Stan's back

DoS #9 - up now. And not to pimp the competition too much, but Welcome to Our House has made me laugh out loud several times. Several. Exuhcise, people.

Finally, a real summer movie

Tom and Emily,

Looks like someone in Asia was listening to our prayers about dragons fighting tanks. I have no idea what is going on in this trailer but it looks like they just CGI-ed out the all the crappy Transformers and CGI-ed all sorts of awesome dragons to replace them.



They also added knights riding dragons, dragons firing missiles, most of LA blowing up, Robert Forster and what looks to be the guy who hosted While You Were Out and was the opening act for Britney Spears. And then more dragons. And in another trailer on Youtube, there was a dragon eating an elephant. And that guy from the Office. So fucking awesome.

Love,

PonyFace69

bon anniversaire

Happy anniversary, kids! The card was great, don't get me wrong, but it seems like some text was left out.



Oh, well. I'm sure it can be improved upon for the Big 10th; or maybe RA's wife can hog yr idea for their 2nd anniversary. Or birthday. Or Arbor Day. Really, whenever... it seems to be the stationery that keeps on giving.

Also, they play the type of shows that require roads being closed around Ballston Commons and wristbands

Once, when I was younger and not afraid to talk to women who weren’t my girlfriend lest she find out later, I struck up a conversation with a young woman at a NoVa house party. And even though she was cute, she was also monstrous bitch. Demeaning and demanding, she got upset when I wasn’t impressed by her claims that she was in a band and that they were famous and I should have heard of them. Classic, future psycho-ex-girlfriend behavior. It would be better if I just walked away and called my current, Idaho park ranger girlfriend, which I eventually did, a few weeks later.

Truth be told, though, I had heard them play before but feigned stupidity because, 1) they were playing in someone’s basement and 2) they weren’t very good and 3) even though they were playing in basements and were not very good, the lead singer was still acting like a monstrous bitch and snapped at anyone who came to close to her instrument with a drink.

Naturally, it kind of soured my whole impression of them. If anyone ever asked if I knew anything about this band, I told them to stay away from Iota whatever night they were playing.



Obviously, any concert promoter sending Pygmalion cold emails asking us to plug this woman’s band on our blog wouldn’t know any of this. We never would. But since I figure any press is good press, I just ignored his request instead of writing a post about how much the band sucks.

Also, I only check the Nabob account about once I month so I missed bad-mouthing the show by a few weeks anyways.

it is always blogs fault

I know I am all about linking VI news stories today (please see: Ricky Bobby Baby Jesus the dog) but this cannot be ignored:

Chain of Tragedy

Now I do not want to treat the topics of depression or heroin addiction or wedding crashing lightly, but:

NEWSWEEK: So far the coverage of Owen Wilson's reported suicide attempt has seemed fairly reasonable and not too lurid. But what about Internet gossip sites and blogs? Are they a new way for misguided information to spread?

BLOGS! STOP MAKING PEOPLE WANT TO BE LIKE OWEN WILSON. Why are you guys such sucky assholes all the time? Blogs, answer me.

Also, I ate at Red Rocks pizzeria place last night in Columbia Heights and it was pretty good, even if they did have chair shortage, which was weird.

OR on Conan

Courtesty Catherine, OR on Conan in case you missed it like me.

dogs in the WaPo

RICKY BOBBY BABY JESUS.

best first sentence in all of journalistic history.

stupid movie, but still.

. . . .


. . . .


Okay, that's all. Carry on.

i'm living with a white girl

why does kristin hersh sound like exene cervenka nowadays?

related from Gp: photo stills of Exene Cervenka and Viggo Mortensen falling in love.

I've been playing the Pinback game a lot. I'm not very good, but it shor is pretty.

the end of civilization

i just thought I'd let the world know that Paula Deen has a recipe for FRIED BACON WRAPPED MAC AND CHEESE on Food TV's website.

larry, darryl & darryl

Oh man, and Larry Craig! Be gay, Larry. Just be gay.

Unrelated but the LC story made me Idaho-nostalgic:

A coworker lived with her parents in a very nice double wide (with porch) at the foot of a small mountain range/cliffs. Every year there is a hanggliding competition there, every few weeks there is some sort of wolf/mountain lion/bear sighting. She and her parents owned 3 or 4 old Chihuahuas that liked to sleep on your head/pee on furniture. They were all named things like Cottonball and Buttercup and Sweet Pea. Usually the mangy rodent-dogs weren't allowed outside, but sometimes they'd leave the little demons on the porch.

