Freshly Pegged: Wolves Are the New Lap Dogs

Haaaaaave you met Peg? I blog crush on her and her Reese’s Cups. (No, that’s not an euphemism.)

Have you heard about Peg’s series Freshly Pegged? That’s where I am today. Because you know who deserves to be Freshly Pegged?

Someone who laughs in the face of danger.

Someone who walks straight into a wolf’s den and says, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Someone who loves all things furry.

Me.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I once went on a date with a guy that I’m sure had his mother in his freezer at home. He spoke to me with his head tilted to the left and didn’t move his lips when he spoke. During the date I texted my BFF, ‘I know that he wants to wear my boobs for a hat, I do not want to be material for nipple beanies!’ I toughed out the comedy show and made a quick getaway. Thankfully he didn’t know where I live. Dating sucks.”—TrippyBeth

Just Me and Flipper

Despite not feeling well, I still managed to get in the water with a dolphin in the Florida Keys.

Meet Jax. Or AJ. I can’t remember which one shook fins with me.

*Please focus on the dolphin and not my never-seen-the-light-of-day tummy.

While Kiefer was scuba diving, I surprised Boo and Radley with a visit to the Dolphin Research Center (where Flipper lived). Below is a pic of both of the dolphins we interacted with.

Jax was rescued when he was about eight months old. He was all by himself and the victim of a shark attack, so he’s missing part of his dorsal fin, tail fluke, and right pectoral flipper. Tough little guy.

Not only did we get to touch the dolphins, we also gave commands that the trainers use, and got in a splash fight with the dolphins.

I learned a lot about dolphins, which I’m unable to share with you because once in the water, my mind began chanting,”Just let me touch the dolphin…Just let me touch the dolphin!”

Here’s what I remember:

• Dolphins are cute.
• Dolphins like ice cubes.
• Don’t get in a splash fight with a dolphin. The dolphin will win.
• Dolphins are huge.

Just like when a wolf sat in my lap, being in an animal’s environment and being vulnerable to that animal makes you realize just how big it is. And also how beautiful.

Thanks, DRC, for helping me cross something off my 35 Before 35 List.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Whenever I hear of something bad happening – like my friend’s oven door falling off on Thanksgiving and her trying to find someplace to finish her turkey – I think ‘that will be a good story when it stops sucking.’ So…I stand behind your spectacular death thesis.”—Kitten Thunder

How Not to Ski

Kiefer and I are going to Wisp for hot chocolate skiing this weekend. I’ve never been skiing, but  I’ve heard getting on and off the lift is tricky.

So I decided to watch Frozen for some tips. Frozen is about 3 skiers who get stuck on a ski lift.

After watching the movie, I really don’t think it’s very accurate. Here’s why:

• When it starts snowing, the ski resort closes. Isn’t snow ideal weather for skiing?
• Shawn Ashmore starts to get frostbite. But he’s Iceman from the X-Men! Iceman doesn’t get frostbite.
• Wolves eat someone. Wolves don’t eat people; they sit on their laps.

Despite the inaccuracies, I did learn a few things:

• When Dee Snider says, “The last chair is through,” don’t believe him.
• Don’t jump to the ground from the ski lift. Snow looks fluffy, but it’s not that fluffy.
• Don’t count on the girl to throw anything. She throws like a girl.
• Don’t touch the metal bar because you’ll freeze to it. (I think we all learned this from A Christmas Story.)

The most important thing I learned was that if you’re stuck on a ski lift, your best option is to unscrew the bolt. The chair will drop several feet, but a safety cable will keep it from hitting the ground. Once the chair has dropped, you’re at a safe level to jump from.

I probably just saved your life. You’re welcome.

So…like I said…I’m going to a ski resort this weekend to ski drink hot chocolate.

A Guest Post From My Blog Wife

I’d like to introduce you to my blog wife, Mrs. Amy Thoughts Appear. Or is it Ms.? Or Amy Fix-It-Or-Deal-Appear? Craaaaap. We didn’t discuss how Amy felt about changing her name. Or maybe I should change my name?

Let’s just stick with Amy at Fix It or Deal.

I can’t tell you how happy I was when I got the email from Thoughtsy letting me know that she had chosen me as her blog wife. Seriously, I can’t tell you. I got a reputation to keep, ya know. Anyway, let’s just say that I was “overly pleased,” and I may have needed a tissue.

We’re quite perfect for each other. I like zombies; she likes zombies. I like movies; she likes movies. I like cupcakes; she bakes cupcakes. It’s a match made in cyberspace.

So, what’s the best way for me to express my devotion to my new blog wife? With an homage, of course.

Without further ado, I present: What Thoughts Appear’s Blog Has Taught Me

• Pop-Tarts have a very loyal following, and flavor preferences are a very personal thing.
• If you pay close enough attention, you can learn something from any movie. Even one about arctic Nazi zombies.
• Florida has an amazing wolf sanctuary where the wolves will walk right up and sit on your lap. (And I experienced it for myself!)
• There is such as thing as “fake pants.”
• The US Army Physical Fitness Test is something that I never, ever want to attempt and push-ups are from the devil.
• If you eat something that is amazingly tasty, it probably has crack in it.
• There are a lot more steps to riding a mechanical bull than I ever imagined possible.
• David Zincenko is quite possibly the most miserable man on the planet and really, truly just needs to eat a funnel cake and live a little. Just do it, David. You know you wanna.

Many thanks to my blog wife for letting me take over her blog for a day. But, I guess what’s yours is mine now, right? Except your Pop-Tarts. I would never take those. It’s always good to know your boundaries in a marriage.

Amy, I will totally share my Pop-Tarts with you. That’s why they come in a 2-pack…for sharing.

Crocodiles and Sting Rays and Sharks, Oh My!

A shark bit me. I have the band aid to prove it.

That’s one sexy ankle, isn’t it? The shark thought so, too.

Hes looking at me funny.

I’m lucky that’s my only wound. I narrowly escaped death several times at the Florida Aquarium.

I wrestled a crocodile and escaped unscathed.

Stop looking at me!

So I was not about to tempt fate and pet the stingray. No siree.

I know what you did to the Crocodile Hunter....

 At the aquarium, you can pet sting rays. Notice that I said “you.” That’s because you can, but I cannot. I know I can’t because I tried.

I thrust my hand into the water, and every time one of those little buggers came near, I pulled out in a panic.

Pet a wolf? Hells yeah! Pet a penguin? I’m down. Pet a sting ray? Hell no!

The aqaurium has posters with proper petting instructions, but these instructions were tricky:

1. Use only 2 fingers. What about a finger and a thumb? Can I only use 1 finger? What about 1 finger from each hand?
2. Only touch the safe zone, not the danger zone.

The danger zone is the middle of the string ray, and the safe zone is the edges. But I ask you, how can you be sure you’re staying in the safe zone?

What if one of those little buggers is vindicative and just looking for an excuse to sting?

I put my two fingers in the water and reach for the wing of the sting ray. Suddenly, the ray fakes left, moves right, and my fingers end up in the danger zone.

WA-BAM!

No more Thoughts.

And…this is the last of my cruise posts. Sad thoughts all around.

As a side note, I didn’t realize the comments were off most of the day on yesterday’s post. They’re on now if you want to leave a comment teasing me about my 1 pushup.