Voice-over Work

From the day Apple became part of our family, Mike and I have done this thing that I'm just starting to realize not all pet owners do.  When one of us asks Apple a question, the other will answer as Apple's voice-over.  Describing it now makes me realize how strange that actually makes us, but what's even stranger is that it wasn't something that came up gradually, it just automatically happened. 

Usually her voice-over is influenced by whatever animated shows we're watching at the moment.  The first voice that naturally came out as Apple's inner voice was South Park's Eric Cartman. Although there's a gender and species discrepancy, this is the voice and inner attitude that returns most often when we're talking for Apple.  Her voice-over has also had stints as Henchman 21 and Dermott Fictel from the Venture Bros. and Special Sister Mary from Lucy, Daughter of the Devil (voiced by Eugene Mirman.) Right now, we're having moments of Tina from Bob's Burgers squeak into the rotation (voiced by Dan Mintz.... we've never been able to get any actual girl voices into our girl dog's inner voice) especially when Apple is being awkward.

Apple's voiceover is 1% lovin', 99% attitude.  Yes.  She's a bitch.  Literally.  But also figuratively.  Some sample conversations we've had:


In her "NPR Cartman" voice


Scene: Apple sees me throwing out chicken bones and cleaning out the roasting pan and is suddenly interested in what I'm doing in the kitchen.
Apple:  Hey mom, what... what are you doing?
Me:  None of this is for you.
Apple:  No, that's coo.  I'm just.  I just love you so much.  And you know, chicken.
Me: You can't eat this.
Apple: But maaaaaaaaaawwwwm.
Me: Don't lick the trash can.
Apple:  I hate you.  So very. Very. Much.


In her "Angry Cartman" voice.



Scene:  Mike got out of bed for 3 minutes to run to the restroom.  Apple immediately moved to his spot and is snuggling up next to his pillow so he can't get back in bed.
Mike:  Apple, really?
Apple:  Suck it, dad.
Mike:  No, Apple, you need to move.
Apple: Whateva, I do what I want.  You're not the boss of me.
Mike pushes Apple out of his spot.
Apple: I just want to say: I love you guys, I do... except you Dad.  I hate you.

Scene: Mike and I are downstairs sitting on the couch watching TV.  Apple is upstairs.  Alone.  Not hanging out with us.
Me: "Apple!  Come down here and hang out with us!" 
Apple runs out of the bedroom and stares at us from the top of the stairs.
Me:  "Apple!  Come here!  Snuggle!!!"
Apple:  "I'm busy.  Damn hippies."
Apple turns around and runs back to the bedroom 

In her "Special Sister Mary" voice
(there's a video... if you can't see it, here's the link: http://video.adultswim.com/lucy-the-daughter-of-the-devil/holy-crap-no.html )

Scene:  We're trying to put Apple's harness on so we can go outside.
Mike:  Apple, come here.
Apple:  Uhm.  No.
Mike:  Come here.
Apple:  Uhm. No thanks. You guys go without me.  I'm cool.
She runs back upstairs and puts herself in her crate.

Scene:  Apple is sitting on Mike's chest.  In bed.  At 1 AM.  STARING at his face.
Apple:  Uhm.  Dad?
Mike:  No.
Apple: Uhm.  Dad... I have to pee.
Mike:  No.  I just took you outside 15 minutes ago.  And all you did was bark at the air.
Apple:  Fine. I hope you enjoy the surprise turd I leave in your closet tonight.  Sleep tight.
Mike closes his eyes.
Apple slaps him.  With her paw.  She actually does that.
Apple: Take me outside or I will cut you.

So 4 years now we've been doing this... and we do it automatically.  It's gotten worse.  Recently, when other people ask Apple questions, we'll instinctively respond.  For example the following exchange happened at my birthday party when Apple met one of our friends for the first time:

Colin: Hi Apple! You sure are a cutie pie!
Apple looks at him and deftly avoids a gentle pat on the head scooting past him.  I provide the voice over without thinking twice.
Apple:  Yah buddy, I got shiz to do and crap on the floor to eat.  No time to chat.
Colin looks at me silently.  He blinks.  I explain that I'm insane.

