once, twice, three times a barfy

20130212-125705.jpgWe decided to go to the North Shore to watch the huge waves that the Hawaiian “winters” bring. We always hem and haw about bringing Norman on day-long adventures, but we always try to include him so that he gets activity and lives a full and beautiful life. I’m half kidding.

The trip from where we live to the North Shore is about 45 minutes. Norman usually sleeps in the car so he doesn’t appreciate whats around him, but very occasionally he will stand up and look out the window to check in on the world. We keep his window only slightly cracked because we are still building trust back from last summer’s carmare. As we were arriving to the North Shore’s town of Sunset Beach, Norm stood up to look around. I was thinking, “Aww, look how cute he is when he looks out the window. What is he thinking about? What are his doggie observations and thoughts?” Then suddenly, as he gently panted while looking out, he projectile barfed. I saw the whole thing. No retching, no heaving, no warning. He just opened his mouth and barf flew out of it. So really, all he was thinking was, “Somethingggggg’s happennnninnngggg!”

“He just barfed!” I said

“WHAT!?!” A said.


Car starts swerving. A pulls over.

Then both of us, in vom-induced shock, start mumbling, as if we are singing in a round, “Uhhhhhhhh……oh myyyy god…grosssss…….”

Poor guy. He just looked terrible. Like physically, he looked uglier than normal. We went to the nearest grocery store and got paper towels and Lysol wipes. As I cleaned up, A stood on the other side of the car and talk to a bikini clad woman who had stopped to ask about Norman. I hear him laugh. I have soft dog food under my fingernails. So typical.

We returned to the car and started driving back to our original destination. Soon, I heard that sound. The doggie-I’m-about-to-ralph-sound that we had not heard the first time. “IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN!!!!”  I awkwardly try to throw a towel towards the spot I think it will land in the backseat. Nope. Too late.

He did it again.

and then again.


When we finally lugged all our stuff and got to our spot on the beach, I felt like I had gotten my a** kicked. Norman, on the other hand was just fine and dandy. Like nothing happened. I love that about animals. They don’t lie. They don’t try to milk it. If they feel bad, they honk, and if they feel better once they’ve honked, they move on with their lives like champs. I wish I could be like that. I haven’t changed much since my elementary school days, when after I threw up at like 10:30pm at night, the first thing I would say would be, “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

“we’ll see.” Mom’s reaction would tell me that I would need to still “Not feel well” by morning or else I was goin’.

We spent the rest of the day watching surfers battle the most ginormous waves I have ever seen in my life. We saw surfer after surfer crash and disappear into the pounding, rumbling water below them. The average person would have perished.

“okay, that looks pretty intense,” I thought to myself. “But I just cleaned three barfs, soooo….”



On the way back from the North Shore. I sat in back with him in case he got car sick again so I could “catch it.” Don’t worry, that’s just sand in his nose.

downton bullscript

I love t.v.  always have.  I grew up with a single mom who made the huge (but awesome for me) mistake of letting me watch a lot of t.v.  But it’s fine- I read a lot of books too, so stop being uppity.  “Kill your T.V” types are not welcome here.  It’s violent and you shouldn’t encourage murder anyway.


We the people love T.V because it is an escape from the poop drama in our lives.  We watch because it makes us feel happy (Ellen) or generally better about ourselves, “Real Housewives of ________.”  SO, when I sat down this week to catch up on Downton Abbey I was left with the feeling that can only be descried in one word.  RAVENOUS RAGE. Two words, fine.

I usually get mad when characters on TV get a baby storyline.  It’s a natural segway for the character of a young woman, yes, but it’s annoying because its always so easy. They just are pregnant a few episodes after their wedding.  But I love Sybil on Downton and so I was actually happy for her. (I forget they aren’t real)


After I finished watching my Best Friend, Sybil writhe in her bed and die, I was looking (and feeling) pretty sloppy. I sat there, in shock with my hands over my mouth, mascara all over everything. I could only think- oh, something like, “no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO NO!”  I wanted to kick everything. I was crying and sitting there feeling the fiery rage build within me.  Somehow it turned me into a man-hater, which is just really inexplicable.

“Julian Fellows is a misogynistic ASS HOLE!”  I looked to Norman, with snot and tears running down my face and yelled “WHY?????????”  To which he wagged his tail, because he thinks it’s awesome whenever I talk to him, which made me even more mad.  Honestly, it came off a little dismissive. “I need to be not around you right now.”  I stood up and paced around like some animal. I just felt lost. I felt loss.

Do you think the actress who plays Edith feels a little guilty? Because she should. She should have a real struggle with survivor’s guilt right now.  If I were her, (she?) I would go into the next table reading kind of awkwardly, “Goood morning everyoneeee. [take sip of coffee, dont make eye contact..] sssssssoooo…….”

Sybil was an adorable respite from the crazies in that house.   Aside from being easy on the eyes, (probably because she had traces of a tan,) she was an inspiring character who reminded me of the qualities I wish to better express. She will be dearly and sorely missed.  I wish a thousand stubbed toes on Julian Fellows.

also, you suck, Edith.