When S. came into work the next morning, I asked her what she did the night before, and in the most nonchalant voice ever she said: "eh, my nieces and I spent an hour looking for Cuddles until we realized a mountain lion had gotten him. It was kind of sad. Then we watched Britney Spears videos until I had to put the girls to bed."

S. had owned Cuddles since she was 6, by the way.

okker/vil on con/an

i can't stay up that late. i know the Cousins tivo'd it, and I'm assuming it will be up on YouTube shortly. If youn's know of a copy of the OR performance on Conan last night, if it already exists somewhere on the vast internet, please send it my way.

I got nothing else. Career authority figures are out of town until early September, so thus far my days have consisted of reworking database crap, watching the 2nd season of "6 Feet Under" (hi, I am from 2002) and drinking more coffee than I should. Question: should we go out of town for the 5th consecutive weekend? I am on the fence with this. I miss my house.

Splash

So why does this Flickr ad bother me?



In my 30 years of beach going experience, I have learned that nothing impresses high school girls like laying out into an oncoming wave to catch a football. The photo is meant to capture this blithe moment of athletic process.

Except the water is moving the wrong way. In fact, if the guy were diving after the ball there wouldn’t be any water on him at all. This is clearly a picture of a well-toned and mustachioed young man jumping out of the water holding the football out in front of him.

It makes me not want to buy a Nikon. But it does make me want to buy some Jolly Ranchers and Zima. Girls? I mean, ladies?

summer/bff wedding bells/the wire

quickly, quickly: Friday we ate our weight in crabs, made googly eyes at a really cute baby. The groom bought me jewelry, which was slightly adorable. I watched a mornings worth of Top Chef, got exceptionally lost on my way to the hotel even though Baltimore is the easiest city in the universe to navigate. Glass breaking, Irish music, a really strange hired rabbi that made several references to his drinking problem. I wrote out the ketubah, which I think means the groom and I are now married. The N did not drop the chuppah (yay!) After the ceremony we stiffed a cab (sorry, cab drivers of Baltimore!) and snagged a ride to the reception The dudes were doin' well, even sporting 3-piece wool tuxedos in 1000000 degree temperature, and shortly afterwards sweating out Bombay and shots of Beam. There was a bar visit afterwards with a terrible cover band, bowls of Lays potato chips, drunken voicemails that I really, really hope the recipient deleted immediately (COLLEEN YR A WHOOOOOOORRRREEEEE) and several jokes about people dying in boating accidents. I don't know, don't ask.

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, the Pygs retire from wedding attendance, at least for a short while. Unless any family members pull a giant surprise or coworkers do the unimaginable, we have officially run out of friends. I will miss the open bars. I will not miss the strapless bras. god, i hate those fuckers.

employee of the century

Am I so done with Pitchfork, or have... I dunno... just changed a reader? Eh, whatever.

I'm bored. I've spent most of the morning WORKIN HARD. Googling things like "remote fishing village mexico commercial property for sale," watching You Tube videos on ghost riding the whip in heelies (thanks Tom for that part of my brain I'll never get back), idly fuckin 'bout on Flickr, IMing people on how best to gut a fish/www.fishinghurts.com and how delicious frosted miniwheats are ("Kriston: i know. they are genius like sandwiches are genius. such a good idea. tiny frosty sugar hay bales").

You know what screw this. I'll be sleeping on a friends couch in Baltimore til Sunday if anyone needs me, which you won't.

just for callng themselves "dakota"

okay, RAvent and i are taking a poll. What's the funniest state? Lke, a state government that probably has the best sense of humor? Right now, we're both going with North Dakota but I don't know how accurate that is.... mostly just a gut feeling.


My IM's this week, btw, have been ridiculous.

unrelated and outdated, but my latest download: Prefuse 73 featuring Ghostface Killah. Oh, yes indeed.

you know how i know YOU'RE gay?

can we all just agree, internet, that it's okay to have an affair with Paul Rudd? okay, great, thanks.

And speaking of meatcakes

When the super-volcano under Yellowstone erupts in 10 years and every piece of artwork west of Illinois is destroyed by lava and everything east is blackened by ash, this will be the only record of our civilization to survive. Archeologists will discover this in the pyroclastic flow and conclude that our culture worshiped fire, wolves and comically breasted women. And they’ll be right, more or less.