We've also started doing this for babies.  Which makes things more troubling because Mike and I seem to assume that all babies have the same attitude as Apple and many parents don't agree with our foul mouth interpretations of their darling child's inner thoughts.  Most people put cute things into the mouths of speechless babes, but when we see babies, they're little smack talkers.

So far we have yet to meet anyone that does what we do.  People seem to imagine inner voices for their pets, but none of them actually have conversations with those inner voices.  So that either means that both Mike and I are insane, or insanely awesome.  Win win.  

Doppelganger Dream Theater

My husband might literally be the nicest person in the world.  Yes.  Literally.  He is so nice to everyone all the time. He’s even nice when I’m being annoying.  And I am annoying a lot.  I haven’t met everyone in the world yet, so I could be wrong… and he’s no saint, but when it comes to being nice, he’s at the top of the nice list.

Which makes it odd when I have dreams like the one I had two nights ago.

Dreams where my Mike is mean to me. 

I’ve had them at least once every six months since we’ve been together – so going on 8 years now.  And, because Mike is so nice, he actually feels guilty about the actions of Mean Dream Mike and desperately tries to find some way to make it up to me for his evil dream twin. When I tell real life Mike about my dreams, he seriously feels bad about it and apologizes! 

The subject varies, but it’s always ridiculous.  This most recent dream was one where Mean Dream Mike bought a house and paid cash because he wanted to live in a house separate from me and not pay for the mortgage.  I sobbed hysterically and he tried to calm me by saying “I don’t want a divorce; I just don’t want to live with you.”   SO MEAN! RIGHT!?

Another time I had a dream that we were at a party and he kept making fun of the stories I was telling, so I threw my punch in his face and ran and cried in another room.  Another one I remember was that he went on vacation… WITHOUT TELLING ME!

SO MEAN!!!! 

(And also, I cry a lot in my dreams. Wah wah wah)

Why do I do this?  Why do I dream that he’s mean to me?  I never dream that he cheats on me, or that he physically abuses me, but I totally dream up scenarios where he’s such a mean guy!  In the morning, I’m so relieved to discover that nice Mike is real life Mike that I’m overcome with joy and want to hug and kiss him to death and make sure he never leaves my side.    Is it because his real life persona is so nice that my subconscious has to make up for it by making him evil in my dreams? 

Why can’t I dream that he’s a superhero and then be able to tell him about that in the morning? He would be so pumped instead of depressed!  Usually when I dream about superheroes, it’s just me with the awesome skills.  Come on sub-conscious, cut the husband a break… how about cranking out an awesome superhero dream for Mike sometime?

Soooo...

Yah.

Um.  Happy New Year?

I sure showed NaBloPoMo who was boss... not only did I stop blogging half way through November, but I totally ignored my blog through December and I'm about half way through January and I considered not blogging just to be stubborn.

But then I decided, maybe not.

I have been busy. And actually, it involves writing and watching cartoons for a legitimate purpose... so now you can't judge me.  This whole development is still in it's infancy, so I won't discuss it much just yet but it is exciting nevertheless.

I won't bother to do a recap of what transpired in the last 8 weeks or so.  I'd rather it remain enigmatically surrounded by mystery and sex appeal.  You can come up with your own theories and discuss the exciting unknown events of D in December and it will totally be a hotbed of intrigue like Agatha Christie's 1926 disappearance.

Speaking of Agatha Christie - I've started watching Doctor Who.  And by started, I mean I've finished all 5 series of the relaunch on Netflix and I eagerly await the upcoming new season.  So that was awesome.

I need to start an organization.  I'll call it Nerd Scouts.  You'd get a uniform and a hat and a sash and you collect badges in your Nerd Troop.   For example, if you're a Nerdie, you're the lowest level nerd and you make Star Wars light sabers out of popsicle sticks and Star Trek insignia patches out of macaroni that you give to your parents as a thank you for letting you live in their basement at 35.

As you go up in the ranks of the Nerd Scouts, you collect badges - I probably would have just received my Tardis Badge for catching up to Doctor Who in under 2 weeks, but my Nerd Scout superior who has earned the rank of Elf Scout carries a bow and arrow that he earned at his LOTR ceremony and a Dalek Badge for having seen every episode of Doctor Who since 1963. The badge earning possibilities are practically unlimited!


