Google and my retarded dogs

I think that my googling is out of hand.  I mean, really.  During a Skype conversation last night, I looked up my computer's history to see the things I've googled in the past week.  It was shocking to me.  Google is no longer a website or a place, it's a noun.  For me, it's an addiction.  Just to give a sample of my history from the past 7 days, here are a few things I have googled:

• est ce que tu lyrics
• Gilbert Gottfried's real voice
• How to check for bed bugs
• Was Jackie on Roseanne gay?
• how to get your book published
• Can you buy sperm online?
• Should I start therapy?
• heroin
• Why should I write a book?
• What shouldn't I tell my therapist?
• developmental psychology springfield, mo
• books that sell
• colors lyrics
• Who the hell just called me?
• hominy
• How much retirement should I have by age 30?
• Can you freeze fresh spinach?
• egg flower soup
• Is my dog retarded?
• Can therapists have you committed?
• hardcore pawn

Ok, ok.  I'm not going to list all of the searches but this should give any of my readers a good idea of how nutso I am.  Nutso or not, I did learn a great deal from Google this week.  Gilbert Gottfried's real voice is soooo damn creepy.  I'd rather hear that high-pitched,  fake, woman-in-distress squawk than his real voice anyday.  Yes, you can buy sperm online.  I'm not sure which is more disturbing, the fact that you can buy sperm online or that I was curious enough to Google it.  While I googled "Why should I write a book, " I found a very sad and depressing blog about why I SHOULDN'T write a book.  Great.  That's why I'm blogging right now instead of writing on my book... or googling.  Is my dog retarded?  I'm pretty sure that at least 2 of them are.

I'll explain...

Bert spent approximately 5 hours yesterday with duct tape wrapped around his ears.  He was just as happy as ever.  I woke up in the middle of the night and actually felt a twinge of guilt that I would tape my dog just to pull myself out of depression.  So, I snuggled Bert up close to me and kissed him on the head, slowly removed the duct tape, and then proceeded to announce to him that he's a dumbass.  He yawned, circled three or four times, and went back to sleep.  Cute...but dumb.  Bert is also my boy who has an extreme fascination with his own tail.  He chases it.  I mean, chases it like if he doesn't succeed in catching it, the world will end.  He stops at nothing to retrieve that blasted tail.  Smacking into walls, Steve's legs, nor furniture will stop him.  When I see him twirling after his heiny, I swear I can hear him saying, "I'm gonna getcha, I'm gonna getcha, I'm gonna getcha!"


Then, there is Scuba Steve.  Now, I'm not sure if Steve is mentally challenged or if he is just extremely clumsy.  Today, I watched him do a very impressive spin on my freshly mopped living room floor.  Trying to catch up with Bert, he appeared to attempt a triple lutz without success.  I watched in horror as I saw my big man's legs fly up and in slow motion, he landed face first onto the hardwood.  Had he really been ice skating, I'm sure the cold would have felt much better than the wet hardwood.  Bless him.  Within a second of his face plant, he jumped to his feet and snorted like a bull.  Of course, I grabbed him and looked him over to make sure he was okay.  That was a serious fall that scared me as much as it scared him.  Steve was fine... and so was my hardwood.  Yes, he hit so hard, I checked for a crack in the floor too.

Google is an invaluable tool to me.  I'm not sure that I consider my retarded dogs 'tools,' but they are definitely invaluable too.  They fill a void for me and make me feel not so alone.  Google gives me the answers, but my retarded dogs give me the love that I need.  They satisfy my need for human interaction and allow me to feel somewhat normal.  Retarded or not, I love them.

~Nancy Drew