When your last blog post is titled "Pedialyte and Peanut Butter", it feels awkward to write down my feelings about the tragedy that occurred today in Boston. It's much easier to write about your dog doing dumb stuff and posting funny pictures. Here goes anyways...

A marathon is 26.2 miles. I couldn't run that far in a week. I can only imagine how amazing the feeling must be to cross the finish line of an event like the Boston Marathon. Today was supposed to be a celebration for the thousands of people that completed this test of physical endurance. Instead, our nation is mourning after two explosions occurred 600 feet before the finish line.

The first image I saw of the bombing was from one of my twitter followers. It clearly showed a person whose entire leg from the thigh down had been ripped off, blood freely flowing from the wound. Instantly I became sick to my stomach. It's almost 9pm right now and the sickness in my stomach hasn't gone away. Why? I've seen plenty of horrific images in my life.

Tonight I think I figured it out. It would be a tragic story to hear about a runner being killed 600 feet before finishing the race of their life. But then I realized that it would be much more gut wrenchingly sad to find out your loved ones, including your children, were killed on the sidelines while cheering you on.

Alright guys, I have some shocking news. You may want to take a seat, and if you're already sitting, please stand up and then sit back down. Thank you. No brace yourselves...

I have ADHD.

I know, I know, please pick your jaws up off the floor and pick up the little pieces of your brain because I sure your mind was just blown.

Anyway...what was I talking about?...ah yes, ADHD. One of the small joys that comes from having a short attention span, other than getting some sweet generic Adderall (which don't worry, my doctor clearly told me they aren't for sniffing and should only be taken orally) is that I am easily entertained.

So for your viewing pleasure I am going to start a segment (similar to Boomer Don't Give A Shit) called "5 Second Attention" where I will be uploading short videos and animations that I have made with my 5 second attention span.

So let's get this party started off right...

You know that you and your best friend/Hetero Life Partner share a truly strong Bromance when even your dogs begin to behave like each other.

Exhibit A:


Kuma don't give a shit.

 "Are you sitting there? Oh well I think I am going to sit here too. Don't mind me, I am actually 1/3 parrot and 1/3 cat as well as dog. I hope you like dog butt in your face."

I guess when you're only 20lbs you can make anywhere your seat. anywhere.

Look at those moves!

Technology has come a long way. I remember when my dad got a beeper, and thinking "wow, this is the single coolest thing to happen in my life." On a side note, I didn't have many friends or lead a very exciting life at the age of 6.

This this bit of technological ingenuity came into the world:
And try as you might, it won't ever leave. Seriously, these things are indestructible. We should just drop these out bad boys out of planes instead of bombs.

Now with technology, I am able to write this glorious little post while sitting on the toilet, on my phone. Don't judge me, I know you are all on Facebook while you're taking care of business. You're all like "OMG look at this puppy!" "Like this post or you hate baby pandas" or "Don't take my guns from me, I am an A'Merican!"

But there is one part of technology that I think people are having a hard time understanding when it is and isn't appropriate to use. Face Time, while cool and fun to use, it should really be limited to only being used while in the privacy of ones own house. Not just once but on several occasions I have come across someone using Face Time in public.

One time while at work there was a girl walking around grocery shopping while using Face Time with her friend. As much as I love Corey or even Alison, I honestly wouldn't ever want to use this while they were grocery shopping. And I am pretty sure that neither of them care enough about me to want to sit on the phone fore 30 minutes while I debate over Quinoa or Couscous.

This girl was walking around, holding her phone up so her friend could see her while she yapped away on her, this is the best part, HANDS FREE headset. I just can't fathom why or how this girl thought that this idea was both a good one and a necessary one. It's one thing to talk on the phone while grocery shopping because at least then everyone else just has to listen to your voice, but with Face Time she was practically asking the whole grocery store to come be a part of her conversation.

Next time I see someone using Face Time in public, I've decided that I am going to walk up and start participating in the conversation. I'll just walk up mid conversation and start throwing in my two cents or answer a question that one of them asks. If you don't want me to be in your private conversation, don't make it public by using Face Time when you're not at home.

Also, I am pretty sure Face Time is primarily used for showing each other your junk. I know that's how I would use it if I had it.

My dog is so photogenic. He looked right into the camera!

This special moment was captured on a recent camping trip with some friends of ours. We didn't bring enough beer to handle a situation like this.

Maybe it was their youthful rough housing earlier in the day, or maybe it was the fresh mountain air that put him in the mood, but my dog Boomer was going to have his way. 50 Shades of Grey kind of way.

You would think the still attached leash would kill the mood right? Or maybe the general unwillingness to participate in the activity at hand from the other dog would do the trick (I believe that's what the open mouth, teeth lunging towards Boomers neck indicates). But it didn't. And you know why? Cause Boomer don't give a shit.

What will this little angel do next? I hope you'll come back to find out what he does next in Vol. 2.

While out at dinner with the fiancée tonight at a small local Chinese cuisine eatery, P.F. Changs. You may have heard of it. I made a strange, but not surprisingly new realization. I don't always wear the pants in my relationship.






Not those pants, nobody should wear those pants. Except for maybe a Russian MC Hammer.

This realization came to me after discussing who was going to pay for dinner. I looked back on our dinning experience so far. Alison being the more outspoken and outgoing, had naturally ordered for the both of us. Now before you start picturing a scene in which the following phrase was said by Alison "I'll have the Kung-Pao Scallops, and the lady will have Mongolian Beef." It wasn't like that at all.

We had decided on doing the "Four Course Meal for $39.95" deal. The waiter asked if we had decided on what options we had chosen, and Alison was the one to speak up first. Ordering for the both of us, while all I was able to sputter out at the waiter was "white rice please." This was piled on top of me being driven to this romantic date night by my fiancée, in her own car.

After we had completed our meal, followed by the "Great Wall of Chocolate" (the most manly of the deserts. This comment is covered in as much sarcasm as that slice of cake was covered in chocolate) the waiter placed the bill on the table. We discussed who was buying lunch the following day and who should pay for dinner tonight. Deciding on Alison paying for dinner we slipped her card in the holder under the gift card we had decided to use as well. I can only imagine the thoughts that went through our waiters head as he read the name on the card. Not because she was a girl paying for dinner, it's the 21st century, women can do what they want.

I can see it now, our waiter was probably waiting for Alison to help me put my jacket on and give me a quick pat on the butt as we walked out. Followed by her opening my car door for me and letting me in first. I am not complaining though, it's nice to have a sugar mama. But I am aware that once I graduate and get a big boy job, that I will have to repay Alison with nights out in which she doesn't end up paying for our meal. I will eventually have to purchase and wear the pants in this relationship.

Preferably these pants. Hot damn do I want these pants. But until that time arrives, I can hope that Alison doesn't get fed up with me and cuts me off.