Frog Blog

you know that part in superman III where the computer captures the sister of the bad guy and turns her into a freaky robot computer woman? that part scares me to this day: all those wires snaking their way over her face and hands, her knuckles turning into metal, her eyeballs turning silver. yikes! consequently, later in the film, one of my favorite scenes is when superman drops off richard pryor in the coal mines, grabs a chunk of coal, squeezes with both hands and out comes that giant diamond. brilliant. and then gives that ring to lana? i melt every time. but she’s such a knucklehead. why doesn’t she just jump him right then? is it because that drunk guy from their high school shows up? is it because little ricky is in the room?

there’s a superman marathon on right now— for some reason III was shown before II, which is on now. B has never seen any of them. i, on the other hand, have seen all of them numerous times (except IV, which i only saw twice; i thought it was lame). i’m a total closet comic book fan.

somewhere in the universe, someone is making my tooth. what a strange job, no? my tooth is in someone’s hands this very instant.

i’m 30, and i’m getting my first crown. does that officially make me a princess? i don’t feel so royal chewing on one side of my mouth and avoiding gum, jelly beans, anything crunchy, bagels, blueberries and baguettes. i had no idea how many crunchy things i consumed until i had to cut them out. i had an idea of how much candy and chocolate i consumed, but i’ve been in denial about that until now. i don’t really miss them. but i do miss wheat thins when i get home.

in addition to my porcelain crown, i’m also getting a porcelain half crown. lucky me! i have temporaries in my mouth now. they’re very smooth. they feel like a piece of taffy permanently fused to my gum. i hope i never need any more.

i thought about getting all ghetto and going for the gold teeth. but my vanity won.

i don’t know how i started thinking about this, but i remember it was on a walk back from the store last weekend: there are certain things i enjoy doing alone, some i’d rather do alone and some i hate to do alone. here we go.

enjoy: going to the movies, eating lunch, walking, writing, showering, picking at my zits, crossword puzzles, traveling.

rather: singing (group singing gives me the heebie jeebs), shopping (never been much of a girlie-girl shopper), housework.

hate: eating dinner, eating dinner in a nice restaurant, drinking, drugs, driving.

lately i’ve been teasing B that we’re going to get ourselves a little pug. i’ve loved them for some time and think having a pug would be cooler than greek yogurt with honey. B isn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea but indulges me from time to time. he lacks the pet gene; i always had pets growing up, but he never did. anyway, i know it’s a farfetched dream but i do squeal whenever i see a pug out walking. i even have a name picked out: piggy.

on our way to his parents’ house yesterday, we stopped for some donuts and coffee. i saw a pug from across the highway, sitting and all happy and perfect. i prayed he’d be there by the time we got our coffee so i could meet him. i was in luck! mr. pug was tied up outside waiting for his owners, who were in line ahead of us in the shop. i asked if i could meet their dog and then went outside to say hi.

he was a snorting ball of joy, licking my hands and doing spins and so soft and nice. the owner told me how they make great companions but not good watch dogs because they like people too much. i asked if they shed a lot and if they’re easy to train and then, i asked what the dog’s name was and the man answered the most perfect, astonishing and earth-shattering answer: PIGGY.

it’s only a matter of time now, i can feel it.

i promise here and now to not be one of those dog people: there will be no dog in the bed, no dog eating from my mouth, no dog licking his butt and then licking my face and no do dog in the bed! people! dog in the bed! DOG IN THE BED. get a dog bed. they’re not that much. and i won’t talk all baby shit booga woogy talk to the dog. at least not around you.