If I asked you where you thought I saw this tailgate and you guessed America, I’d say you were close, but off by one country. One country too south.

Something meaty this way comes - part 2: The Meateninged

I recently made a cake that was so delicious and awesome that the Food Network announced there will not renew Ace of Cakes for a fourth season since Duff Goldman is too embarrassed to show his round face anywhere on this entire seaboard anymore. It has occurred to me, though, that before I “blog” about this new mind-blowing cake, I need to put something up here about another astounding feat of cookery. Something that has been absent from the internholes for too damn long.

That’s right, meatcake is back!

When we last met meatcake, he was just parts – meat, cheese, cornflakes, additional Pygmalion family secret ingredients.

Actually...

Hold on...

This meatcake was meant to be the vanguard. The idea of baking a cake made entirely of ground beef and frosted with mashed potatoes was much hyped on several websites, including this one. Boasts were made, trash was talked and gloves were thrown down on the ice. At the time, I feared being regulated to the backseat when the actually bake-off occurred, so I secretly procured all the ingredients and made one my own. Ideally, it was meant to help the official contestants, to serve as a blueprint and, as a last result, motivate the bakers into setting an actual deadline. But in the end, I failed. After days of excuses, the discouragement became so great that I didn’t bother posting the second half of the instructions. I expected from the players that when they came, they would come correct. They did not. One of the participants has been scolded in private and the resulting miasma hangs heavy over our home. The other one apparently needs the internets (and their robots) to tell him how special he is. But that means he also needs the internets to tell him how absolutely unspecial and disappointing he is. They both have a chance at redemption but I doubt they will take advantage of it.

Sorry. Let's move on.



When we last met meatcake, he sat quivering in a bowl, awaiting his destined augustness. The dozens (minus one) ingredients had been mushed and mashed into the kitchen’s largest bowl and, based on the G’s colorful Barbie weights, probably weighed about 12 pounds. I say ‘minus one’ because I forget to get the eggs out of the fridge when I was taking stock. At triple the ingredients it meant the recipe was down 6 eggs. Fortunately, it seemed to have little negative effect. In fact, I recently had some of the same recipe with the eggs and I didn’t find it as good. Based on this I can now say that that my version of meatcake is a completely original invention and all future royalties are accordingly owed to me.

Now, there was a bit of a time crunch involved with this entire process. First, I was meeting an old high school friend for drinks and although I told her I was making a cake and might be late, I didn’t mention it was of the hamburger variety. Second, the project needed to be completed and cleaned up before the G got home from her carousing and merrymaking with her Blogibite friends.



So after scooping the goop into three disposable cake pans and putting them in the oven, I realized that the additional baking time required for that much meat could ruin this whole thing. Better get started on the sauce.

A traditional meatcake uses mashed potatoes as frosting, including whatever I assume is the medium between each layer. But I just didn’t have time for that sort of nonsense. Using honey, oregano, olive oil and tomato sauce, I whipped up what I hoped was an acceptable cement for holding the layers together.



It was red and sticky and delicious and tasted like some sort of super-ketchup. But it wasn’t gross like ketchup, which is odd because it’s mostly the same ingredients.



The extra meat in the oven about doubled the cooking time, so keep that in mind if you are making a cake and going on a first date on the same night. When the hamburger started to brown and pull away form the pan, I grabbed the first one out the oven and promptly burned all epidermal matter off my arm from the elbow down. It was just bone and Swatch. I neglected to consider that the meat would sweat off about a gallon of grease, which sits in the pan waiting for an opportunity to scald witless idiots.



While this makes it easier to remove the cake layer from the pan, it’s a damn near deadly maneuver out of the oven. And take care not to spill grease all over the kitchen when trying to pour it from the tray into an empty plastic container of Reese’s peanut butter cups that you had to quickly eat and then feel sick from.



Once removed, the layers stack easily enough, with enough sauce to cover the desired mess. Like a real cake, the meat layers tend to be taller toward the center, so if you have time, shave a few centimeters to allow it to lie flush and not wobble. I prefer adventure, so I just shoved the whole unsteady thing back into the oven hoping that the sauce would set and bind everything together.



