the_deep_magic: A nightmare inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka! (LotR: poor Boromir)

Sister: Have you guys already seen The Avengers?
Mom: Yes, but we'll see it again with you.
Sister: Eh, it's okay.
Me: No, really, we don't mind.
Mom: I like Thor.
Sister: (contemplating) I guess I wouldn't mind seeing Mark Ruffalo as the Hulk.
Me: Really?  That particular collection of men and it's Mark Ruffalo who tips the scales?
Mom: Not Thor?
Sister: What, you got something against Mark Ruffalo?
Me: No, no, he's good.  I'm just surprised, is all.
Mom: Thor's cute.
Me: Mom, you have any thoughts on the matter?

I'm less surprised that my mom has a crush on Chris Hemsworth (or Thor, at least) than I am that we have something in common.

Edit: Holy crap, something just occurred to me: I should've named my dog Loki.  He's constantly causing trouble, he picks fights with his adopted brother who's roughly three times his size, and (while this is pure speculation), if given the opportunity, he would wear a slightly-silly-yet-bad-ass helmet and say things like "I am burdened with glorious purpose."

So far, Plato has not attempted to enslave the peoples (or the dogs) of Earth.  So far.

the_deep_magic: A nightmare inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka! (Like a square wheel)
We don't know his exact birthday, but he was assumed to be about a year old when I adopted him a year ago today, so we're calling it his birthday and saying he is officially 2 years old now.  He has not noticed a difference (though he did appreciate the big ol' pig ear I got him as a present).  My sister managed to snap a picture of him actually looking dignified, so of course I made this:

Plato's 2nd birthday

(Those things on the ground are supposed to be multicolored sparklers, not wonky trees.  Alas, there is only so much one can do with MS Paint, especially when one doesn't give much of a shit.  I DID try to make him actually wear the party hat -- this confused and displeased him, and it was too big for his little doggy head anyway.)

It has been quite a year of ups and downs, and we are still trying to find a way to deactivate the El Chupacabra switch, but he is (mostly) a good little dog who is just excited about everything.  We could all stand to be a little more like Plato.
the_deep_magic: A nightmare inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka! (Ole' bitches)
Little Dog is getting chubby again, and we cannot figure out how.  I am not feeding him any more or different food, and it's already the weight-control stuff, anyway.  And all he does all day is run around like his tail's on fire or wrassle with the Big Dog.  Maybe it's a glandular thing, but we had him tested for everything under the sun when he kept leaking on the carpet, and everything came back normal.  I mean, he's not, like, in Suwannee River pig-dog territory yet, but he is crossing over into "portly."

(It occurs to me you might not be familiar with the Suwannee River pig-dog, as it is a term I made up a few years ago.  I trust, however, that it is somewhat self-explanatory: a dog so enormously fat that he may, when viewed from a boat in the Suwannee River, cause the observer to say "Hey, look, that man's walking a pot-bellied-- holy shit, that's a dog."  Feel free to use the term should you need it.)

Still, even though I know it's not good for him, I can't help but love a chubby dog.  Plato has two types of running: the joyful pronk that makes him look like he's half-rabbit, and the full-on, ears-tucked-back dash.  The latter is especially adorable, as he looks like a fat, furry little sausage torpedo shot out of a cannon about 6 inches off the ground.  Despite the stubby legs, he can get going pretty damn fast over short distances.  EVERYBODY GUARD YOUR ANKLES.
the_deep_magic: A nightmare inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka! (Like a square wheel)

So Plato comes trotting out into the living room with a pencil in his mouth.  A perfectly sharpened pencil.

My response: "Where the hell did you get that?"

My dad's response: "Hey, let's give him a piece of paper, see what he has to say."

Happy Thanksgiving, all who celebrate it!  Happy Thursday, everyone else!

the_deep_magic: (So then that happened)
Don't know if I mentioned it, but a few weeks I broke down and bought one of those cheek-swab DNA testing kits for Plato, in the hopes that knowing what unholy combination of specific breeds went into his design might give us some insight into training him.  (Pause for laughter.)  Incidentally, do you know that dogs do not like to have the inside of their cheeks swabbed, not even if you explain the reasons patiently?

Anyway, the report came back today, and it was, well...  I'll let you decide for yourself.  Just to refresh your memory, this is the dog in question:

The Dog )

Remember, I was told he was a dachshund/terrier mix.  These are the results that came back:

The Results )

the_deep_magic: (mirror!Spock)
If I were the sort of person who believed in putting clothes on dogs, I would be sorely tempted to shell out a ridiculous $24.99 for a devil costume for Plato.  It has little horns and everything.  I don't think he'd mind it, but Big Dog would tear it to shreds in minutes and Little Dog probably wouldn't even stay still long enough for me to take a picture.

It is a good thing I am not that sort of person.

(Though I would stick him in the beer can Enterprise without a second thought.)
the_deep_magic: (In which Jayne is wise)
Okay, I don't know how many of you are "Penguins of Madagascar" enthusiasts, or simply familiar with the penguins from the movie... Madagascar, but you know Rico, the one who doesn't talk but routinely belches up weapons in times of need?  That might be my dog.

