Today at the gym, while sweating my way through an hour on the elliptical and swearing at my blood sugar for bouncing all over the damn place, I saw my friend Betty. Betty lives a couple of houses down from me and is the epitome of Black And Fabulous. Betty is a Gemini like me, and "gets" me, whereas a lot of people just think I'm an hateful bitch. Betty knows that sometimes I AM a hateful bitch, but we get along just fine. We're a lot alike except that Betty gets cool black girl hairdos and is very fashionable, whereas I am usually running about wearing yoga pants with my white-girl hair twisted up in a bun.
**DISTRACTION: Lola (our junkyard dog, and a main player in this blog I'm trying to write) just launched herself at me and is now sitting halfway on my laptop, licking dried cookie dough off of my tank top. THIS IS ONE OF THE PERILS OF BAKING. I ALWAYS END UP WITH STUFF STUCK TO ME AND THEN EVERYBODY THINKS, "OH, SHE HAS FLOUR ON HER. I BET SHE WAS BAKING COOKIES. SHE MUST BE SWEET AND MATERNAL." THEN THEY WANT TO BE FRIENDS, AND SHIT JUST GOES DOWNHILL FROM THERE. Nobody ever sees white powder on my pants and thinks, "FUCK! I BET SHE GOT THAT ON HER WHILE SHE WAS DOING A LINE IN A BATHROOM IN PORTSMOUTH." Anyway, the point is, I am now writing this AROUND A DOG.
And what a dog she is, which is exactly what I was getting to with the story about Betty. When Betty ran into me at the gym, she wanted to know what in the hell happened to my dog, which is a question a lot of people have been asking lately. WHAT HAPPENED TO LOLA?
WELL. A couple of weeks ago, I was streaking Bellamy's hair with pink dye (permanent dye, because I am a kick-ass mother who is supportive of my child's desire for individuality) and I noticed that we had a lot of color left over. Lola came wandering through and I thought, "HEY. Lola already has a black skull collar, I bet if she had pink hair she would look AWESOME." So I wrangled her down and punked her 'do. And now she looks like a badass.
Was I drinking when I did this? MAYBE. Am I pleased with the outcome? OBVIOUSLY. But the BEST part of the whole situation is that now when I take her for walks, people do double takes or look at me like I'm fucking INSANE. Lola was already kind of a funny looking (spastic mixed-breed shelter pup) animal, but now she's a fucking rockstar. ROCK ON, LOLA.