Once a year, we'd sell Nerd Scout Cheesy Poofs (nerd snack of choice) in flavors like, White Cheddar, Burninating The Universe Spicy and Classic Orange and suggest flavors of Shasta to compliment with the sole purpose of collecting enough funds to make it to our annual scout jamboree in San Diego aka. ComicCon.

Seriously, doesn't it just sound super awesome?! Who's in!?

The Official Statement

All I have to really say on the subject is: screw you NaBloPoMo.  You are not the boss of me. Truly, the very idea of NaBloPoMo goes against everything this blog stands for and I decided it was high time to fight back with non-violent protest.

Yeah.

I haven't blogged at all this week.  Mostly because I was busy with being alive off the internet.  Or because sometimes I forgot.  Both things are legit when we're talking about procrastination skills.

On the bright side, Friday is just around the corner.  And on Saturday I'm getting my nails done which will probably inspire me to write a blog about how much I love my nail salon.  Because I love them.

After the weekend comes 2.5 days of labor and then VACATION!  So YAY!

Also, last night I had a dream that Mike and I bought a big tacky house with a yard and we brought Apple over and she morphed into a hot pink stuffed animal and kept climbing up the walls and fences like a monkey - and then she slipped out of the door of our new house and she ran up the side of the fence and hopped in a tree.  I had to climb up the tree to get Apple - the barking wiggly stuffed toy.

When I woke up and saw the real Apple, I was confused because she wasn't pink and made of cotton and polyester.  It was really strange that I expected to see a living stuffed animal toy in Apple's place and it threw me off for a while.

I think my mind is still in dreamland.

 

(photo courtesy of Flickr user: .Purf)

Dog V. Pillow

No time to really blog tonight... but I'm sticking to the one blog post per day for NaBloPoMo as well as I possibly can, so I present 1:32 minutes of Apple digging into a pillow.

She had skin allergies so we had to put a spray on her stomach area to calm her itchies.  This is how she reacted (and how she reacts to freshly washed bedding, eating a tasty snack and other random things... it entertains me, but she's my dog, so practically everything she does entertains me.)

Have a great weekend! :)

The White Stuff

I love mayonnaise. The really quality stuff... it makes almost everything taste better and  I feel like a good chunk of the world is with me on this one. I eat it in moderation only because of the potential health issues related to indulging in it too much. I think as a condiment, mayonnaise is under appreciated in the US and more disastrously, Mike HATES mayonnaise.

It's become a joke when I'm preparing a sandwich for him (or an artichoke, or tuna salad or egg salad or veggie dip, or...)  I'll ask "would you like mayo?" as I scoop it onto my delicious sandwich.  And he'll reply, "horf" and begin gagging.  I haven't tried to convert him - he's so repulsed by it that I don't think there's any way I could do anything to convince him how tasty mayonnaise can be and part of me just believes he must be lacking a certain part of his brain that really gets the awesome of a good mayo.

Part of it is mental - he can enjoy a well cooked dip or meal enhanced by the taste of mayo and it's not until the moment he sees the empty jar of mayonnaise in the trash bin that he can no longer enjoy the food he was scarfing only moments ago.

I'm tempted to make my own mayo and from reading recipes it seems really easy but I'm sure I'd probably manage to mess it up. Anyone have a killer recipe?  A delicious aoli?

I dislike a lot of foods and condiments, but I don't think any of them repulse me the way that Mike is repulsed by mayo.  I really (REALLY) hate peas... but I love split pea soup - it's a pea texture not a pea taste thing.  Maybe the closest thing I've got is olives.  Mike can eat olives like they're candy.  I have tried time and time again to like them without success.  I'll take a bite and really try to enjoy that greasy squishy dirt taste that Mike seems to love so much but it doesn't click.  How can olive oil taste so wonderful when the fruit it's born from tastes like mud goo?  It doesn't connect for me.  Tapenades make my tongue twitch and a stray olive on a slice of pizza makes me lose interest in finishing the rest of my meal (ok, I'm exaggerating... I'm  really good at eating around them.) So I suppose on a small scale I can relate, but it's a very very small scale.  A miniature scale... for dollhouses.

