Wednesday, June 25, 2008
1.) I sewed...a lot. I made loads of little bags (pictures to follow eventually) with zippers and everything, and a wee little pocket for my iPod.
2.) I made jam. Apricot. I cheated and made freezer jam, but I think that still counts, considering that it was 183 degrees outside.
3.) I'm heading up to Utah tomorrow for a family reunion.
I would totally make a joke right here about funeral potatoes or something but it's late and I'm sleepy and we're leaving at a quarter 'til crack of dawn, which is not very Mormon but is definitely very Knecht.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sometime last year I seriously thought that Gwen Stefani was stalking me. Because every time I picked up a magazine or turned on the radio or tv, there she was. I couldn't get away from her. I'm beginning to feel that way about your client.
You must have some serious magical mojo because Mario Lopez is EVERYWHERE. He's on Broadway! He has a book out! He's hosting some show on MTV! He's sitting in for Regis! This is all pretty impressive since, let's be honest here, his only real talent is looking good with his shirt off. Oh, and he can rock a pair of stone-washed, tapered-leg, high-waisted, pleated jeans like no other. I do realized that that's way more talent than a person actually needs to be on every network morning show nowadays but even so, the level of saturation is incredible and I may have to get a restraining order. I guess in your book that's a job well done.
Except that you weren't done. Katie brought home a People Magazine the other day and I was not surprised to see Mario on the side of the corner. But I was entirely surprised to see the words "Sexiest Bachelor" underneath him. That had to be the greatest moment of your career, right? I mean, can anyone actually believe that's true when George Clooney is still single? Or Gerard Butler? Get real.
I guess I should say congratulations but my heart really isn't in it.
P.S. In regards to the pictures inside People, I don't think the world needed to know exactly how thorough Mario Lopez's wax job was. I certainly didn't.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Along with vaccines and routine surgery we also offered boarding. It wasn't anything fancy. We had runs for the dogs and pens for the cats and every animal got taken out a few times a day to play and run around. The only animals that got to roam freely were Brutus, the office dog, Mooshie, a 7 pound Maltese, Tina, 125 pound rottweiler (both boarded with us 3 or 4 times a week and new the rules, i.e. no peeing indoors or attacking the clients), and Will the office cat, who was paralyzed from the waist down so he did more scooting and swishing than roaming.
Before I continue I need to make the distinction between Pet People and People Who Have Pets. PWHP are those who like animals and like having them around but can tell the difference between an animal and a human. Pet People are those who dress their dogs up for tea parties, who schedule photo shoots for them, who refer to them as "my children". Crazy people.
We had a few Pet People as clients but the best one was J. Walch, owner of a cat named Precious. Or, more accurately, Precious Baby Pudda-Wudda Kitty Cat Walch. J. Walch called me one day in a panic. I was use to this. She never called in anything but a panic. Everything was dramatic and an emergency. She was going on a church choir retreat and her son was suppose to watch Precious for her but he flaked out at the last minute and now she is thinking about canceling the trip because she "couldn't leave Precious alone for two whole days! He'll just DIE!" Could I be a doll and see if there was any room in our kitty facilities? There was, thus saving Precious' life. Celebrate!
J. Walch showed up the next morning in tears. And this is practically verbatim so I'm going to put it in quotes (It's my blog, I can make up grammar rules if I want to.):
"Precious is livid! We had a fight this morning. He did not want to come. He absolutely refused to get into his carrier. REFUSED! What was I to do? I can't force him to come if he doesn't want to. But I couldn't leave him along so I forced him into his carrier. And guess what he did. He soiled himself. To calm him down I promised that he would have a lovely time with his friends and that you would be so loving and gentle with him. Well, he told me that if he could write a letter to you about how he likes to be treated then he would feel much better about the whole thing."
And then she handed me a letter, sealed in an envelope and addressed to "Dr. Mintzer and Nice Ladies." She asked me to read it.
It went something like this (and I'm not making any of this up and J.Walch was entirely serious about it):
Dear Dr. Mintzer and Nice Ladies,
I've very nervous about staying with you so to ease my fears I'd like you to know a few requirements I have while on vacation.
1.) I like to have soft music playing. Preferably Mozart.
2.) I think it would be lovely if you would light a few candles in my room.
3.) It goes without saying that I would like my own room. And I would like to spent time with you in the lobby so I can see the other animals coming in and out.