20 minutes later…

Since, my recipe was seriously outmatched by the complication involved with this monstrosity, I was expecting at least some level of calamity, besides the ice bath for my arm. But I’ll be damned if this thing wasn’t the greatest triple-tiered hamburger tower I had ever eaten. It was juicy and hot and tangy and meaty. If the White House called, desperate for me to cater Jenna’s wedding reception, I would bake 300 of these things and then sit back and wait for my Presidential Medal of Freedom. It would be me and David Addington and Claude Allen – American Heroes for Time Immortal.



I threw the Stormtrooper in there to help with the scale. You can see that the cake is about 3.5 inches high and 8 inches across. Later that night, when my high school friend asked how the cake turned out, I showed her these pictures and she was confused yet impressed. Her husband, though, wanted to know if I had kids and if not why I had such easy access to Star Wars dolls. It was a proud moment. He’s a doctor. Or at least maybe a nurse.



Epilogue – Upon returning home, my wife discovered the meatcake and was filled with respect, then suddenly followed by shame. After consulting a psychologist, they decided that the best way to work through this self-reproach was to secretly start the frosting process. I walked into the kitchen to discover my cake decorating kit finally being put to a noble use. She did an amazing job using instant mashed potatoes and even added those little piping blobs along the side. It also went along ways toward relieving her considerable guilt.



As good as the meatcake was before the icing, it was scores better with the mashed potatoes. The saltiness added the perfect complement to the sweet tang of the tomato sauce. I think she added a little bit of garlic to the mix which made turned it from knee-buckling good to smoke-from-ears great.



So there you have it. In just a few weekend hours all of your meatcake dreams can come true. Those who bragged on this whole idea when it was first birthed have no reason for not following through on their boasts. They acted like the cocks of the walk. I say they are the cocks of nothing. Especially not cocks of meatcakes.

handclaps

probably really late on this:

i don't really have an opinion on imogen heap, but this video from 06 is pretty awesome.

chicago seemed tired last night

"If you want to have clear skin and bright eyes, don’t drink alcohol."

update: at my desk, not in gutter. it was a marathon and not a sprint, even in the context of a less-than-48-hour visit, so i am not still hungover. I don't think.

just mind-bendingly exhausted.

oh, and old.

Anyhooos. I am tired of airplanes and I'm going to try to not get on one for the next few weeks, at least. Everyone, you just have to come to me. I'll be lying on my basement floor surrounded by towering piles of laundry, carb-loading, hazy-eyed'ly watching "Rock of Love" marathons, etc.

GOODBYE INTERNET, REMEMBER ME WHEN I'M REAL DEAD

I will be in Chicago from 3 pm today til... I can't remember... on Sunday. This trip already involves some sort of transgender'd Asian food service scheme, 1:00 AM sketch comedy, and deadly old-lady Aerosole wedge heels with the rubber bottom coming off, but they are something fierce comfy so I'm wearing them anyway. ALSO I FORGOT MY CAMERA.

It's the old boys network wknd vs. K and me (& maybe a temporary girlfriend of aforementioned boys), all well past our prime and yet dangerous*. Except for the temporary girlfriend, they usually average around a spritely 22. also air and water show is apparently in town, and a Cubs game maybe? So I guess it's law we have to go pick up sailors on the lakefront? Terrified.

I will try not to die or end up in jail. Key word: "try." The chances of me passed out on some Wicker Prk floorboards or a strangers house in wrigleyville? Dunno yet. Drunken running man? We can assume anything at this point. I might make scrambled eggs on Sunday morning.

The N, alternately, will be in Canada (not joking), drinking with/hitting on 18 year old coeds who drunk-drove up from Detroit; no need to worry about him.


* ("A slinky is just a javelin that has yet to uncoil." Thanks for backing a girl up, Linkins!)

Just because you spout crazy in the privacy of your own car doesn’t mean it will stay private.

I publicly challenge the G to defend her statement from this morning that Slinkys (Slinkies?) are as dangerous as any of the other recently recalled toys; lead paint, poop flavored magnets, etc. I inferred from her convoluted ramblings that “pinching” would be the major threat.

