Tuesday, February 5, 2013

The Spasm Sausage

Is that a walnut whip?

This morning my dog had a violent seizure and shit himself in my car. I'm no clairvoyant but I'm guessing most of you didn't have a similar start to the day. Granted mine didn't start at 8.45am. I'd been up and active well before that. But the first real public act of the day was for me to put my daughter on the school bus and then chuck my son in the car so that we could get to Aldi when it opened. I blame my wife for this. My wife suffers from a disease that apparently millions worldwide suffer from as well. That being that her ravenous appetite for food that is very bad for you escalates at a synchronous rate to how much exercise she engages in. It's not a, "I've done that so I deserve this" equation either. It's more primal than using actual reasoning. Instead it's as if her body is yelling at her for sweating out all that salt and sugar so demands she stuff her face with potato chips, gummy worms and cookies. 

Ironically when she tends to suffer most from this I seem to not buy crap. It just works out that way. Also I loathe the flavor chips she likes and vice versa. On top of that I don't eat candy and can't stomach paying for cookies when every single one is far worse than anything we could make it home. More realistically though is that if I go out on a mission explicitly to buy filth I will buy some for myself. Usually chocolate. Which I will sit and eat in one shameful sitting. I'm quite capable of eating an entire 7 ounce bar of hazelnut-stuffed chocolate without the slightest hint of regret. Then I'll sit and eat all the other stuff that I won't name so that my wife has no idea what it is that she didn't get any of (snort...). All of which is amusing because once we have a stash we are vile, disgusting beasts. But looking at us you'd never know it - my wife especially. I might be thin and look like a run, but she looks like she's never missed a day at the gym. She's one of those women who you couldn't tell had just given birth about week after having done so (I believe they are called, "bitches" amongst other Moms).

The difference today though is that it's been almost a year since I've completely gorged on a pile of  crap. That being when Mini Eggs were so prevalent in my mouth that I genuinely had to drive to a different store to buy them from because I got a funny look from a cashier when I went back the same day to buy another two bags. Anyhoo - I had no doubts this morning that if I drove to buy my wife
Shame Snacks that I would gladly buy my own Filth Food at the same time. But I've been running and working out very hard lately. Last week I'd eaten a huge pile of chicken wings and chocolate. Repeating the chocolate again less than a week later would be bound to make my next run a miserable one. So I could sense the message that maybe I should hold back. Of course that feeling lasted for the entire time it took for me to find the opening hours for Aldi online - at which point we got suited up and were off.


And then my son and I got a much more telling sign. That being my dog - who I take in the car with me whenever I leave the house - having a massive, violent seizure in my car. He's been having them a little more repeatedly lately. Last Friday he had the worst one I've witnessed - so I wasn't expecting him to endure another one so quickly afterwards. So while I was chugging along at a nice 55mph he started thrashing about in the middle of the car - stricken rigid but being involuntarily thrown against the floor, ceiling and seats inside the car. Now when he does this at home I know that apart from holding him down and comforting him there's a very urgent job that must be carried out right away. That being to get him outside because - and let's be straight about this - he's going to shit himself. Which didn't immediately cross my mind as he suddenly started jerking around behind me. However five seconds or so after it became clear all was not well he started squeezing out a spasm-sausage. I don't know if it was the crisp air this morning (5 degrees Fahrenheit when we got going) or the fact that he'd eaten a decent amount of leftover chicken curry from last night's dinner - but it certainly had a bouquet I would describe as, "smells like a dog has shit next to me that smells awful."
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Two things you should know about this whole thing though. 1) He's alright. If it keeps up at this rate something must be done - but for a moderately aged dog he's not suffered anything so far. And 2) - we still went to Aldi. That is how devoted I am to my wife's needs/demands/threats to buy her sour gummy worms and German marzipan-filled chocolate. I pulled over and got rid of the beige bum-bullet before scrubbing the soiled area with a little spilled coffee and some paper towels (if you have a vehicle with no paper towels/toilet paper in it then shame on you) and then deciding that as we were but a mile or so away from our destination that we would be better off getting on with it all. 

Still - it seemed entirely wrong letting my son eat mozzarella cheesesticks on the way home. I didn't think there would be any poo-germs flying about or anything - but I took a stand as a parent that we should probably keep the cheesestick for later and I should give the car one more good cleaning before feeling good about that sort of thing. 

Now obviously I don't want you to carry that story with you all day. Would leave a bad taste in your mouth (you know that website exists). So to change direction entirely here's a photo of what my daughter and I compromised on as her outfit for the day. I usually let her get away with one thing a week that no older child would wear of their own free will. But today she picked out a t-shirt and a denim skirt. Far too cold for that. I considered letting her learn a valuable lesson - but I think I'd bear some responsibility if she lost any skin due to frostbite. So I told her to put pants and a long-sleeve shirt on. Like a smart-arse she did this.


Actually that looks like how teenage boys dress these days. Well ahead of her time, there.

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