Chepooka.com

I remember when I first met you, it was maybe 1992 or so.  I was still in college, I remember that much, because I was home for Christmas break and I was on a date with this insanely cute boy named Shane.  It was late by the time we came home, we had popped in a movie in the VCR—Weird Science or Airplane! or something, I can’t remember exactly.  Anyway, I remember you came out of my parent’s bedroom all crazy and running around, you were new to our family and you were so small.  You might have weighed a pound if you were dipped in half a pound of chocolate. 

I was excited that you woke up so I could introduce you to my cute date.  But Shane was familiar with puppies you see, and he knew you had just woken up and thought you were going to pee or something.  So he picked you up with one hand and he looked totally worried and confused, he just stood there.  With you sitting there in his PALM.  You were so small.

I remember sneaking you into grocery stores and other places inside my jacket or tucked inside my purse.  You were so small, and so sweet. 

I was away for many years after that.  Then when I moved back home, you met for the first time my puppy Puno—Puno the Duno *cue horror flick music*.  He was a spaz, remember that?  He was obnoxious, I give you that.  You didn’t know what to think of him.  Well. I take that back, you thought he was a real asshole. 

You were forced to tolerate him, but as the years went by, he wasn’t all bad.  He helped you sometimes, and you gave him kisses.  Especially recently, when you got sick.

My sister loved you a whole lot, you were her baby.  Sometimes you got on my nerves because you sure did have a mind of your own, and you barked a lot whenever I tried to leave the house or pulled into a parking lot.  But I loved you too.  I always thought you were the most precious thing when you got your hair cut short and they put you in a knitted sweater to keep warm and you loved that.

My dad loved you a whole lot, my mom did too—more than you can ever know.  It was so very hard to make the decision to let you go.  We didn’t want you to feel so much pain, we didn’t want you to starve to death and waste away because you didn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep.  Days and days went by and many tears were shed.  We couldn’t stop the cancer that made you think you were jumping on the bed when you were really trying to jump on the toilet last night.  We laughed about that a little, but it wasn’t funny.  We love you, you see.  And we didn’t know how to make it all better for you.  My sister wanted to be here, to be there for you, with you, to hold you.

Today, we lost a member of our family.  We miss you Pumpkin.  Thank you for the time you gave us, you made us all so happy. 

Jamie Lee Curtis (as a rule, love her) has a post on Huffington, What’s Next?—Broadcasting Executions? where she admits that she doesn’t watch TV* but was accidentally (wink, wink) drawn to a program** where a contestant was teary-eyed as she faced elimination from a reality television program. 

Why was I drawn to this? I didn’t want her to lose...did I? Do I? I don’t even know her. Why would I wish her harm?

Blah blah blah ...

I am not entertained and neither was that red-faced, tear-stained woman who was told she wasn’t good enough.

Really?

I hope this trend gets eliminated. That we return to telling stories that are written by great writers***, rather than manipulated into looking real, but really are scripted and cast and controlled.

Excuse me while I

If you don’t like reality television or any sort of television, that’s great for you, bravo!  But watching human suffering for entertainment value is not new, it isn’t even exclusive to the realm of reality television.  Pick up a magazine, newspaper or even hell, read some literature, there it is.  Does watching So You Think You Can Dance? make me a horrible person who thinks that life is nothing but a competition?  That if I don’t win, I’m a loser?  That I don’t know, you better pass me the remote so I can do a little more research on this. 

*You are less evolved than Jamie Lee Curtis.
** ♥ Top Chef ♥ ... Cooking contests, apparently they’re new.
*** Like Jamie Lee Curtis.  Or the people that brought you the remake of Freaky Friday. 

Elizabeth Edwards calls in to Hardball to ask Ann Coulter to stop being a hot mess of asshole.  It went something like this --

Elizabeth: “Surely you’re carbon based, Ann, so let me appeal to as one human being to another.  Please stop attacking my family, like about my dead son and stuff, that’s really hitting below the belt.  Let’s stick to the issues, that’s all we ask.”

Ann: “But you LOVE IT, riiiiiyyyt?  *giggle* I make ya’ll so much monaaayz! and that’s SO COOL RIIIIYYYT?”

Right, Ann. 

Ok don’t get mad at me or anything, but will you please quit pretending that you DON’T CARE! what Paris Hilton is doing?  While you’re at it, could you stop whining every time you see her on headline news because THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS GOING ON IN THE WORLD THEY SHOULD BE REPORTING!!!

Don’t front, ‘cause for realz, if everybody was that upset that about it, they would really report the important stuff.  Eager, ambitious young journalists who once dreamed of changing the world would not be reduced to waiting outside a prison for a spoiled heiress to walk to her car.  Next time you want to complain about this, read an article about “something more important” and strike up a conversation about that with your pals next time you join them for cocktails. 

I’m just sayin’.

xo, Chepooka

Thank you for the chin hair comments, you are teh awesome ...

I found a chin hair, I had no idea there were others ...

You have chin hair AND chickens?!

Wonder where I could keep a chicken ...

George W. Bush is a ass face ...

If I had my own chicken, and it made some eggs, what would the angry vegans think? ...

I wonder if I’ll get more chin hairs or if that was the only one ...

Maybe GNC has a supplement for that ...

Why are my fingers numb?  What’s that, a brain tumor?

Wonder if The Closer is on tonight?  I hate summer television, so much to memorize ...

Cary Grant was one handsome fellow, I’d’ve done ‘IM ...

Man this blog post is stupid ...