Random late-night post number two.
Apparently I'm in a spammy mood.
How much wank do you think I'd stir up if I wrote out a long, meta-y DW essay of my Thoughts that seems to basically be summed up as "here are the reasons Nine and Eleven rock like rocking things and Ten mostly sucks"?
...right?
Don't worry, I won't. Because I try not to deliberately stir shit like that. I just have a lot of feelings. (I don't, as a caveat, actually hate Ten as much as that seems to imply. It's just that with him, I'm all extremes. He's never just mildly okay or kinda annoying for me. He's either amazingly awesome or so loathsome I want to kick his teeth in.)
I keep spamming Kelly with random DW crap of this nature, though. Probably I should, you know. Ramble on about this sort of thing with someone who actually watches the show. Just maybe.
So. Switching gears completely. I've mentioned the dogs, and how one is a genius (Ziva) while the other is...cute. Lol, okay, Remy's a Golden (a giant, giant Golden; seriously, he's 28 or 29 inches to the shoulder, the standard is 22-24) and is sweet as could be, and he's actually not so much stupid as he is lazy. And, really, his direct competition in the smarts department is a Shepherd-Husky mix. How could he possibly be expected to beat that? I gave them both an IQ test recently that bears this out: Ziva scored in the genius range (surprise!) and Remy scored one rung below her, above average but not exceptional.
Watching them is hilarious, though. Remy is doomed to never win at tug-of-war; he has that soft retriever bite, the one they need for getting birds so they don't damage them when they carry them. Ziva has that "grrrrrrr I WILL NEVER LET GO" guard dog bite that suggests if you tried to break into our house you would find yourself with a leg full of dog teeth. Forever. She does do her job, too. She patrols the house, looking out all the windows. If she sees someone or something, there's barking. What's hilarious is watching her move from window to window, all, "INTRUDER INTRUDER INTRUDER!" because inevitably Remy is trailing behind her all, "...what's going on?! Can I help!?"
She also has a backpack, for when we go hiking. She loves this freaking thing, you guys. Every time Sylvia gets it out, she KNOWS we're going on the trails and she does the doggy equivalent of a happy dance. Hilariously, when Sylvia was out with them one time, some woman saw the backpack and thought it was mean. Sylvia was just like, "Um. She's a Shepherd-Husky mix. Both are major working dogs. She needs a purpose." She really does, too. The difference when you take her hiking with the backpack and without it is astounding--with it on, she's all focus and "I have a mission!" and just goes. She's a lot less so without it.
She and Remy are so sibling-like, sometimes. I remember a little while ago I was taking them out, and there was a frisbee in our yard for some reason (probably thrown over by some drunk college kids) so I picked it up and threw it for them. Ziva was busy KEEPING WATCH so only Remy saw it, and he simply watched it with this hilarious look of "omg what is this marvelous witchcraft." When it landed, he bounded over to it and sniffed it, pawed it, sniffed it again, then, apparently satisfied, bounded back to me, all, "Make more magic happen!"
Ziva had finished her rounds by this point and was watching as this happened. I swear that dog was thinking, "...you goddamn hopeless idiot." because right after Remy came back to me, she walked over, picked up the frisbee, and came and gave it to me, all pointedly, "THIS is what you do, dumbass." I love them.
ETA: Have a photo!
Okay, now that I have rambled incessantly about the dogs, I'm going to go again. Adios.
How much wank do you think I'd stir up if I wrote out a long, meta-y DW essay of my Thoughts that seems to basically be summed up as "here are the reasons Nine and Eleven rock like rocking things and Ten mostly sucks"?
...right?
Don't worry, I won't. Because I try not to deliberately stir shit like that. I just have a lot of feelings. (I don't, as a caveat, actually hate Ten as much as that seems to imply. It's just that with him, I'm all extremes. He's never just mildly okay or kinda annoying for me. He's either amazingly awesome or so loathsome I want to kick his teeth in.)
I keep spamming Kelly with random DW crap of this nature, though. Probably I should, you know. Ramble on about this sort of thing with someone who actually watches the show. Just maybe.
So. Switching gears completely. I've mentioned the dogs, and how one is a genius (Ziva) while the other is...cute. Lol, okay, Remy's a Golden (a giant, giant Golden; seriously, he's 28 or 29 inches to the shoulder, the standard is 22-24) and is sweet as could be, and he's actually not so much stupid as he is lazy. And, really, his direct competition in the smarts department is a Shepherd-Husky mix. How could he possibly be expected to beat that? I gave them both an IQ test recently that bears this out: Ziva scored in the genius range (surprise!) and Remy scored one rung below her, above average but not exceptional.
Watching them is hilarious, though. Remy is doomed to never win at tug-of-war; he has that soft retriever bite, the one they need for getting birds so they don't damage them when they carry them. Ziva has that "grrrrrrr I WILL NEVER LET GO" guard dog bite that suggests if you tried to break into our house you would find yourself with a leg full of dog teeth. Forever. She does do her job, too. She patrols the house, looking out all the windows. If she sees someone or something, there's barking. What's hilarious is watching her move from window to window, all, "INTRUDER INTRUDER INTRUDER!" because inevitably Remy is trailing behind her all, "...what's going on?! Can I help!?"
She also has a backpack, for when we go hiking. She loves this freaking thing, you guys. Every time Sylvia gets it out, she KNOWS we're going on the trails and she does the doggy equivalent of a happy dance. Hilariously, when Sylvia was out with them one time, some woman saw the backpack and thought it was mean. Sylvia was just like, "Um. She's a Shepherd-Husky mix. Both are major working dogs. She needs a purpose." She really does, too. The difference when you take her hiking with the backpack and without it is astounding--with it on, she's all focus and "I have a mission!" and just goes. She's a lot less so without it.
She and Remy are so sibling-like, sometimes. I remember a little while ago I was taking them out, and there was a frisbee in our yard for some reason (probably thrown over by some drunk college kids) so I picked it up and threw it for them. Ziva was busy KEEPING WATCH so only Remy saw it, and he simply watched it with this hilarious look of "omg what is this marvelous witchcraft." When it landed, he bounded over to it and sniffed it, pawed it, sniffed it again, then, apparently satisfied, bounded back to me, all, "Make more magic happen!"
Ziva had finished her rounds by this point and was watching as this happened. I swear that dog was thinking, "...you goddamn hopeless idiot." because right after Remy came back to me, she walked over, picked up the frisbee, and came and gave it to me, all pointedly, "THIS is what you do, dumbass." I love them.
ETA: Have a photo!
Okay, now that I have rambled incessantly about the dogs, I'm going to go again. Adios.