Breaking news: Cardiogirl Manor now includes a dog

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I have amazed myself. I really didn’t think that was possible — not because I’m amazing — because I am a black and white thinker muddling about in a gray world.

I have never been a dog person, in fact, I’ve written numerous posts about not liking dogs.

I’ve slammed the woman who walks her dog, who I’ve named Nigel, without a leash and I wrote an open letter to the dog behind us who barked non-stop.

Then there was the person who picked up his (or her) dog’s crap and then dumped it — just the loose crap — in my garbage can located on the side of my house behind a chain link fence.

After I wrote quite a few posts I realized it’s the dog crap that I despise and not so much the dog. And I’ve really missed having a cat in the house but since all three of my kids are allergic to cats I can’t have one until they all move away.

I can’t wait that long so in desperation I went to Petco for a teddy bear hamster. Thankfully they were out of rodents at the time but a woman who worked at the store told me there are a few breeds of dogs that are hypoallergenic.

That sliver of hope sent me straight to the Humane Society where they only had very big dogs that freaked me out. However, I did learned that there was a small dog kickin’ it at the Animal Welfare Society one city over. We met, he was cool, he was small and he did not bark.

I told the chick at that place to hold that dog because I wanted my kids to play with him for an hour or so to see if they were allergic to him.

Two hours later the clouds parted and the angels sang for we had acquired our very first dog — Senor Paco. He does bark now, but only when something moves, like a squirrel or a leaf, so that’s not too bad, right? He also likes to Zen out (as evidenced in the photo to the left) and he performs yoga daily preferring both downward dog and upward facing dog.

It’s awesome and he’s fabulous. Viva la canine! And, I guess, never say never.

Chihuahua Min Pin mix, Min Pin, Chihuahua

The one million spam march

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I have not been in my dashboard for such a long time that WordPress is actually holding a grudge against me. Even though I click the box that says, “Remember me,” it won’t.

I’ve also implored Chrome and Firefox to remember my password but it looks like they’re being passive-aggressive as well. Perhaps it’s time to suck up to my own blog as it has been hitting below the belt: It’s been fighting me on inserting my beloved Converse at the top of each post and that is totally unacceptable. I brought you into this world, blog, and I can take you right out of it, pal.

Forgive me blog, for I have sinned. It’s been too many months since I have given you the attention you deserve. I know my presence has been sketchy and I know I am still reluctant to commit to regular posting, but I am a work in progress.

Please accept my sincerest apology and meet me in the middle. Amen.

So I noticed an impressive statistic in my dashboard today. Akismet has caught 884,440 spam comments and now I want to reach one million. I have no idea what my spam-to-real-comment ratio is but if I’m going to reach my goal I’m going to have to commit to blogging, aren’t I?

I will not stack the deck, since I’m not sure how to do that, but I may throw the word spam around in the future just to see if it pushes me over 900,000. And if any of you want to help me reach my goal I would look the other way if you felt the need to throw two or more links into your comments.

Good day and good spamming.

Here’s a classic example of learning from someone else’s mistake

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I have to say, hopping back into the blogging world is not like riding a bike. I can’t think of another analogy right now so I’m going with that one. I can’t get my balance, my knees are skinned and bloodied (ugh, more blood to wash out of my pants) and I just barely avoided a closed-head injury trying to get this post up and running but I’m putting my feet on the pedals, gingah.

Okay, I love Investigation Discovery (ID); true crime is my thing, man. Occasionally I worry that the FBI is going to run across the list of library books I’ve checked out over the years and descend upon my house like hot lava spewing from Mount Vesuvius. But now I have cable and I can get my fix away from prying eyes. And I have learned boatloads, baby.

I’ve always known it’s a bad idea to wear shoes with a distinctive tread pattern. (See Exhibit 1.)

Converse low tops

Exhibit 1

Converse are a particularly bad choice since the tread pattern — while awesomely designed — offers too much information.

The center of the sole lists the brand name and the size, for crying out loud. If I’m doing the crime I’m going to make the CSI team work for it. I want an hour or two of lead time while they decide what size they’re looking for. So this one is Evidence Tampering 101.

However, recently I stumbled upon an advanced course — Evidence Tampering 437 — on ID. There was a guy who killed his wife by hiding out in the snow to ambush her. Since he knew he was going to leave footprints he bought two pairs of shoes — moccasins for comfort and shit kicker boots for obscurity.

Then he used his handy jig saw to cut the sole of the boots off so he could glue them onto the sole of the mocs. Genius! But he went wrong in his execution.

He used four types of industrial glue (I don’t know why he chose four, perhaps he’s anal retentive and wanted to make sure it stuck) which left tell-tale residue on the sole of the moccasins. He did remove the boot soles — and cut each one into four pieces — but he kept the moccasins! Mistake number one.

The cops did not find glue in the house, however, they did find pieces of the boot soles scattered throughout the house. Mistake number two.

When all of the pieces were found, the CSI guy went humpty dumpty (successfully) to create two boot soles which matched the footprints.

Come on, dude. Excellent idea merging two different soles and then cutting them off. But you should have thrown those suckers away in a dumpster located out of the state you live in.

Lastly, get rid of the mocs. I don’t care how comfy they are, ditch ‘em. Go buy a new pair if they’re that awesome but buy them with cash.

I don’t remember if that was all they had on him or not, but I was impressed with his ingenuity until he hid the soles in the house. You know they’re going to get a search warrant.

So today’s true crime lesson is: learn from someone else’s mistake.

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