Dog House News

Happy ~~Breast~~.....oooops I mean Birthday for yesterday Pete!!!!

*popping a HUGE bottle of bubbly*

*throwing coloured streamers*

*Hip! Hip! Hooraaaayyyyyyy!!!*

I searched and searched the net last night looking for the purrrfect gift for ewe.....and spent embarrassing moments today trying to explain to Happy Mac and Midget why "big boobs"...."sexy girl in Birthday cake" and "perfect breasts" now pop up in the search line of Google! (True!) hehehe

Anyhoooo....as soon as I saw this cake I simply *knewwww* I had found what I was looking for!!

Have fun wrapping your laughing gear around it ;-))))

I'm having a miscarriage. A lot of women do. Some people tell me it's nothing to worry about. I'm sad. Tuesday, 2nd I went to the hospital this morning, as requested last Saturday. I had bled quite a lot during the weekend, but apparently the miscarriage is still to come. I have to go back there in a week's time. In the meanwhile, I just have to wait. I was offered medical treatment to speed things up. They are doing this "randomisation protocol". If you agree to take part in a study, they draw lots and give pills to some and nothing to others, to see if it's better or not to speed up the process. Anyway, much to their dismay (I think), I told them I was going to wait and see. Mother Nature's been doing this job for thousands of years, so why not trust her ? As always, after making a decision, I start to worry about having made the right one. In any case, if nothing happens before next week, they'll have to speed things up. I agreed to take sick leave, as I don't see the point of going to work and having to rush to the emergencies, or worse, have someone I don't know take me to a hospital near my workplace. So, it's wait wait wait from now on. I hope it won't be too painful. PS : will be posting in here as I don't feel like posting anything about this in B&P. I hope you don't mind. Any advice more than welcome. Huggs... and thanks for your support.
		from M'Zelle Jenny 11:22 AM

Oh my ! It's been a looooong time since I last posted something in the good old DHN... Nearly a month... (by the way, I'm beginning my third year in the DHN).Tututut, time does fly ! Anyway, it's good to be back here. Push over please, so I can sit close to the fire, enjoy the comfort of friendship and a nice cup of cocoa. There's somthing I've been wanting to tell you guys for quite a while, but I've been putting it off regularly... Have you already guessed what I'm going to say ? Yup, thought so... I haven't been exactly discreet about it, have I ? Anyway, there it is, I'm signing on for a lifetime of worries and plesaures : I'm expecting a baby. He or She should be joining this mad planet by the end of May. Of course, I'm very excited (and scared) about all this. Who wouldn't be ? It's a big adventure ! I hope everything goes well and I'm looking forward to the ultrasound scan which is scheduled for the 8th November. I am a wee bit worried because one of my friends has had a miscarriage recently and also because I have no signs that I am pregnant (apart from the obvious disappearance of the PMS and Co). No morning sickness, no nausea, no unusual sleepiness, no tender swelling breasts... No nothing. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I could do without these things... It's just a bit worrying. Anyway, I hear Candy is off to Hamburg soon ? Good for you ! You need the time to yourselves now and then. Working on the Hobbit house is fine, but it's not exactly a holiday, is it ? So enjoy yourselves, dance, drink, get tattooed from head to toes (lovely mermaid tattoo by the way) and paint the town purple ! Huggs to all of you !
		from M'Zelle Jenny 5:33 PM

as it's raining ... again! 'Puddle' Fire lanced out, found and consumed its prey. A brief scream reached my ears as the man was taken, devoured by the ferocious and hungry flame - yet I felt no heat. This was no fire that I understood. Another brilliant eruption, closer this time, made me duck and hide. Another scream silenced in mid cry, one more soul captured while languidly they pick us off one by one, patiently sterilizing the landscape. Remorseless in their cull of mankind, only their cold flame visible, engulfing and dispatching yet another human being. What these things are, is irrelevant. Survival is all that matters. The flames continue to appear - taking one, a hundred or a thousand lives at a time. If we could see them, maybe we could fight them. Around the world, in every city, town and country, mankind has been torched and devoured. Animals, wildlife, all remain untouched, human pets left alive next to the dust puddle remains of their former masters. How many of us are left? I do not know - but with two newborns, our small group is fighting back by learning to hide and survive, determined to nurture our new, and last, hope.
		from Jack 1:18 PM

