Adventures in Jackass Sitting (and Awkwardness)

From this past Saturday up until next Saturday, possibly longer, I have been given free reign over my former piano teacher's house.

She skated off to New Orleans to have fun with her husband, drink one of these:

and get totally wasted and just enjoy herself.
(Her kid graduated from college two years ago. She hasn't a care in the world.)

So she, looking for a responsible person, called me pfffffft up. Offered me good money to watch her two golden retrievers, Jackass 1 and Jackass 2, if I would stay at her house every night and keep her dogs from dying.

Thank the lawd there aren't that many *sob*

Because I love money (and her, she's pretty great) I agreed.
So I have been at this for 3 days, and have made some observations...

• Sleeping with a dog is weird and awkward, let alone sleeping with two dogs.
• Getting OMGFACELICK'ed every morning is awkward and annoying
• Not knowing when her son might stroll in is semi-awkward and kind of terrifying
• There is no food here
• But there is alcohol
• So it's okay (Psst, I'm joking. Teehee.)
• Being away from my mother is fantastic :D
• Yelling at dogs is not a crime--half the time they deserve it
• Don't worry, I'm not actually that cruel. They think I love them LIES
• The shower here is amazing
• The bathtub is amazing
• Did I mention sleeping with dogs is awkward? 

Adventures in Babysitting? I think not. Adventures in Jackass Sitting? Bingo.

At 9 AM sharp the house cleaner was supposed to come. I think she started calling the house around 8:50 AM, but I'm a pansy and hate answering the phone.

It was one of those things where I wake up to hear the phone ringing, and hatred is my first thought.
Me: zzzz zzzzzzz
Phone: RING :DDD
Me: .....zzzzzzzz
Phone: Ring! :D....ring?
Me: -glares- .....
Phone: D: -falls silent-
Me: ...f*ck...-gets molested by golden retreivers in bed- I HATE YOU, DOGS
Dogs: :DDDD
Me: -lets them out and goes and sits on bed rather forlornly- House cleaner is supposed to be here at 9...(*Clock: 8:51*)
Phone: RING >:DDDD BITCH I BE RINGING AGAIN!!
Me: -horror- O_O.....I'M NOT ANSWERING IT. -hides-
Phone: -stops ringing in lieu of knocking on the door-
*Horror music plays in background*

Don't worry, I didn't get raped or murdered or anything. The house cleaner came in, in all her sketchiness (she's a shady lady, dressed in varying shades of coral) and went about her business.

It can only continue.

Whenever the phone rings I stare bleakly at the receiver and die inside. So I sit there, waiting, praying...praying that they'll decide to go to the answering machine, and it won't be important. 

Because seriously--these people are gone for a week. They've alerted their friends, family, and crazy church folk. No one should be calling here. 

I CAN'T HANDLE THE PRESSURE

The phone rang again, and it happened to be my piano teacher's husband. He waited for the answering machine and started chorusing: Roo, Rooooooo! Wake up! I'm sorry to wake you up! Roooooo! Are you there, Roo? ROO! PICK UP!

I answered it that time.

Thankfully these dogs are semi-well behaved. They whine and groan at me when I'm not paying enough attention to them, so I just glare and refuse them my lap space in favor of my laptop. I continue by staying up terribly late and exhausting them and by the time they crawl into bed with me they're ready to pass out and not do anything impolite, like hump me in my sleep. (Roo would not be pleased if she woke up to that.)

What I'm dealing with:

Jackass 1 is an older dog. He's been shaved down in some kind of cruel joke, so he looks like a yellow lab whose mother took a wrong turn and drowned in the inbred gene pool. 

But it's okay--I've seen pictures of him with his normal fur, and he doesn't look so weird there. 

Jackass 1 is excitable. You say : Outside? and he bolts from wherever he's at in the house to the front door, keening and carrying on. Howling gets thrown into the mix, along with jumping up and down and making a nuisance of himself. But he's more polite than Jackass 2, which I appreciate. Jackass 1 just wants him 'sum 'lovin .

Jackass 2 is the puppy. Less than two years old, he has very few manners. He may know how to sit properly, but he just uses it as a cover for his real motive: stupidity. 

Jackass 2 is clever. If he doesn't want to go outside, he'll pretend to barrel towards the door with Jackass 1, but he's really not interested. So he'll sit there and make ME look like an ass, holding the door open and making stupid baby noises to try and entice him outside.

Jackass 2 has also had several surgeries in his lifetime, one set before he was 9 months old. Now at first I said: Awww, poor baby...

But it's also a cover. He wants you to feel sorry for him. He pretends to limp and be all gimpy and such, but I know his real game...well, no I don't. 

BUT HE'S UP TO SOMETHING. 

I'm making fun of a crippled dog. Shame on me. *shot*

--------------------

Update--6 hours after initially typing this draft....

Yeah, no.
I come back to the house after having ran back to my own home to hurriedly clean my room. The dogs are happy as can be, and are bouncing around like idiots.

As I get out of my car, I see that Jackass 2 has something that resembles dirt on his back.
"Jackass 2, were you under a car or something?!" was the first thing I shouted. But it wasn't dark enough to be oil/grease.

So with a resigned sigh I poked it, did the *BIG SNIFF/WHIFF* test and sure enough, it was shit. Jackass 2 had rolled around in shit.
His expression was that of a three year old bouncing up and down, showing you how pretty his finger poop-painting is on the bathroom wall.
I was not pleased.

