Shittiest Day Ever…Literally

You ever have one of those days? You know…the kind where it doesn’t even seem like real life and if someone were to tell you what was going to go down you would never believe them?

That was today.

It started like any normal day…as they do at 9-months pregnant, with an internal at my OBGYN (which is SUPER fun) to check for any progress. From there, I had grand plans to go home, get some work done, do laundry and continue nesting.

However, I walked in to see our chihuahua in position to poop right there on my floor. I rushed him outside, with the grace of a hippo, and we made it just in time. Then when I put the little fucker down, he proceeded to puke all over the floor. Guess he traded one bodily function for another.

I texted Jason and he asked me to drop him at the vet. BTdubs, you should also know, that our other dog just came back from the vet yesterday after having ANOTHER surgery from tearing a second ACL in a month. We singlehandedly keep the vet in business and he’ll probably be able to retire 10 years earlier because of us. You’re welcome, doc.

So here I am, already deviating from my plan, and en route to the vet, when it happens. Spike (the chihuahua) pukes all over my seat…right between my legs, which are in a semi-permanent ajar position on account of my protruding belly.

I moved him over to the passenger seat and that’s when he began to shit his brains out…all over my seat…as I’m driving and simultaneously screaming. Because he wasn’t just expelling waste from his body, he was stepping in it, getting it in between every crevis of his tiny paws.

But wait, there’s more.

I put him in the backseat just praying for traffic to let up so I could get to the fucking vet and he then performs shitshow part deux ALL over the back seat, and then jumps on the center console and drops more between my seats. I’ve never seen so much poop come out of an 8lb dog.

At this point I am crying and dry-heaving. I pull over into a random office parking lot, call my husband and start speaking in tongues. I was 100% hysterical. Jason is no moron, heard my voice and left work immediately (probably because he was a little scared of my exorcist-level emotion…as he should have been at that moment).

As I waited for him, I tried to clean up with the travel-size packet of baby wipes I had in my car, gagging the whole time, and having cars pull up asking if I was ok. I’m guessing the scene of a very pregnant woman, outside her car, all doors open, with a dog on a leash and handfuls of shit-covered baby wipes, is cause for concern.

When Jason arrived, I passed that dog like a dirty fucking baton and peaced-out to the car wash. Obviously I had to drive with the windows open because of the smell, and as I was on the phone crying to my mother, what happens?? A bird, on a wire above the red light I was waiting at, took my cracked window as an open invitation to ALSO take a shit right on my headrest. I wish I was kidding. When I told my mom what was happening through my ugly crying, she was laughing so hard she could not form a coherent sentence and most definitely peed her pants.

At the carwash, I pulled up and they greeted me with the obligatory, “How’s your day?” They did not get the obligatory, “Great! How about you?” in return. What they did get was a rant about how my car was covered in dog puke and shit (did I mention my seats are perforated?) and I needed them to make it like brand new. They just stared at me…then at my belly…then at me again.

I had texted a couple friends about my current situation and one of them basically saved the day (at least for the 2+ hours my car was being detailed). Shirley came to get me so I wouldn’t have to wait.

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Friends pick you up in times of need. Good friends snap a picture of your misery.

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My spirits were IMMEDIATELY lifted just being in her presence, because she does shit like put our karaoke song on without missing a beat.

I accompanied her to the mall where she had some business to take care of, and also hoping that the walking would put me into labor. Almost from the moment we got there, I got looks from mall goers ranging from horrified to lascivious. I don’t know why there is a fear of very pregnant women in public, but there is.

In addition to the crowd ogling me like my baby was crowning, we also saw the usual onslaught of Boca’s finest carting their dogs in strollers. But today was different, because there was a woman pushing around a cat. A CAT, you guys. So naturally we had to follow her into the AT&T store for Shirley to covertly get a picture of her, because how do you not?!?

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When my husband called to check-in (read: make sure I wasn’t humming and rocking myself in a dark corner), I told him I might not come home and may either check myself into a mental ward or spa… game-time decision.