The forum is yours, my dear.

and we all know my feelings re: goats.

if you haven't watched the video for Loney, Dear's "I am John", it's on myspace, & you should. Usually I'm not one for this level of My Little Pony tweeness, but the video is pretty much a multimedia childrens book. There's hunter with a handlebar moustache, a deadly tea party, some ponies, an owl, a kitten who masquerades as the hunter's conscience and chapeau, and my personal favorite, what appears to be a Swedish elf dancing with a goat.

music writers/family values

correspondence from little brother re: last night's GWAR show:

The VA Tech shooter was walked out and promptly got his head chopped off, spraying blood everywhere. A gigantic 12 foot prehistoric creature attacked the band. Luckily the lead singer was there to make sure things didn't get too rowdy, and proceeded to stab it in the face until pus (puss?) poured out all over the place. Some random hellion was came out and immediately received a stake through his body and was prepared to be roasted as he was marched off the stage by the band’s slaves, who, by the way were dressed in leather and covered in blood. Obviously. Another victim had his entire front layer of skin ripped off until he was just a skull, spewing his blood all around, but someone told me that's fairly typical and not that impressive. Pretty sure there may have even been something that sounded close to music in there as well. Good times had by all A+++++!!!!

Unrelated to GWAR, happy Elvis Died Day. One of the fondest memories I have from my own wedding is when my mother leans into me about two songs into the reception (like, first dance maybe? I can't remember) and asks "why the hell is he playing ELVIS?" The answer is, mother: because it pleases me greatly.

Please go to here, h/t Gp. He preferes Photo #8, I myself am a huge fan of #6. Omgcapes. Let's all promise to go get something airbrushed today, in memory. Doesn't matter what. Fingernails are a nice option, but if yr a biter like me we can stick to teeshirts, or sure, capes.

the realist killaz

What he neglects to mention is the genius that awaits a person when you click on "View Enlarged Picture" link on the Tupac Wallbanger page.



Giant Crapping Floating Bumper-Billiards Room Tupac. I need this for my basement. NOW. (GCFBBR Tupac, not the bumper game.) Amanda also suggests making this into a mobile, which is nice of her. Now my next baby shower gift is taken care of. Bonus.

You should also probably stop eating all those Polly Pocket figurines

For boys who played with dolls/action figures, the toy’s accompanying accessories were often as important as the character itself, with the GI Joe figure “Law” being a perfect example. Normally, he would have been a boring old MP who walked around with a white helmet, a black leash, a black Uzi, a black nightstick. Yawn. But what launched Law into the Detective Elliot Stabler spheres of acceptable police brutality was that he came with his own German Shepherd named “Order” who I assume was bred to attack groins first and ask questions later.

I would have assumed that things were similar for girls and their dolls. I seem to remember that the D’s My Little Ponies came with brushes and her Cabbage Patch came with an elaborate back story and forged Chinese birth certificate. Sure, I would have gone with the tiny M-60, but that’s why I don’t work in the young girl’s swallow-able plastic toy industry.

I haven’t had much exposure to children’s toys in the last 20 odd years, especially to little girl dolls, so I was a bit unsure of what it took to market them to America’s sophisticated youth. But thanks to the Chinese and their recall triggering love for lead paint we got to find out today.

It turns out that if you’re not buying your daughter the Dog Walking Barbie* that comes with a golden retriever that poops easily ingested brown magnets which can cause infection and other internal hazards, then you might as well not be buying your daughter anything at all. But if you have already bought the pooping dog Barbie, then you need to take it back to KB Toys, because it may be dangerous, especially if you child also somehow manages to swallow the 4-inch magnetic pooper scooper.



I commend Mattel for attempting to teach our youth that it is important to clean up after their pets, even if it comes at the price of poisoning their insides. As Uncle Ben said, “With great dog ownership comes great dog responsibility.” Now, if I could somehow get our dog to swallow little magnets so I could just pick up his poop with a metal stick, my life would be perfect.

*While searching for a picture of Barbie and Tanner I found that Toys ‘R’ US, Walmart and Amazon have already pulled the toy from their sites. Fortunately, Target will still allow you to poison your children.

Update: Now Target's is gone too.

going Swayze

What I Plan On Talking About All Weekend.

I'm being followed home/I'm being followed home

being back at work is totally annihilating me.

also, does the guy from Of Montreal look like Jared Leto or is that just stupid me? Maybe it's just the makeup. Is this why I haven't gotten into them, because I keep confusing dude with 30 Seconds to Mars or whatever?