Blog 2. Woo Hoo.

Before I went on our trip to Iceland I was going to the gym 5 days a week.  F.I.V.E.  Never in my life would I have expected to go to the gym 5 days in a row, but I was doing it, for months... and for a while there, I was actually really enjoying it.

After Iceland (in August) I haven't been able to get my act together and have maybe gone to the gym a total of 8 times. Something happened and now I can barely make it 20 minutes working out without my brain screaming "THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG!!!!"  My body remembers the workout, it's not too fatigued and getting back up to my old pace isn't hard... my brain just refuses to get on board with the plan.

I work out at a really small gym - there are at most 4 other people working out there at the same time as I am.  The cardio machines each have their own TV with DirectTV satellite which used to be enough to keep my brain distracted long enough for me to get in a solid hour of cardio or weight training.

It no longer does the trick.  I can find a boring TV show or rerun to distract me as I work out in the evenings, but as soon as a commercial comes on my brain starts fidgeting and saying "I want pudding", "I want to watch something else", "I could be sleeping", "I bet things are more fun anywhere but here." Once the gym-brain fidget starts I can't get it to stop even when the commercial break is over.

I've resorted to bringing a portable DVD player - which does the trick... for now.  I've been bringing TV on DVD, so I know I can watch either a 2 episodes of a good comedy or 1 drama and get through my cardio work out without fidget brain turning on.  Thanks to this, I've been able to get back up to 3 days a week. 

Now the problem is weight training... bored in 3,2,1... ADHD GYM BRAIN ON THE LOOSE.  My brain starts saying "I don't wanna lift that", "I don't wanna move over there", "I don't wanna do pull-ups."

I can't watch DVDs while I'm weight training but moving a lot does nothing to calm my reluctant brain and my brain has memorized 90% of my work-out motivating music on my Mp3 player so I spend half of the time cycling through the music to find something the brain actually wants to hear.

Maybe what I need is a virtual world game...where I'm, I don't know, battling hoards of mutant alien badgers with a 25lb sword for an hour and in the process doing weight training.  Quick.  Someone.  Invent that for me - the gym-brain waits for no one.

OH EM GEE

I forgot to blog yesterday! 

Dang.  Grocery shopping and pacific standard time and HYMIM and new Conan... it all messed with my head and I forgot!

I'll blog twice today.  And my second blog will be awesome.  Or maybe it will be below average.  I can't make any promises.

In reparation I offer you this:

http://gawker.com/5685128/is-beer-the-reason-any-of-us-are-alive-right-now

and this:

http://damnyouautocorrect.com/


Forgive me.

Sunday

Being that Sunday is the day before a Monday, I find it hard to do much of anything.  My goal on most Sundays is to make it to Church and then do as little as possible for the remainder of the day.  Mostly I end up wallowing in my dread of Monday.  I know that most people agree that Blue Laws originated to enforce religious standards, but I might argue that Blue Laws were put into place by people who hate Mondays so much that they wanted an excuse to not have to do anything on a Sunday. 

Sure, I need to go grocery shopping, and it would probably be more convenient for me to do it now than it would be to go after work on Monday, but it's Sunday... and I'd rather not do anything.  Without Blue Laws, you might call me a lazy slacker, but if I lived in an area that still had Blue Laws, you'd look at me and be like, wow... she's great.  She can't shop on a Sunday because the grocery store is closed so she's willing to do it on Monday after a long day's work.  Give her a pony.

I've always wanted a pony.

Although, Blue Law would mean I'd have to assemble my own lunch today... which is not something I like to do on Sundays.  So, I guess I'll forgo the pony and let you call me a lazy slacker every Sunday.  Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some wallowing to do.

The Vet

We took Apple to the vet this morning for her regular check up and to get her up to date with her travel certificates since we'll probably be taking her with us when we head out to Chicago later this month.  

She's a funny dog.  Every time we go to the vet,  she knows the direction we're going but doesn't know until we get there that we're not going to the bark park  -  they're in the same direction about 2 minutes away from one another.