Phewwww, just back here in time (before leaving for Hamburg, that is) to sit down and relax with a glass of dark red wine...ermmm, and with ewwws! lol Still thunderstorm outside (20°C earlier ... I thought it was almost winter here!) It feels good. I'm listening again at some of my Autumn music, something kinda slow and ethnic stuff. In a minute I'll have to check our accounts to see where we can find lil money for Hamburg. It's really unreasonnable luxuary to go there right now. It's like we do not have the money for it and even if we had the money, we think somewhere in the dark that it would be much better to use it for the house. But then, having a week during which Martin and I can spend a lot of time together is simply priceless. So we've voted for it. (Back. Done with the accounts. Enough with the $$ thingie). Can you imagine a real evening (tough an evening would not be enough!) with all of us in a good ol' pub? Would it be different from what we share here online? Would you understand my English, would I understand yours? hehe... I think you'd have troubles with Martin's English (which is a funny mixture of French and English..like the porte... for the door)..lol I think I'd be overexcited to spend time with ewws all. Euphoric thought. I think it would be just better than what we share online. And there would not be any bad surprise. We just don't know each other since a couple of months! I believe you know more of me now than most of my close French friends and relatives. That's amazing. I find we are all very loyal to each other. Always here... Dat's definatly precious. I think (I'm thinking a lot tonight! eeeeeck!) we'd share pretty good laughs while being together, and many winks too. LOL. Oh yup. The other question is... will it ever happen? At least before we all wear false teef? Dunno. But I've put it among my life's plans. The idea of never ever seing each other (again or for the first time) is just too tragic! It can't be this way!
		from Candy Froggie 9:22 PM

I am getting to be shy of posting in here as I seem to be clogging up the place with my stamp? Where is everyone? I am still doing my little 200 micro stories, but I put them into my web site these days. I am suffering from a writing block at the moment. I cannot write without constant revision which is driving me nuts! I seem to have lost that spontaneity. bummer. Here is the latest short I have just done. The banging on the door woke him, the noise turning the dull aching pain inside his head to sharp agony. “Go away!” he screamed, as much to the unwelcome intrusion as to his aching head. Picking up his empty glass, he threw it against the door where it shattered, silencing the banging. “And don’t come back, you bastards!” The heavy footsteps retreating from behind the door signaled his victory. They would be back soon, he knew they wanted her badly. She had to be released from his obsession. His rough hands, calloused and cut, caressed his prize tenderly. The contrast between them was sublime. Her form, smooth, delicate and precise, was everything he was not. Aloof and remote, her beauty inflamed his passions. She had become his whole world. He kept her to himself, shared her with no one, protecting her from the world. For now, she was his alone to worship. One day very soon, she would leave him and others would stare and wonder, understand his obsession. She was almost ready to face the world, his finest creation, flawless in the finest Italian marble.
		from Jack 1:37 PM

Remember that awful camp program Battlestar Galactica? Well, it has been reborn and I saw the first episode last night and I have to say it is gooood! Starbuck is now a girl and the naffness has been expunged. Cinema verite, dark and gritty realism replace the naffness. I think this is going to be good. I esecially like the acknowledgement of science. Explosions in space are silent, but the effects onboard a spaceship are not. At last, this used to annoy me no end. Spaceships do not 'roar' throgh space, they glide! Tonoght is the next episode, yayyy! Have a look at this guys sci-fi artwork, I love it!
		from Jack 9:32 AM

Bon Anniversaire, Jack! ~~~~* smooooches~~^* * If you had 3 selfish greedy wishes to make for your birthday, what would they be?^ (you never know, a guuuud and generous spirit might hear you!)
		from Candy Froggie 6:30 AM

