Monday, 19 April 2010

"Kurbus Debelus"

How to translate that very significant term? Kurbus Debelus is something I could never have a doggie without. It superseds breeding, rank, pedigree and so forth. The dog can be the tristate champion amidst its peers and I would still not want it if it was not Kurbus Debelus. I am THAT strict about it. 

here are some pointers:

See what I mean?
The most relative translation of the term would be something like a 'fat fucking whore!' but it is by no means anything remotely ugly. Nothing to do with prostitution at all. The story behind it is very old and has Edko in it. It is just something that describes the puppy as I demand it to be: FAT. With large paws. Dumb loyal eyes that strip you of your dignity and make you start making the dumbest puppy noises and above all BIG FLUPPY EARS THAT YOU MUST SQUEEZE UNTIL YOU CRACK YOUR FRONT TEETH.  God should not be allowed to make puppies without it.

We are in a full fledged pursuit of a puppy. General has his people up, sis has her own and of course since I relate to muts and he relates to perfectionism, we now need to find a litter, money for it and school to create the flawless Kurbis Debelus hunter named something after a warcraft character. Nefarion or something. The very thought of having someone to go to the park with me every day is so exhilirating, I've been giggling all these hours.

Except now. I am SO tired. In the real world we've been splitting trees for firewood and that is a bitch all in its own turn. General has three injuries, but you should see the tree! I'm sorry I haven't taken any pickies, was to busy telemarketing for my future Kurbus Debelus. He is really good at it. He splits the trunks into daisies flailing the maul and whacking the iron thingies into the wood, making it tear and crack in this profound, rich, ancient sound of bicentennial things breaking. Unfortunately the day was so lovely, sun so shiney and air so early-spring cool we all danced around in short sleeves and his head got so fried over time it now looks like a baboon's butt. And the iron thingies flake and shoot splinters around like bullets. Few missed but few hit and he is a bit punctured. My village blacksmith :D

Off to watch Bear Gryll's Behind the Scenes. We love Bear. We know he's an overly-dramatic drinking game magnet, as he gets a) narrative b), gruesomely unappetizing and c) naked in every show, but I suppose I prefer this littl clown to gom around pretty places making super ninja moves on nature as oppose to some other REAL survivalist in some bleak and lonely circumstance, albeit way more realistic. I prefer TV to be a little bit more .... premeditated. It kind of traumatized me when that idiot Steve Irwin got sheeshkebabed and I kind of don't want to see that happen again to any media persona. Bear is just the right amount of cuteness and acrobatics for one to want to watch a lot and never ever want to kiss.