It's how we draw 'dignity'

Things left in Europe that we expect to get back:

iPod
Camera Battery charger
Blackberry charger
Sunglasses
Regular glasses
2 books
Kick ass, red Albanian sweatband
English copy of Deathly Hallows

Things we don’t expect to get back:

The G’s wallet

"i think i might like Feist. Is Feist for pussies? Do I get docked 10 points for Starbucks rock? Is she hot? These are all things I should know." *

Late summer/Fall is shaping fairly well. there's a few shows that i can't even be bothered to list right now that I'd like to see (i missed white rabbits this weekend), i have tix for OR on 9/30 and spoon on 10/22; I'm trying to decide if a Monday night drive up to Baltimore is worth it for Pleeseasaur, and Capps is pressuring me into a sultry night of Eyeball Skeleton on Thursday if I can figure my shit out in time.

I think I'm out on New Pron this time around, Vox trot's a def. maybe as is Girl Talk. Stiff Little Fingers? (VH1's "You Oughta Know" tour????? who the fuck is Brandi Carlile??????????????) Lucero? Are the Rosebuds worth it? Answers, people, answers.


* (not responsible for subject line using "starbucks", "hot", and "pussies.")

friendlove

so i come back from vacation and what's the first thing i do? okay, second thing, after deleting 340 emails about getting a rolex/bigger penis (no thanks on both counts)? schedule vacation again. I'm going to chiboogie this weekend, it will be a thousand YAYs. Fortunately, I am going to visit a fellow unhealthy lazy boozehound. Unfortunately, my other travel partner is a runner. She can wake me up upon her return from however many miles she has to run a 6 am (CRAZY.)

TR: I know, she runs. Great. You know what I do? Watch "Who's the Boss?" reruns on youtube.com and read about the "hyphy" rap movement on wikipedia. Then I eat.

in other news, i have uploaded 240 brit photos out of a potential 5000. i have edited out all the ones where i am super fat. Do the math. Dude, I ate bacon and chcolate for 2 weeks and did not look in a mirror ONCE, who wouldn't edit those out.

we don't have to take our clothes off

home home. we come bearing 8 pound bags of Cadbury's, a few good yarns re: rental cars, memories of chip sandwiches (genius), a Jermaine Stewart earworm that can't die fast enough, and raging potential case of hoof n mouf. the dog is only slightly skinnier and skittish-er. more on all this later.

Highway Yobbery

We’re off to a wedding. In England. And then maybe other stuff if I don’t kill us by driving on the wrong side of the road. Three things before we part, possibly forever.

1. I consider myself knowledgeable on English weddings because I’ve seen 6 of them on TV - two of them were real and featured Prince Charles’s and four of them were fake but starred Hugh Grant. But it may not be exactly how I imagine since half of the people getting married are from India and we expect some new traditions, perhaps a chuppa? In my head this will be much like the episode of The Office were they all go to Kelly’s Diwali with the added excitement of seeing women in huge hats featuring crazy shit sticking out of them. Neither the G nor the D have bought their huge hats with crazy shit sticking out them in the hope that people will think they are unfashionable British wedding goers and not lazy Americans who couldn’t be bother to buy at hat at Target and crazy shit to put on it from Pier One.


2. Although I am an expert in English marriage traditions, I am less knowledgeable in their justice system. It seems that their police departments have developed a technology that can calculate how much crime is being committed by each citizen. In one case, this “yob” was responsible for 40% of the police’s time. Impressive as this is, though, it pales to this 12-year-old who has committed 85% of town’s crime.

We are about to take off, so could somebody call the town constabulary in Worplesdon, Guildford and alert them that I am planning on being responsible for 100% of the drunk and disorderly charges in their sleepy hamlet on Saturday night? Thanks.

3. Yobbery. I assume there is American slang that the British think is as hi-larious as I think theirs is. I’ll let you know on the 13th.

england ho.

- Wikipedia: Bob and Rob's Corpse-Eating Service; Can I Cultivate Your Groinal Garden?; etc.

- Other new favorite

- Jessica. She has her own sleeping bag.


* * *

I got nothin. I've spent all morning twiddling thumbs, wrapping up loose ends, lissnin' to steaming streaming albums, and trying v. hard to mentally block the ever-rising bile re: the thought of leaving my dog with strangers for 9 days. Let's all hope he doesn't kill anything/anyone while his lover master is gone.