Me: -gets out of the car- Hey, boys. I hate you :D
Jackass 1: Hey, lady! Let's go inside! I'm hungry!
Jackass 2: :DDDD HEY, BABYSITTER LADY! GUESS WHAT I DID?! *prance*
Me: .... .....what....
Jackass 2: I ROLLED AROUND IN SHIT! YEAH, YEAH, IT WAS SUPER FUN!
Me: -face palm- F*ck....FML.
Jackass 2: Isn't it great?! :DDDD
Me: .....BATHTUB. NAO. -scrubs him down-

So Jackass 2 got a half-assed bath. I washed him down, and he gimped his way out of the tub like the cripple he is, and then I banished him outside with Jackass 1 to dry off.


*sigh*
4 more days. 

I Should Be Cleaning

I should be cleaning. But I'm not.

I'm listening to Rob Thomas songs and reading blog posts by people who are funnier than I am.
I'm also feeling a little down about my abhorrent lack of musical knowledge. I can't make clever musical jokes or references. (This saddens me D: )

Me:Yeah! You know that...that song! About the guy...and the girl...and..um...yeah. LOLZ :DD
Anyone within hearing range:... ... No. -walks off-

Reaffirming my belief that I'm not funny . Because I'm not.

***DIGRESSION!!! :DDD***

I realized as I roll around in my filthy room and contemplate cleaning that I never explained the name of my blog. Isn't that traditional or something? Explaining your madness in starting a blog and entitling it the way you did.
Or awkward sentence structure. That's pretty traditional as well.

I'm obsessed with platypi. They're adorable.

YES. Who wouldn't want one of those?
Someone who's lame and doesn't have any inkling of proper pet choices, that's who.

I want one. I want one baaaaaad.
BUT IT'S ILLEGAL AND I'M UPSET!!!!11!!

So I can only placate my feelings of desolation and depression by drawing platypus comics and pretending I'm clever.

After reading Allie, Sarah P, and Miss Yvonne's sexy blogs, I was inspired. So then I began thinking about names. I thought about names while driving, showering, and petting my cat.

Depraved had popped up in my vocabulary recently. Why not use it? Depraved...Platypus? Platyroo? Is it ridiculous that I giggle immaturely whenever I say platypus? Should I really create a blog that I can't look at straightfaced?

Depraved Platypi it became, after a quick exchange with mah BFF Keru about which title seemed clevererest...or something. I'm planning something witty with the pi. You know, like 3.14etc. Because I'm witty and clever like that. Not really

So yeah. That's it. It's not particularly clever. But I believe that before I created this blog, if I had seen a link to a place called Depraved Platypi...I might have just gone there. No, I totally would've gone there. It only makes logical sense that other people would too. (Assuming everyone has an obsession with platypi, which they should, so obviously this conclusion is well founded.)

 

***DIGRESSION!!! AGAIN!!!***
I'm not clever enough to tie an entire blog post together. I jump around and my ADD won't let me pick a concrete topic set.

And now I want to talk about being ADD. Lack of concrete topic set right 'thur.
(Or discipline. That is also a viable excuse for myself.)

I'm still not cleaning. Our house goes on the market tomorrow. Perhaps the potential buyers would like to see an example of a what NOT to do with a room? (I'm equivalent to a hoarder. Maybe I'll post pictures.)

Right. End the blog post. Kill it before it multiplies.
>:D

I sometimes think I'm funny....

It all began nearly two weeks ago when I was introduced to Hyperbole and a Half by my college friend.

College friend (henceforth referred to as CF until I find something funnier / less boring to call her) is amazing, and knew that Hyperbole was just what I needed to smile again. (And find interesting things do with a brick.) Things began spiraling out of control from there. Hyperbole led me to Naked Cupcakes , which led me to various other funny blogs and so on. DAMN YOU, CF. DAMN YOU TO "LANGUAGE" HELL! (An inside joke she'll probably never see :c )

It was contagious and mind blowing. THERE ARE FUNNY PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET. HOLY HELL.
I just kept finding funny blogs that I related to. They got the gears in my brain going, and I began sarcastic inner monologues for just about everything.
Sarcastic monologues led to me thinking I'm funny.


I'm really not. Honest to goodness I'm not. But I like to think I am. So Depraved Platypi was born.
I mean, seriously. I'm an administrator on a Pokémon forum. That has to automatically take me out of the running for funny. (But I do love Pokémon...) Or else it adds me to the running for funny.
Who the hell knows. I don't.

I'm just blogging, and praying Allie at Hyperbole someday becomes Champion of the Internet.
It seemed like a good outlet and a hobby. ALLIE I LOVE YOU.


So this is me...


That's right. I'm a platypus. AN EFFING PURPLE PLATYPUS. Deal with it. =3
There's even an introductory name card that I'm holding up for you. Aren't I sweet? Then the name next to it for a seemingly seamless transition between Platypus and Roo. Platyroo. I'm just fantastic. (And not really this egotistical. The Internet makes me feel ballsy.)


I don't pwn in MS Paint like Allie or SarahP , so I'll just be scanning in the Platyroo comics I draw from time to time and telling stories that I think are amusing BUT REALLY AREN'T about them.

I'm too lazy to actually draw something in MS Paint...I have a tablet and everything. BUT DAMN I'M LAZY. *cough*

Maybe someday.

Now that this amazingly groundbreaking post has been made and its awesomeness has washed over you like Zombie Jesus's love, I think I'll end this. (I love me some Big J, dun worry.)


Depraved Platypi lives :D

*UPDATE*
Do you people see that first comment down there? It exists solely to be awesome. Because it was made by Keru, Platyroo's bestest friend like...EVAH.

This is fanservice to her comment, because she's so damned awesome. Thank you, Keru. I effing love you.