But instead, after Shirley sniff-inspected my newly washed car like McGruff the Crime Dog, I gave myself a small pat on the back  for supporting a local business…

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And said “Boy Bye” to shitmageddon.

Spike is currently on car probation until I emotionally heal.

Here’s to a brand new, shit-free day, tomorrow!

A Week of Dogs, Shoes, Wine and Food!

If you can’t already tell. I love all things food and wine. A lot.

So one of the biggest perks of making this little old blog my livelihood, instead of just a hobby, is that I get some invitations to events that revolve around two of my favorite things.

This week alone, I was fortunate enough to attend two local events which fit that bill.

On Sunday, I was in Palm Beach at Mar-a-Lago for the 3rd annual Women, Wine and Shoes event, to benefit the Big Dog Ranch Rescue. What made it even better was that I was able to be there to help one of my favorite companies I recently became familiar with, One Hope Wine. You might remember them from a previous post about a tasting in my home, and their to-die-for glitter bottles.

But let me tell you more about what went on at Mar-a-Lago! There were dogs there dressed better than some of Palm Beaches’ Finest.

Don’t believe me?

This happened and it was glorious.

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The sold out event featured world-class wineries, luxurious boutiques, Extravagant Live Auction Items, A Doggy Fashion Show and Couture Fashion Show, plus Glamorous Swag Bags valued at over $500.

There was even some eye-candy walking around with gorgeous shoes by Marchesa, on a silver platter (well-played by the event organizers, Ticket2Events).

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And I got to ogle the beautiful Tamara Mellon stunners sitting in the booth behind me, in between pouring delish One Hope wine for attendees.

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(Seriously, I might give up an organ for these beauts)

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And in the end, the event raised $850,000 for the Big Dog Ranch Rescue, whose mission is to  give the gift of life to as many dogs as humanly possible, and enrich the lives of those who adopt them!

How amazing is that???

Then, yesterday, I attended a media lunch at Thasos Greek Taverna in Fort Lauderdale. Chef Athinagoras Kostakos from Bill & Coo hotel in Mykynos prepared a special tasting menu and discussed modern Greek Cuisine. We also were able to sample Greek Mastiha (that’s liquor, people) from Ambrosia Group/ FOS.

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The dishes were as delicious as they were beautiful to look at. And I even put my big girl panties on and tried lamb for the first time ever. You may be rolling your eyes but just know that is a BIG deal for me.

 

So let me just make sure you understand. Yesterday…for my job…I got to go to an awesome local restaurant and eat a delicious meal prepared by a chef visiting from Mykonos.

My god did I make the right decision leaving a miserable job!

Stay tuned for more Whine & Cheez(its) event posts and if you ever want to feed me delicious food and wine, you know where to find me 😉

xx

Rachel

C*&kblocked by a Chihuahua

Like many couples, we celebrated Valentine’s Day with a dinner out. We went a little early to beat the crowds, avoid the hoopla and be back home early enough to climb into bed and watch Shameless. The makings of a perfect Valentine’s Day…for us.

The universe however, had different plans.

Perhaps some of the mishaps at dinner could have been viewed as foreshadowing, but we were enjoying the company of our friends who joined us too much to care. I mean, there were enough red flags to send anyone’s radar up.

We went to a newish steakhouse/fondue place that has been getting good reviews so we were optimistic (I give it a year tops before it closes). But after we waited like 10-15 mins for our table (with a reservation) in an EMPTY restaurant, things started to snowball and fast. Here’s a brief highlight reel.

*Ordered a bottle of wine listed on the menu. “Sorry we don’t have it. Only by the glass tonight.”

“But if you have it by the glass can’t we just buy the bottle?”

“We only have 2 glasses left but I can offer you this bottle (note: more than double the          bottle we asked for).

“Forget it…we’ll just take the two glasses.”

* Ordered cheese fondue that literally looked as if it was the leftover uneaten portion from another table. Then the burner went out which made the already measly portion congeal.

*We got our meal 20 mins before our friends and didn’t eat it because we’re not assholes. On top of that, it was cold when it arrived at the table. So that had to go back and we finally got sloppy plates back 20 mins after our friends got their meal. Gordon Ramsay would have been PISSED!

