal? Is it possible for your arteries to actually hurt?

Happy Birthday my love!

ps- Steve’s birthday isn’t actually until March 2nd but this arrived early and I lack that whole “patience” thing so I forced him to open it IMMEDIATELY. Oh, and having him bang away on this tonight while I’m trying to watch Grey’s Anatomy won’t be irritating at all. Really.

This afternoon, after my regular life chores like walking the dogs, buying the groceries and doing the dishes, I walked a block through the alley and sat on a greasy spoon diner patio in the crisp air, read The Walrus and drank a couple of beers. There were birds chirping.

It was pretty fucking excellent.

OK- I think we’re all pretty clear on my distrust of organized religion, right? No? Check here, here, here or here because I’m not sure that I could be any more clear on the subject. So……. I’ve decided that I will start a religion of my own.

It is a religion of DOG.

Think about it for a second. Religion is comprised of the following things; Faith, loyalty, love, honesty, the ability to see you through the most difficult of times, and wrath. Dog, rather than God, does all of these things willingly and with the constant visual proof that we logical humans require. I know- some of you are thinking that “We shouldn’t need proof” and yet, look at humanity- we clearly do. More wars and more blood shed and death have started over religious beliefs than any other cause on the face of this freaking planet. This type of carnage… it wouldn’t be accepted, let alone justified, by any god that I personally could fathom believing in.

And so, I bring you the religion of Dog.

Faith. Dog perspective; I with have faith in every single little thing that you do.  I will wait at the front door for your entire work day and I will Know without question that you will return. Knowing that I know this, you will always return.

Loyalty. Dog perspective; There is no circumstance that will cause me to be disloyal to you. It would simply never happen. Never ever, ever. I will champion every victory and I will lovingly console every defeat. I will never leave your side, or the comfy spot on the couch.

Love. Dog perspective; I will love you even when you are shitty and stupid and neglectful. I will love you always, even on the days when you don’t act as though you love me.

Honesty. Dog perspective; I am a dog. I don’t have the ability to lie and will always show you exactly what I am feeling. I will not hold any emotion back even if it is lust and I feel the need to hump your friend’s leg.

Seeing you through difficult times. Dog perspective; I will lay beside you while you cry, while you laugh, and while you are confused. I will be your rock and I will be unbending.

Wrath. Dog perspective; I don’t want to hurt you, I want to love you without question for the rest of my days. However, if you poke me with a stick or the heel of your boot enough times, I will rip your fucking face off.

So, debate me this people; Is not the religion of Dog more straight forward, more honest, and more true than anything us crappy human kind could ever make up? I have to say, I am far more willing to throw my soul to the religion of Dog than I am any current or past day religion of God in what ever form he may pop up in.

When it comes to the religion of Dog, there is no “wiggle room” or conflict in that which the message says. The religion of Dog is clear. The religion of Dog is the only one that truly makes sense to me.

Check me out! I look pretty fucking good for 40, don’t I? I know these green plaid shorts really aren’t in style anymore but I like to consider myself a bit of a trendsetter. And yes, that gorgeous blond is all natural. I think it’s the smoking and drinking that gives me such a youthful glow.

There really is no good reason for me posting this. I mean other than because I’m a bitch.

It is January 19 and for some freakishly weird reason it is flip flop weather here in the beautiful BC interior. No snow, blue sky and fucking flip flop weather. I’m not even exaggerating! I walked my dogs in a flimsy little summer cardigan this morning.

SWEET!

oh- and in case you were wondering (of course you were) I pulled an entire dump truck of stuff out of my mother’s house and it now looks lovely. Until next year.

And as us cool cats (Gray & I) are January babies, we had our own little birthday party during my week of minding that adorable crazy little man. Needless to say, he was wearing most of that blue icing when all was said & done.

As of tomorrow guess what I will be doing??!!

GUESS, DAMN YOU!

Fine. Be that way. I’ll tell you anyway though because I am FAR TO EXCITED TO CONTAIN MYSELF.

So…. as of tomorrow I have my squirming wiggling baby Gray all to myself until SATURDAY while his lovely parents are strolling around New York. Yes- me & the little man- learning new words and dramatic gestures to stun and anger thrill his parents upon their return.

But wait- there is more. While the wee one is in daycare I shall be cleaning up my lovely crazy mother’s house. (Think A & E’s “Hoarders” but with no emotional attachment to the billions of items, no dead animals and far more laughing.) I try to do it once a year but missed 2009 so who knows what kind of goodies I’ll find!!! I know- it doesn’t sound like fun to many but I dig it. My aunt has rented me a dumpster so clearly I mean fucking business.

Sigh. Baby Gray and organizing someone shit. It’s like the heavens opened up and are peeing tropical flavored skittles on to my upturned & smiling face.