'Shell' The drive to her final resting place was painful; memories came unbidden into my mind. We had shared so much. She had looked after me for many years, taken me to new adventures and experiences - even enabled me to become a man. Age had crept up so slowly I had hardly noticed. The smoking had become worse over the years, but was not the eventual cause of her death. Seduced in my youth by her Italian looks and rounded charms; her age had meant nothing to me as she embraced me that first time. I was smitten - yet thoughtlessly I abused her generosity, attending to her needs only when she complained. She might have lived longer if not for my callousness, but now it was too late, my regrets meant nothing; the cancer had taken hold of her and away from me. Nothing more could be done. I had tried, did my best at the eleventh hour. Every potion and remedy was applied in the hope of prolonged life, but I was thwarted at every turn. Though her mind was still sharp, the shell of her body rotted and died from terminal rust, the curse of Italian cars.
		from Jack 2:27 PM

In the name of information, can we show everything? Where is the limit between information and voyeurism? A question to which journalists would answer better than I... I think images, how crual they can be, how uncomfotable they might make us feel, are really necessary. I think the photos of the Iraqi prisonners being tortured or the one of the behaded soldiers were kinda necassery for instance (Martin thinks the contrary). War is far from us, from our routine, and such images have more power than words to show why there should have neber been any war there. But yet, I believe that a journalist has a human responsibility. How does he feels once he has sold his shots of dying children to magazines? Really, I don't know what to think. Without these courageaous journalists who risk their life, we would not know. But when you imagine a camera suddenly become more important than a helpful hand, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Anyway, there are "journalists" and "journalists". Some looking for the worse that they'll sell at a good price, others that have their own limits and respect for life.
		from Candy Froggie 7:58 AM

‘Confined’ Lola could just about reach the top rail of the bars that confined her. Frustratingly, they were just too high for her to climb over. She was trapped and angry. Why had they left her here? She just couldn’t understand. As a further torture, beyond the bars and out of reach, lay all that she ever wanted and desired. Such cruelty was beyond her. To be left alone here, parted from any love and affection, abandoned and removed from everything she ever wanted and needed, was too much. The tears poured down her face as she vented her pain, loss and anger to the darkness surrounding her. Her screams echoed her loneliness and brought some form of comfort; the very sound was her only companion. She determined to never stop, to proclaim the hurt until salvation or exhaustion clamed her. In the next room, her jailers could no longer ignore her. “Martin, it’s your turn,” she said wearily. “Yes, I know…” he answered with a sigh, leaving the warmth of his wife’s side to trudge to the baby’s bedroom.
		from Jack 11:41 AM

If you want to read some interesting and unpublished fiction go here, (you will find JackLadd here somewhere) Where am I? In the Village What do you want? Information Whose side are you on? That would be telling . . . We want Information You won't get it By hook or by crook . . . We will Who are you? The new Number Two Who is Number One? You are Number Six I am not a number . . . I'm a free man! (Mocking laughter) I am an origianl fan of this weird series, The Prisoner' Filmed in a mock Italian village on the coast of Wales, it was unique. From the moment we see him marching down a long, dark corridor, with intercut shots of his angry expression and the overhead cieling lights, then confronting the 'man' behind the desk, complete with tea and biscuits! Then screaming down an empty beach in a Lotus 7 sports car. Great stuff. The 'Village' excists, and you can stay at its expensive hotel if you want. Called Portmerrion.
		from Jack 1:32 PM

'Followed' The phone gave a small ‘ting’- almost a metallic sigh - as it received its handset back within its cradle. Tony stared, listening for a long second as the sound bounced around the metal and glass walls of the booth, amplified within its confines to a harshness that seemed cruel. Conflicting emotions swirled and distilled themselves within him as the noise faded. “You should go,” she had told him softly. “I don’t want to leave you,” he had muttered in reply, knowing that she would instantly recognise both the lie and truth within those hollow words - and that he was accepting her supposed demand, her proffered release. Neither had spoken of Love, neither of them had the courage to confront the awful responsibility that came with such powerful words. Better, safer, to keep unspoken such commitment - rather than to face the fear or rejection such announcements might bring. The door to the telephone box squealed in protest as he pushed it open, almost a wail at his decision to accept the promotion abroad and to leave. Deaf to his real needs, his mind ruled his heart, but his heart would forever remind him of the wrong path followed.
		from Jack 8:17 AM