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*Then another burner on our friend’s fondue went out leaving their food soaking in a vat of cold broth.

There were a handful of other mishaps but I just can’t keep going. It was frustrating to say the least but I will say the manager did the right thing and profusely apologized, comped part of the meal and gave us dessert. However, we will not be back.

So we head home feeling a little ahead of the game that we didn’t overpay for a mediocre dinner shrouded in a shitty experience.

And then walk in to one of our two dogs (the Chihuahua) greeting us with a giant red balloon looking situation on his undercarriage. It was like the Franks & Beans scene from Something About Mary.

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Jason immediately Googles “My chihuahua’s penis is swollen like a balloon, what do i do? (I love the interwebs). And apparently based on the search results, this is a thing. Most common advice given was to ice it.

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ICE ICE BABY

So we did, while Jason called the vet who told us to come in ASAP before it got worse. All I could think was, it could get worse?!?!

Thankfully it was empty so we got seen right away, but here’s the thing about emergency vets. They really know how to eff you. They took him in back and told us it would be a pretty easy fix. We were there for a looooonnnng time though.

The doc comes out and starts to give us a detailed account of how she used KY Jelly and pain meds to “manually manipulate his penis back into place”. I was dry heaving and feeling the mediocre fondue come up. (We  surmised that he had his own plans for valentine’s day and most likely humped his bed so hard he broke his penis.)

She then utters, “Did you notice he has a hernia?” and starts poking around his tush showing us where there is “most likely impacted bowel” and other things that we need to spend money on “right away”. (BTW, the dog is healthy, functional and fine, but both times Jason has taken the dogs to this particular vet they list a million things that are wrong and possible diseases they have. It’s unreal.)

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WHAT’S MORE ROMANTIC THAN SPENDING VALENTINE’S EVE FILLING OUT CONSENT FORMS TO HAVE YOUR PUP’S PENIS PUT BACK IN PLACE?

Finally we get to the front desk to check out and the tech says, “That will be $250”

“What?$?$? Two fifty for a doggie handy? We could have gotten him 10 at the nondescript “massage” (read: happy ending) place down the street on Federal Highway.

She proceeds to read us the breakdown of the bill.

$100 for the visit (fine)

$40 for the lube (it’s a Chihuahua penis! I’m pretty sure $40 worth of lube in one shot is not even possible on a human penis.)

$40 for the injection to help with pain/numbing (so he didn’t even get to enjoy the happy ending he received?)

$30ish for the dextrose that apparently helps the swelling to get it back in (guys, that’s basically sugar. Next time his junk will be shoved in a bag of sugar at home that costs $3.99)

$30ish for the pin-sized dot of antibiotic ointment (FML)

Oh and $12 for the cone of shame (You really couldn’t throw in that piece of shit cone after the $40 you upcharged us for puppy penis lube?)

cone

CONE OF SHAME

And if I had to hear the woman at check out say “penis” one more time I was going to lose it. I am done talking about it. Can we please just leave???

We were finally home in bed a little after midnight and couldn’t even stay up to watch Shameless.

And that my friends is how we got cockblocked by a chihuahua on Valentine’s Day

 

 

The Qtip Incident

I’m an independent girl. I have always savored alone time. When I traveled for work I reveled in having an entire hotel room to myself and even enjoying some solo meals. I LOVE having a partner, but I’m not a clingy, let’s do everything together kind of person.

I’m just not that girl.

Post-divorce I lived for 3 years with just my daughter and got very used to that routine. But obviously with impending nuptials comes cohabitation. So the time came for SLS to move into the house. And I was equal parts excited and freaked out. He’s wonderful and amazing and so very good to me, so it had nothing to do with him. But it’s very hard when you get used to YOUR space, to learn how to share it again.

Frankly, I really wanted him to just throw everything he owned out (most of it I hated anyway) and come to the living situation with his clothes…like a hobo with one of those stick/bag thingys. But obviously that’s not reality.