Even when we pull into the parking lot that is so obviously not the bark park, she  seems to recognize the outside and gets excited, whiny and wiggly and she begs to get out of the car.  She'll drag us on the leash towards the front door but as soon as we open it and step inside,  it all comes rushing back to her:

"wait.. this....THIS IS WHERE THEY PUT THINGS IN MY BUTT!"

We walk up to the front desk as she is now pulling on her leash in the opposite direction - trying to get back out towards the door  from whence we came - half obsessed with the other dogs in the waiting room, but more preoccupied with getting the eff out of that office.  

This is why it requires both Mike and I to take Apple, a 9lb dog, to the vet.  One to wrangle her and one to take care of business. While I'm checking in, Mike is dragging Apple to the waiting room.  Apple fidgets and whines - we imagine she's trying to reason with us at this point:

"Seriously guys.  We can go home now.  We're cool.  Let's just go before anyone notices we were even here.  But before we do that, can we just go over there and sniff that Pug's butt - just real quick and then we can just get out of here.  OK, fine.  I don't need to smell that Pug's butt.  Let's just go.  See.  I make sacrifices, you make sacrifices.  Let's go."

When the vet assistant comes out to get us, we walk Apple back to the weigh station and give her the command to get up onto the scale.  She obeys the command instinctively only to realize that as soon as she steps onto the scale she has now willingly participated in her vet appointment.  This sends her into a panic and she jumps off the scale of doom.   We put her back on - a whopping 9.8lbs - she's gained .8lbs.   Piggy.

We're directed to the room where she'll get her check up and the vet assistant takes her temperature by thermometer... in the butthole.  This is the funniest part (for me) because Apple doesn't move.  She's frozen solid. Her eyes go wide and they roll sideways to look at the vet assistant without moving her head.

"W. T. F."

The rest of the appointment goes normally with Apple leaning as far away from the vet as possible, but she's good - no snarling or snapping no matter how much they poke and prod her.  Every time the vet or his assistant would leave the room to get something, she'd  immediately rush towards the door, scratch and then look back at Mike and me:

"Ok guys, now's our chance... they won't notice if we leave now."

The vet comes back with Apple's bordetella vaccine - which is a spray in the nostril.  Apple sneezes dog snot all over my arm right after it's applied and gives us all a look:

"Oh god.  What was that... that was..."

This look becomes a glare as she realizes...

"You did this to me.  You two. "

At this point, she's stopped her little nervous shake because obviously her anxiety has been replaced with animus. Her evil Eric Cartman inner voice has returned.

"I hate you so very very much."

The vet's assistant brings out a really good treat - the kind where on any other day of the week Apple would have scarfed it before anyone had a chance to take it from her.  Apple turns her nose up at the offering.  The vet's assistant tells me I should try.  Apple looks at me:

" You are dead to me."

We hand Apple off to get her nails clipped while we go back out to pay up and pick up flea meds, etc.  When she comes back in the arms of the vet's assistant 3 minutes later, she's happy as a clam.  She knows it's all over and she is totally pumped to see us again.  God bless dogs.

She still wants out, but since I've got to wait for certificates and vaccination records, I tell Mike to just take her outside.  He does.  And she's back in about a minute.  Thus begins the final ritual at the vet - the Apple in, Apple out walk-a-thon.  

I've still got to pay up and Apple wants out.  So Mike takes her out.  As soon as she's out,  she pees a smidge and realizes I'm not outside and wants back in.  As soon as she's in, she realizes THIS IS WHERE THEY PUT THINGS IN MY BUTT! and wants out.  As soon as she's out, she pees a smidge, realizes I'm again inside and wants back in.  This goes on and on until I've finally finished things up - so maybe 10 minutes of Mike walking in and out of the door... with tiny tinkles between.    

So now we're back and I've got to figure out how to give a dog that is only occasionally food-motivated an oral tablet.   A piece of cheese just doesn't cut it.  I've even hidden tablets in bits of chicken only to find the chicken abandoned on the carpet minutes later and her tiny face watching it from under the bed.  She knows it's evil.  She knows there's medicine in it. 

Her favorite human food treat is scrambled eggs which she doesn't get very often... so I'm giving that a shot.  

Apple, you are one spoiled dog.