I think I might have found a breed my dog is related to….

(Must be related to the Anatolian Shepherd which I have always thought Roxy was partially…)

(Looked it up, and indeed the Anatolian is said to have been bred from the Kangal.)

Oh and here’s my dog… similar, but smaller I think, and with big bat ears that don’t seem common to any of these breeds!

It is kind of scary how little I have progressed over the years. Or how aware I was of how hard the world is, even back then.

When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.
And all the birds in the trees, well they’d be singing so happily,
Joyfully, playfully watching me.
But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible,
Logical, responsible, practical.
And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,
Clinical, intellectual, cynical.

There are times when all the worlds asleep,
The questions run too deep
For such a simple man.
Wont you please, please tell me what we’ve learned
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am.

Now watch what you say or they’ll be calling you a radical,
Liberal, fanatical, criminal.
Wont you sign up your name, wed like to feel you’re
Acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable!

At night, when all the worlds asleep,
The questions run so deep
For such a simple man.
Wont you please, please tell me what we’ve learned
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am.

“I was inclined to think the whole thing was a hoax, but maybe that’s because a tribe of noble Ukrainian girl-warriors sounds too awesome to be true in this cold, cruel world.”

I LOVE this image. It seems to haunt me.

In the Ukraine, a country where females are victims of sexual trafficking and gender oppression, a new tribe of empowered women is emerging. Calling themselves the “Asgarda”, the women seek complete autonomy from men. Residing in the Carpathian Mountains, the tribe is comprised of 150 women of varying ages, primarily students, led by 30 year-old Katerina Tarnouska. Reviving the tribal traditions of the Scythian Amazons of ancient Greek mythology, the Asgarda train in martial arts, taught by former Soviet karate master, Volodymyr Stepanovytch, and learn life skills and sciences in order to become ideal women. Little physical documentation existed on the tribe, until recently, when renowned French photographer, Guillaume Herbaut, met the Asgarda back in 2004 in the midst of the Orange Revolution.

Something about this is so amazingly kick-ass. I hope it is real. Also I really wish there was an all-female guild in Warcraft called Asgarda!

“Criticism is something you can easily avoid by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.”

Here is a cute doggie pal of mine.

Cause it’s been a while.

what dreams cause me
to abandon my pillow each night?
push away each of them, in fact
since there always seem to be more than one
then wake to aching stiff neck twisted
tits and face smashed against the mattress
legs and arms akimbo
like the high pitched body of a jumper
waiting for her chalk outline
finally at rest

by Ani DiFranco

While at a death metal show a couple weeks ago, my coworkers wife was telling me about this article she wrote. Upon my insistence, she put it up on her blog for all to enjoy!

The guy in front of me is sweating like a pig, and a minute ago he smacked me in the face with his wet, stringy hair. Some of it got in my mouth, and even though it didn’t taste like anything, I want to brush my teeth. Or gargle. Or something. I can still feel the texture of that sweat-soaked mane on my lips, like the trail a slug leaves in the dirt, and it makes me want to retch.

The guy’s being a real ass, trying to climb on the backs of the guys in front of him, reaching out his arms to the stage. In his desperation, he elbows the dude next to him in the face. I’ve tried to back away, but I’m scared to move too much – the guy behind me is seven feet tall, and he’s bald, and he has a neck tattoo.

I want to go home. My feet hurt, my makeup’s running, and the smell in the middle of the mosh pit is unbearable. If I fell down right now, I’m sure I’d be trampled by a stampede of combat boots. I can’t understand a word the band is saying – possibly something about torture? Kittens? Norse mythology? It’s hard to tell when they growl so much. This is, undoubtedly, one of the worst moments of my life. I’m a girl! What the hell am I doing here?

I scan the crowd, looking for my husband, Henrik, and find him at the foot of the stage. He’s entranced by the music, roaring along with the lyrics, banging his head to the music with everyone else. It’s as though the rest of the world has disappeared. And even though he’s scowling, and kinda looks like a demon, his eyes are sparkling.

READ THE REST HERE! She is a great writer.

Innocent victim of an abandoned hobby. Or a bunny suicide.

Setting myself up for frustration with inevitable missing pieces!

Can you believe only one other of these cards were dirty? #falseadvertising

#blatantselfpromotion