So I read this article the other day about how to get more traffic on your blog and one of the suggestions was to make a Facebook page for it. I asked our followers what they would like to see us write about and our friend Camille proposed that I write about pugs, road rage, Jennifer Lawrence and Nutella. Together. You’re welcome, Camille. I want to write about them all together, but first I would like to address them individually, as they all deserve individual attention.
In some social circles (k, all of them) I’m known for my love of pugs. It’s a lifestyle choice. I was talking to my friend Clare on the phone the other day while she was at a dog park with her pooch Grizzly and she told me about the adorable pug she met there. She couldn’t help but notice that both of his owners were wearing “Pugs Not Drugs” t-shirts and she exclaimed that she finally understood that pug ownership really is a way of life. I’m not sure when my pug love started, but it has only grown stronger over the years. I think it’s because I have a lot in common with them: asthma and a tendency towards overheating, overexcitement, and drooling (What?! I’m a sleep-drooler…get over it). Here’s the catch, and this is really sad so I’m sorry if you cry…
I’m allergic to dogs.
Yep, there it is. I can never have a pug. Okay, you might not be crying but I am. I think we get the point. Moving on. (If you want to read more about my love of pugs, check out my former post)
I could- and very well may- dedicate an entire blog to my horrible road rage. Eights (see Enneagram explanation post) can be easily identified on the highway. If you look over at someone getting cut off and that person appears to be stroking out and is gesticulating wildly (which technically I guess you wouldn’t be doing if you were having a stroke, but whatever) throwing their middle fingers (oh yes, both of them) around at anyone who cares to look and then tries to murder the person who just cut them off, chances are you’ve got an Eight on your hands. I once read in an Enneagram book that said Eights feel most in control when they are out of control. Examples being speeding, drinking, dancing, fighting, what have you. So road rage is just kind of par for the course with us. I feel like this part may have just lost me a few friends…
Is the bomb. I also think she’s an Eight, so naturally I love her. She says weird stuff, she trips on her dress at the Oscars, she gets pictures taken of her smoking a joint on a hotel balcony in Hawaii. Basically, she doesn’t give a shit. And I love her. (Sorry for saying shit).
Watch this adorable interview that JLaw did with Lynn Hirschberg for W:
There’s actually not a lot for me to say about Nutella except as it relates to my allergies. I’m pretty much allergic to a million things. The short list includes: all nuts except peanuts, shellfish, melon, kiwi, bananas, beans. I might as well be allergic to fake cheese, too, cuz I hate it. My point here is that Nutella is a hazelnut spread and thus I cannot consume it. But I think it looks absolutely delicious and even though those Nutella commercials are totally misleading people into thinking it’s healthy, I’m sure it tastes fantastic.
Now the request from Camille was that I would talk about all of these things together, so I’ve come up with the following short story: I’m in the car with Jennifer Lawrence because we’re best friends and are about to go out for a night of fun together where she tells everyone we meet how awesome I am and how it was really my love and constant friendship that gave her the courage to pursue her dreams of becoming an actress. But I digress. We’re in the car, just the two of us and our pug, Dobby. Dobby goes everywhere with us as a security detail. You can imagine that he is incredibly loyal. And adorable. So even though we’re best friends, Jennifer Lawrence is adorably forgetful and when I say I’m hungry, she hands me a little Nutella sandwich that she has wrapped up in her purse in case of emergency drunk hunger. Without asking what’s in it (just play along), I scarf the entire sandwich down and realize that my throat is closing up. So much for our night of fun- we need to find the nearest hospital! But of course there is traffic and my homicidal rage comes out. Then we get into a massive car accident because I tried to get back at the person who cut me off in the first place and everyone dies except Dobby. The End. Now you know why I’m not a creative writing major.