Doggy Drama, Passport Photos, and Pork Pies

A-And they called it Puppy Love…

a break between bouts of fight club

There’s been ALL THE DRAMA with the Hector adoption. A couple came to see him and they were really keen and really nice, but they both worked full time. I did think this was a bit ambitious of All Dogs Matter since Hector screamed the place down at the vets, and not because of the snippy snip. He doesn’t mind going next door to Steve’s, but he does cry if I go out, and they had said they would want to take special care of his separation anxiety. Turned out there had been a bit of miscommunication, so the couple were sadly disinvited from adopting him. Better for him, but they really loved him and will be terribly disappointed. I am glad it wasn’t up to me to tell them.

They do have someone more appropriate lined up, but I’d rather they went with my neighbour, Brian, who has a staffie, Max, who likes Hector. He is retired and he takes Max massive walks every day. He says he is keen, but even if he phones today the guy who ADM like is coming to see him TOMORROW so there’d have to be something go wrong for him not to want him, I guess, and this guy does sound good… I suppose there’s another doggie who Brian and Max might like. Considering every time they post on facebook I repost with oohs and aahs, so they’re not short of lovely dogs.

***

In travel news, my friend Lottie has asked me if I would like to go on holiday with her and her sister and her sister’s kiddo. Why, yes, I would like to go stay in a lovely villa in Spain paid for by their dad, I most certainly would. As you know I am BRILLIANT at Spanish having bothered to learn “bathroom” for our previous trip, and managed very well with just that and mime. I think it helped that we were in deepest Spain, and I was twice the height of everyone else and blonde. I was probably like a cross between Boris Johnson and Big Bird to them.

Suddenly I remembered my passport had run out and I’d failed to fill in the form for a new one, so I got to it last night, and threw in a pair of photobooth photos with the application. It was only this morning that I thought that the likelyhood was that these photos were even older than my last 10 year passport so I’d better get some new ones done. I opened the envelope and retrieved the ridiculously young me photos and prepared to meet my face in the mirror. I haven’t worn make up for a really long time, but photo booth photos bleach your face out anyway, and since I have near invisible eyebrows and a pale face I though’t I’d better do some colouring in. Just as well, too, since the photos came out rather bleached anyway.

not a serial killer, just not allowed to smile for passport photos

Imagine if I’d gone up there bare faced? I’d have looked like a balloon in a wig.

***

On the 11th I go to the Headache Clinic at the Neuro Hospital. IF they bestow me regular botox I could be looking at having a significantly different prognosis. Also, going into the summer, if it’s anything like last year, I should at least get three decent months. Last year I just needed a break and I took it. This year, knowing that it would be forwardable, I would first of all be into dropping as much medication as possible (already started, CHECK) and dietary reform (already started, LIKE A BOSS). The problem with dietary reform is everything you aren’t going to eat any more becomes super beguiling. Even stuff you didn’t like before. One time I knew someone who was on remand in prison. Edgy, I know. Anyway, he craved pork pies, which, he said he never liked normally. Now that’s me, only without the prisony bit.

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5 responses to “Doggy Drama, Passport Photos, and Pork Pies

  1. I don’t understand why you can’t smile in your passport photo. Is this a universal rule? Am I not going to be allowed to smile in mine later this month? Because I really don’t think I will be able to stop myself. I am JUST THAT EXCITED. And why is this a rule? Because terrorists are grumpy and if your passport is smiley, they might not recognize you are about to be terroristing? This is very perplexing to me.

    YAY FOR SPAIN! Send me a mantilla!

    Fingers crossed for the clinic. Three good months sounds excellent to me. (More sounds even MORE excellent, but you take what you can get, I suppose?)

    • I know this! They don’t like smiling in passport photos because it confuses facial recognition software. Stupid computers.

      • Computers. They think they’re so smart. Don’t they go on facebook and stalk people?

        I am trying to remember if you were allowed to smile in the olden days. Not sure. I was quite a sullen younger person, so might not have FELT like smiling anyway…

    • Perhaps you could practice looking less smiley and more smug or generally pleased without smiling? Try it in the mirror. I got three goes to get my face right in the photo booth. I went with my second try, because who knows what sort of mug I might have pulled in the third one.

      I have never tried to buy a mantilla before, so I don’t know if they are affordable or shockingly expensive. I have liked the look of the big combs at the back, though. They aren’t cheap, but they are pretty fabby. Not that they’d get much wear outside of Spain. At least with a mantilla you could repurpose it as a table cloth to hide the fake candle mess your ‘husband’ put on your ‘favourite’ coffee table as an april fool’s. I think if I were treated to a prank like that i would ‘fool’ him back by having a major depressive episode for several months. See how he liked them apples.

      Thing about being on a promise for botox over more than 3 months is that I could confidently take the PhD or apply for another. Otherwise it’d probably be a bust. There is another option – were the Neuro hosp to mess me around I could go back to the migraine clinic, pay for a round and then go back to my doc and have him refer me there instead. Hopefully. Anyway WE WILL SEE.

  2. Pingback: Adventures, new ventures, and past ventures. Many ventures. All the venturing. | Lucy’s Football·

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