The other day, I caught him with what looked like a Q-tip in his mouth, but it wasn't, it was a match.  A white-tipped match, not torn from anything, just on its own.  And we're 99% sure the only matches we have in the house are either red-tipped or in matchbooks.  This isn't the first time he's shown up with something inexplicable in his mouth, either.  Little Dog, what are you doing?

Roll

Well, yes, there's that.

BTW, I think I've found the secret to not feeling steamrolled by yoga: there is an optimal snacking window between one hour and fifteen minutes and one hour before class begins.  Snack too early and I feel woozy by the fourth sun salutation; snack too late and I have to concentrate on not accidentally horking up peach-and-passionfruit Greek yogurt all over my little purple mat.

And now for something completely different: YOU GUYS, CELIBATE!ZACH FIC IS BEING UPDATED AGAIN ON THE KINK MEME.  WE LIVE IN EXCITING TIMES.  And I'm sure the author totally loves me mentioning this in the same post as stinky dogs and yoga barf.
the_deep_magic: A nightmare inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka! (SW: it's a love story really)
So sometimes I get a little craving for het fic, just to, I don't know, remind myself that I have lady parts or something, and my brain took in the mighty figure of my Thor Slurpee cup and decided it wanted Thor/Jane Foster.  Anyway, I couldn't find a whole lot of great stuff (I'd imagine the slash for that 'verse is higher in both volume and quality), I did find two worth reccing.  Both authors succeed because they can actually handle the whole Norse-god-elevated-speech-pattern thing in the context of sex.  [livejournal.com profile] waldorph does it hilariously in When Jane Pegged Thor (though eventually the ball gag comes into play) and [livejournal.com profile] mekosuchinae does it fluffily in Salt on Your Lips (which contains lines like "I have partaken of the boilermakers and the whiskeys and the strawberry daiquiris.")  I don't think I have to specify that these are both PWPs.  So, my het recs: I give you them.

Poll time!

[Poll #1782473]

Pinto Canon Question: What's the name of Zach's best friend?  I know it's Bridgit or Brigit or some odd spelling like that, but I want to make sure I have it right.  For great justice.  Edit: It's Brigid.  And yes, [livejournal.com profile] therumjournals, I should have specified best human friend. ;o)

Little Dog has not peed on anything indoors in days.  Days.  I am worried he is storing up for a pee-splosion soon.
the_deep_magic: (mirror!Spock)

1) Is anyone else not getting LJ comments?  Because I was so sad that Little Dog hadn't gotten any comments (his self-esteem is very fragile, you know), but then I checked the actual post and he had!  He had comments!  Perhaps I will read them to him.  He will listen for 0.003% of a second, then race off after his squeaky snake.

2) I forgot to mention Plato's old-man whiskers and beard.  I don't think he's sensitive about being prematurely gray, though -- it just gets him a lot of chin rubs.  And people think he's all ~mature.

3) Tomorrow is Research Day.  I will research grad schools, degrees, what to do with those degrees, a few things for fic, etc.  This is my goal. 

4) Also, I should be getting confirmation on the job tomorrow, along with a school ID and papers to sign and everything.  I'll be nervous until everything all goes through and I have students booked, but I'm still psyched.

5) Twitter, you and I are growing apart.  I'm not leaving you yet, but don't be surprised if one day you come home and my bags are packed.

6) Although, if I were Simon Pegg, I would respond to everything with "Fuck you, I'm Shaun of the Dead."

7) I have watched first two episodes of BBC Sherlock and will watch third in between Research tomorrow.  Thus, by tomorrow night, I am going to need some good fic recs.  Preferably short-ish, just to dip my toe in the fandom.  Didn't beederiffic write a Sherlock fic?  I tried to find it, but I couldn't.  So anyway, links plz.  But I will wait until after I've seen the last ep to read them.

the_deep_magic: (So then that happened)
And now, what all some of you have been waiting for...

Plato says hi


Have you met my dog Plato?

If I tell you we call his crate Plato's Cave, will you respect me in the morning? )

So now you've met my dog, and I can tell lengthy stories about him instead of just randomly alluding to something because I haven't properly introduced him yet.  The latest is that the vet officially pronounced him Too Fat and we are trying to slim him down, the little furry sausage, but he keeps eating Big Dog's food.  Warning: you're probably going to get a lot of "Dammit, Little Dog, why did you have to _____?" posts, but I will make amends by posting adorable pictures.  If I can get him to sit still long enough for the camera.
the_deep_magic: A nightmare inexplicably torn from the pages of Kafka! (Everything's comin' up Zoidberg)
Whew, you people are disturbingly interested in my surroundings! ;o)  No worries, I asked for it.  Also, several of you, including [livejournal.com profile] perdiccas, asked for photos of my dog.  I was waiting to do a formal introduction post... and then I kept putting it off... so I'll just give you a little teaser now:

Photobucket

His name's Plato, but he also goes by Little Dog, Platelet, Peewee, Piddles McGee, and What The Hell Are You Eating Now; Spit That Out (that's his Indian name).  I promise to do a real introduction post soon, but for now, please enjoy a photo of my dog all bandana'd up for Dress Like Pinto Day.  Surprisingly, he did not mind it all that much, I just couldn't get him to stay still for a decent side-on picture

And now on to the rest! )

ETA: If some of the pictures are showing up giant, I don't know why that's happening.  I tried really hard to make them all a uniform 500 pixels at widest.  Dammit.

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