Filling a void

This is Windchaser.  But as Jen and I have decided, we’ll keep the name as such, officially, but frankly, we’re just going to call him Chase. He is half Maltese and half Shih Tzu.  He is our new dog.

Since the unfortunate departures of the other two dogs back in October and December, the house has been a little on the quiet side.  Now I’ll be the first to admit that there was a sense of liberation at not feeling the obligation that either one of us needed to be home as soon as possible, but there was also a void left behind by having a home with zero dogs in it.

Chase is a rescue from the Atlanta Humane Society.  Apparently, his previous history is having been owned by a hoarder in Alabama.  Based on his timid behavior and reluctance to walk on a leash, it’s evident that there was a lot of neglect and lacking in human contact in his life.  But amazingly, the way he warms up and interacts with the cats of the house, it’s obvious he’s right at home with other animals.  It doesn’t take a genius to know what kind of upbringing Chase had.

Admittedly, I was unaware of how big the void was until the seed of having another dog was planted in my head.  The more I thought about it, the more I missed having a dog.  The more I looked and was shown dogs up for adoption, the more my heart broke at the thought of perfectly adequate dogs sitting in kennels with ticking clocks above them.  Before I knew it, the last few days were spent looking around for potential dogs.

Rescuing a dog like Chase is way superior of a choice than simply buying a dog from a breeder; I wouldn’t learn to love a dog bred and raised properly any less than a rescue, but with a rescue, I genuinely feel like I’m doing something better, by rescuing a dog from eventual euthanasia, and giving it a better life.  From the moment the paperwork was done, his life can only get better, with true, willing owners.

Chase may look like a puppy, but he is estimated to be around six years old.  Dogs with some years on them are harder to adopt out, since so many people want the innocence and cuteness of puppies.  Frankly, I didn’t really care about the age, I just want some good canine companionship.

So, we’re back to the world of being tethered to the house.  Lingering at the gym, trivia nights, and baseball games will have to be considering there’s a dog at the house that could have accidents if left alone for way too long.  Weekend trips aren’t necessarily possible without someone house-sitting or someone to watch over a dog at their place.

But the way Chase follows myself and Jen around the house already, despite his initial hesitation, the pitter-pat sound of a dog trotting around, exploring his new abode, and the light wagging of a pleased tail, disregards all those trite details.  The most incredible thing about Chase so far is the fact that he’s so cognitive of the television; sure I have a big screen and all, but the way he looks up and stares at the screen, and actually reacts to sudden loud sounds that comes from it is kind of fascinating.  Makes me wonder what else was going on in that hoarder’s house in his old life.

I think I’d rather be dead than have frightening B.O.

Rotting taco meat.

That’s probably the best description of the smell emanating from the guy next to me on the stair master machine.  It was kind of unbelievable, because I can’t say that I’ve ever smelled that kind of funk from any human being in my entire life.  It was like the myth of sweating what you eat was actually coming true from this guy or something.

All I know is that it was making me sick to my stomach, and that it turned my stair climbing session into the worst 25 minutes of my entire life.  I seriously can’t fathom how such an odor can come from an actual person.

I don’t think it has to be said, but the guy was fat.  He was also dripping sweat like Sid Justice used to back in old WWF, but he was going at a significantly lower pace than I was.  When the smell hit me, I literally stumbled briefly, my foot not making it all the way up the next step, kicking the very top instead.  I fought through the nausea, and turned my head to the left, just to find less pungent, breathable oxygen.  And then some dude had to come and start using the machine right next to me, so out of discretion and not wanting to give off the impression that I would be constantly staring right at this guy, I was forced to maintain a looking forward position.

The stench was absolute misery.  Once again, I must exclaim my disbelief that such a foul funk was actually coming out of another human being.  I typically don’t like to watch clocks when doing any sort of cardio exercise, but time simply couldn’t move fast enough to get me away from the smell.

I want people I know to be honest with me; from what I understand, people have a difficult time identifying if they have any body odors, because we tend to be so used to them that we don’t notice them.  It may not be something that’s easily controllable, but the least I could do is attempt to alleviate, or at least mask it or something.  But seriously, I don’t want to end up like Mr. Smells Like Rotten Taco Meat.  It’s embarrassing, disgusting, and most of all, painfully inconsiderate to those around.

I’m pretty sure I’d rather be dead than to be known as the funky B.O. guy.

Photos: Moar camera practicing with baseball

I took my DSLR out to Lawrenceville, to practice taking pictures during a minor league baseball game.  Admittedly, I’m still getting used to needing to be a little more intricate with focus, and the processing process dealing with RAWs.  But I do like the versatility that it brings, and I look forward to hopefully getting better as time progresses.

But I am loving some of the results, and if anything at all, that I can get some fairly sweet closer-up pictures.  The deal with all the pitcher pictures is that this guy is Julio Teheran, and if everything goes right in the world, he’ll be a really, really, really good pitcher for the Atlanta Braves for the next four to six years. Read more »

Mass Effect romances, explained by Saved by the Bell

Throughout playing the Mass Effect series, one of the more intriguing side objectives is pursuing a relationship.  Each of the three games gives you choices for your Commander Shepards to pursue, and depending on if you import your data from one game to the other, it mildly alters the relationship paths, based on your choices from ME1 to ME2 to ME3.  Which is one of the only things you really can alter, to say the least.  Oops; did I write that out loud?

Anyway, with the number of possible relationships available throughout the series, it got me thinking.  Which is never a good thing, because then we end up with the conclusion that Commander Shepard is pretty much the futuristic Zack Morris of the galaxy.  And that all possible relationships throughout the Mass Effect series, are easily relatable to all of the girls that Zack Morris was involved with at some point throughout the entire Saved by the Bell series.

Naturally, since I’ve only played as the male Shepard, we’re only going to go through his potential conquests.  Suffice to say, these are probably classified as spoilers if you haven’t played through all three games yet.

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A pet peeve

Say you’re driving down a very desolate, flat straight road out in the middle of nowhere.  You can see far ahead and far behind you for miles.  You’re also driving with a friend who is driving their own car.  For whatever reason, you wish to drive parallel to your friend, so you hop into the oncoming lane, and begin driving right next to your friend.

Eventually, in the distance you see a car coming.  What do you do?

Obviously, you let off the gas, and get back behind your friend, or space permitting, you apply the gas, and get in front.  Otherwise, you  will end up in a head-on collision, and probably someone ends up dead, or at least severely injured.

If the answer is so simple when it comes to driving cars, why is it so difficult for people to grasp when simply walking?

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