4.) I like to have fresh air so please open the windows and doors. Please make sure that there is plenty of sunshine for me to lounge in as well.
I'm sure that if you follow all of my wishes everything will
Precious B.P.W.K.C Walch
I smiled, took Precious, waved bye-bye to J. Walch, put the letter in Precious' folder and took him back to the cat room where I put him in a cage told him that if he had mastered typing a letter than he would certainly be able to imagine candles and Mozart. And then I shut the door.
I would like to say that she was as crazy as it got but I haven't even told you about the lady with 13 cats.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I'm not really a basketball fan. But I like to see people win so I tuned into the end of the NBA finals to watch the Celtics school the Lakers. And I was happy about that, until the post-game interview. I dislike the post-game interview more than I dislike basketball. And that's really saying something. I'm not talking about the post-game press conference, I'm talking about the interview where the reporter is on the field or court and grabs a player just seconds after they win, confetti and sweat pouring down, fans and players screaming and jumping everywhere, you know, general pandemonium, and attempts to scream the all important question that is burning on every one's lips: "You just won! How does it feel?"
How does it feel? As in, how does winning a championship feel? Well, I guess it feels pretty great. And that's just me saying that having never actually won a championship. How do you think it feels? And what revolutionary thing do you think the player is going to say? "Truthfully, I've had a better time playing basketball on my Wii, but I guess this is okay."
It's not just that they ask the question, it's that they ask it 3 or 4 times.
Reporter: How does it feel?
Reporter: So, it feels pretty great, huh?
Player: Yeah, it feels great.
Reporter: Have you ever felt this great before?
Player: Well, this is a pretty great feeling...
Reporter: This must be the greatest moment of your life.
Player: (nods head)
Reporter: Of all the great moments in your life, where does this rank? Great, greater or greatest?
Player: Is this a trick questions?
Reporter: No, I just want to know how great does this feel?
Player: (palms the reporter's head and slam dunks it)
Tonight's post-game interview was particularly painful to watch. Some gal pulled Kevin Garnett aside, maybe 20 seconds after the clock ran out and asked him the question. He was emotional and looked like he would rather be with his teammates instead of having this woman nestle under his sweaty armpit with a microphone shoved up his mouth, and he took a second to compose himself and answer the question but answered it well, if not a little incoherently. And then she asked it again. And he answered it another way. And then she asked it again. She would not stop with the question! She just kept clinging onto him like a baby possum and shouting his name, even when he was jumping around and hollering. And it went on FOREVER. It was killing me. Let the man go! You're embarrassing yourself. Now is not the time to be the Young Intrepid Girl Sports Reporter With Moxy. Now is the time to get off the court and let the team have their moment. That would have really felt great.
You think you can fool me but you totally can't. I'm on to your little game. That game where you try to trick people into thinking that they're still getting a half gallon of rocky road but they're actually only getting 1.75 quarts. This would not be such a terrible thing if you lowered the price but you've raised it instead. This is a pretty rotten thing to do. I stood by quietly when the Cadbury Egg Makers of the World pulled the same trick but I will not be silent on this. I demand you give us the half gallon back! Ice cream is a sacred thing.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
It's the one year anniversary of this blog. Aren't you so excited? Like possibly it's the greatest day of your life? Ever? Yeah, me too.
Let's take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?
Remember that time I watched Maynard the Slightly Retarded Dog? Or when I almost died driving to Arizona. And my explanation for my Deep and Abiding Love for Wayne Newton. And my letter to Jennifer Lopez. How about my feud with Wal-Mart. And all those funny stockings. Knights of Columbus, it's been a good year.
Thanks to everyone who comes to visit. Imagine me handing out chocolates and hugs.
Hugs and Kisses from your Best Pal,
P.S. I put a load of new reviews up on the other blog. If you haven't had enough of this, take a gander.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
1.) Who is super excited that Lisa didn't win Top Chef? I sure am. I liked both Stephanie and Richard so it didn't matter to me which one got it. All I really wanted was for Lisa to not win. She was just so unappetizing.
2.) Is Cat Deeley pregnant? I'm watching So You Think You Can Dance right now and she looks a little bit like she could be with child. She keeps patting her belly and she's wearing a high wasted dress that could have been chosen the hide something. Maybe she had too many donuts this morning. Time will tell. Maybe Google will as well.
Okay, and a bonus...
3.) I LOVE the way the British say boogie. Like booooooogie. Cute.