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I’m not as Type A as my mother who balks at throw pillows and refuses to keep toilet paper in plain site, but I absolutely like order and a tidy home. I make my bed minutes after getting out of it. Rarely do I leave dishes in the sink and never will you find my clothes on the floor. I like things the way I like them.

So SLS moved in the weekend I was away with my girlfriends for #Rachelorette. It wasn’t planned that way on purpose, but it was definitely best for everyone. You see, having moved in almost a month before, I was completely settled and the idea of going through it again made my chest tight. I (half)jokingly told SLS to call me before he put anything away and begged him to please make sure the collateral damage was minimal when I walked back in on Sunday afternoon.

He’s a little bit scared of me so he lovingly obliged and he really did a phenomenal job. There were maybe 2 unpacked boxes but everything else was put away.

And then I lost it…over something ridiculous.

I was putting away my stuff from the weekend and when I opened the bottom bathroom vanity drawer, I saw it. A tattered plastic bag with cheap, generic Qtips – the kind that basically bend the second you touch them to your ear. I lost my cookies. Seriously. Snotty, ugly crying which prompted SLS to come in the bedroom to see what was wrong.

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As I sat there on the edge of the bed barely able to get the words out through my tears and anxiety, I heard myself talking and I knew it sounded insane.

“And I opened the drawer and your stupid cheap Qtips are just thrown in there on top of all my stuff and I can’t take it!!!!!!!”

One thing about SLS is that he basically has a PHd in handling my Rachelness. He looked at me (clearly trying not to laugh), stood up, retrieved his dumb Qtips and threw them out immediately. He did this knowing it was never about the Qtips. It doesn’t take a professional to realize that I was having a freak out about actually having to share my space, that manifested in a tantrum over generic ear swabs (which beeTDubs, SLS, if you ever by those again you’re in trouble).

The Qtip incident was the culmination of all of my fear and anxiety about a MAJOR life change.

I went from having a little routine with me and a 6yr old, to living with a man and his two dogs. At 38 years old, it’s not such an easy feat to change gears like that. It’s a HUGE change, and while a wonderful milestone, you’re kidding yourself if you think it doesn’t throw you for a loop.

And the freak out didn’t end there. Already on edge from the previous night, when I walked in the very next day after a long day at work with an exhausted child who still needed to do homework, eat dinner and be bathed, I was effing livid to find that the Chihuahua (who I already kind of hate for a lot of reasons…he may be cute but he can be a major asshole) marked his territory on my brand new wood floors and brand new dining room table leg. While I would NEVER harm an animal, I have never wanted to punt something across the effing yard so bad.

I grew up with dogs my whole life but something happened to me when I had a child. And I don’t hate dogs now, but I just don’t have patience for the responsibility that comes along with a dog (and now I have TWO).

I tried to take deep breaths, and to channel George Castanza – SERENITY NOW!!! But they were futile attempts.

It’s got to get easier, right? I mean it’s Week 1.

No. Such. Luck.

That little shit gave me a 1-day reprieve before he took a turn on the other dining room table leg. I seriously turned into the HULK, bulging veins and all. I was so beyond mad that I probably could have broken a wooden plank with one punch. I sent SLS a rage-filled text detailing my thoughts on viable options on how to deal with this, poured myself a glass of wine and gave the dog bitch-face dirty looks until SLS got home.

He shortly thereafter contacted a trainer and we are in the process of trying to de-assholeify the dog.

Another good part about my relationship with SLS, is that we are solid. So even despite these anxiety-inducing instances, there’s never a question in my mind that we are forever. (There is however a question in my mind if the Chihuahua will have the privilege of remaining an inside dog or if he himself will don a price tag for our garage sale. Until then, the little shit has to be crated until a trainer can get him with the program.)

It’s interesting how your perspective changes with age and life experiences. When you are young and naive, you think all of these life moments are going to play out like fairly tales. But that’s not life. THIS is life. The craziness, the chaos, the clumps of dog hair I find blowing around like small tumbleweeds across my beautiful bamboo floors. It’s real and it’s mine and I wouldn’t trade it for anything…except maybe a dog that DOESN’T pee in my house and bark when the wind blows.

Thank god SLS is worth it.