Lula is blind/diabetic/senile/elderly/mildly retarded. Any other dog would back out the way they came in. Not her. She's no quitter. She kept barrelling forward until she was jammed in there like a cork.
After assessing the scene and trying to get her to follow the sound of my voice to back out, I figured I would just get the broom and sort of sweep her out. She wouldn't budge. The space is only 6 inches wide at the widest point so there was no way I could fit back in there. I tried laying on top of the hot tub and scooting her with the broom. No luck. And now shes starting to howl. Its about 11:30. Paul calls. He just got my email. I'm panicking at this point and tell him about the stuck dumb ass.
"did you try scooting her out with a broom?" I guess we think alike.
So he says he's on his way home, but he's two hours away. In the mean time, I'll need to drain the hot tub. By myself. In the dark and its freakin freezing. So I start doing that. In my mind I'm trying to invent some kind of dog lasso so I can at least drag her out by one leg. Maybe if I grease her up some, she'll just pop free? So I dump at least 2 cups of olive oil on her back as much of it as I can reach. I try the broom again. She's howling like crazy and Paul calls back.
"someone said try bacon grease"
I told him I had already tried that. He's laughing his ass off. I don't blame him. I would have too, if I wasn''t the one all wet and freezing.
He's still driving. An hour and forty minutes to go. I start bailing water out of the hot tub with a bucket to make the process go faster. I'm hoping that if I can get it empty, I can move it the 1 and 3/4 inches to get her out.
Its about midnight. The asshole neighbor opens his door and screams "what the hell is going on out here?!" I'm not sure if he meant the wailing dog or the crashing of buckets of water. I say all snotty "sorry, my dog is stuck!" He goes back in and slams the door.
I'm trying to keep her quiet. The water is almost gone and this thing must way at least 800 pounds and its not moving an inch. I'm lying on the corner with my hand jammed down the crack petting her head. I try calling my friend Shannon to see if her and her husband can come and help, but shes not picking up her phone. I'm whispering now, so as not to disturb the asshole..."call me back, I need help!"
Lula starts licking the olive oil off my hand and she's at least being quiet. I run inside and get the peanut butter. It's 12:30. Paul keeps calling me to let me know how much longer it will be before he gets home. So I huddle down on the wet cement on the outside edge and let her lick peanut butter off me for an hour until he gets there. By the time he shows up, I'm totally numb and have just been liberally applying peanut butter to the wall. We try moving it together with no luck. Then he comes up with some crazy plan involving leverage, a board and a furniture dolly.
We're standing on the dolly while he jumps on the board to try and wedge it up. It moves an inch. He tries again and the board snaps but the fat ass has managed to free herself and is just standing there looking at us like WE'RE retarded. God damn, I was so relieved. I put her in the shower and scrubbed all the crap off of both of us. I totally hate peanut butter.
But I did get to watch my show after Paul fell asleep at 3 am. Nice.
This chair was jammed into a cubby by the nightstand where no one that had legs could sit. Paul suggested that that was where people did their coke.
View out the window...no screens...perfect for jumping from. That is an empty package of vanilla flavored incense. The whole room smelled enough like tea tree oil to gag you.
After dinner we caught a cab to the Filmore to see the show. I had a scotch and soda. Everyone was very stoned and so old that we looked like young scene kids in comparison (nice).
When the show was over, we went out searching for a taxi. After wandering around for about 20 minutes we decided to walk back to the hotel. Only of course it was farther away then we had thought (because we were drunk) and I was wearing non-sensible shoes. 20 blocks later we finally made it and decided to go drink some more. Once in our room, we could hear loud techno/middle eastern music and Paul insisted that the Moroccan place downstairs was still open and that we should continue drinking "magic drinks".
When we got there, we found out not only was it still open, but it was a hookah bar as well.
I know nothing about hookah, but I freakin love to smoke! We ordered an orange blossom one and some more magic drinks. The bar side had a distinct feel of an opium den, with lots of Japanese kids all looking spent and languishing on the low sofas.
I of course, underestimated the power of the hookah/magic drinks/scotch and soda
took a bunch of drunk bathroom pictures
When I got back from the bathroom...one of the waiters was breakdancing
According to Paul, I totally hate Belinda Carlisle when I'm really drunk. I have no idea why.
So the next morning of course, I'm too hung over to do any of the fun and exciting shopping things that the city has to offer. But I did manage to not puke in the car on the way home.
Friday I got to go to the Dr for what turned out to be pink eye! A delightful way to end my vacation as I am totally freaked out by eyeball stuff and have never used eye drops before. So I've been hiding inside my house since then, with one eye all droopy and swollen looking. I've been telling everyone that Paul did it because I just wouldn't listen. He hates that.
In addition to Madge the My Pretty Zombie Doll, the winner will also recieve a parasite pals bento box and eraser, Head Nurse Zombie Pocket Mirror, and promos from
So hurry...you know you want some!
