westie

Feral bankers, enchanted muskrats and black velvet…

~ thepurpledogpaintingblog ~ 16 Comments

Well hello to all the real people and the nice spambots who have been filling up my spam comment catcher.

Sometimes I wonder if spambots have souls. Well actually I never wonder that. I know they are soulless creatures floating in the internet universe desperately hoping that someone will notice them. I once had a friend, more of an acquaintance really, who like spambots would go to great lengths to get anybody with a pulse to talk to her. We would all go out dancing and her chest would be tethered and strapped so high that if she had even attempted the first move in the Watusi, she would have knocked herself out cold. And forget hiphop, that would have put her right in a coma. So just remember, if you ever get tempted to reply to a spambot, you’re just inviting a boozy, strapped in, tethered up, pulse seeking, lousy coma prone dancer into your home.

Occasionally it is tempting to answer them, especially when they give me comments like this..

“I adore foregathering useful info, this post has got me even more info!”

What a flirt, not only can he foregather which I’m assuming is some bizarre psychic thing, he enjoys my usefulness in pointing out tap dancing baby giraffes, bird drowning bigfoots and silly billboards.  I can quite honestly say of all the things I thought could be said about this blog, useful was not one of them.

This one just said

“There you will find 40528 more Infos”.

Infos..with a capitol “I”.  40528 of them. I think it’s trying to get me curious enough to check out it’s Infos. But I don’t want 40528 Infos, I only want a little bit of Info and that my dear spambot is…Who counted all those Infos. And how did you keep track? Did you use a really big abacus or do they come rolled like pennies. And do they smell like pennies? There’s a terrible smell. And it attracts bankers. A cold shiver went down my spine at the thought of attracting bankers. Be careful folks once a banker starts tracking down that penny smell, you’ll be in trouble. The next thing you know you’ll have feral bankers living behind your house, breeding like crazy, scaring your dogs and knocking over your garbage cans looking for torn up bills. Then you’ll have to listen to them maniacally laughing while they try to piece them back together. Let me tell, you have to shred that paper really good or really well..whichever you prefer.

I know, spambot, I know. The simplest explanation is that you have 2026 employees who counted on their fingers and toes and one employee who after a horrible Infoaccident lost three digits on each extremity. That’s very sad, Infoaccidents are terrible things, you shouldn’t mock the guy and make him keep counting on his poor mangled extremities. And in protest until you do I’m not checking out your link. I won’t be a party to such a lackadaisical attitude towards Infoaccidents.

This one tried to trick me into believing my site wasn’t working.

“I’m not certain exactly why but this web website is loading incredibly slow for me. Is anyone else having this issue or is it a issue on my end? I’ll check back later and see if the issue still exists”

Buddy, I’d like to help you but I have no idea how this site works. For all I know, enchanted muskrats could be taking care of it while I’m not around. And anyway, you probably just need a better internet connection. I suggest using cable.

This spambot was really clever. It said..

“I’ve just been talking to Sean Gallagher about his upcoming Instant Income Cash Machine course, and he’s been kind enough to fill me in on a couple of details regarding his upcoming course. “

That’s right, it tried to fool me into thinking it was my mother by telling me pointless gossip about people I don’t know. Throw in a trip to the grocery store where there was some nice produce (my mother once left me a six minute message about the nice onions she bought at the grocery store. I don’t even like onions), a story about the Hysterical I mean Historical Society and some random observations about “Raccoons” which is what she calls UFO’s so no one thinks she is crazy and you might have had me fooled.

And this one just outright tried me order around.

“You should have relevant usage of Bold and italics..panda”

All I have to say to that is.. NO! and who are you calling panda?

Well I was through amusing myself with spambots after that so I took to going through some of the more ridiculous filters on my photo editing program. It’s an old Microsoft one and like all the good programs they come out with they promptly discontinued it when they realized it actually worked. I would use Photoshop or Corel, but my computer has a glitch in it that doesn’t allow me to download either one. It runs on Windows 7 which is kind of like Windows Vista which is nothing like XP which actually worked and thus was discontinued. I’d listen to my Zune, which I liked better then the IPod but I can’t find the power charging cord. I’d buy a new one but alas..that’s right…discontinued.

So to make a long story short (hahahahaha, man I crack myself up) there’s this filter that turns photos into a neonish, little bit tacky, little bit garish, sort of black velvet painting with a modern twist. I mean who can resist that right.

Well I managed to resist it for seven long years.. then I realized I could do this to my dog. I would show you a nicely taken photo of my dog but for that fact that I took him to the groomer last week. She apparently mistook him for a poodle on crack mixed with a Clydesdale mixed with a bat that had had unnatural relations with a primate. He had weird poufy things going on and long shaggy legs, bat ears and a shaved nose, back and bottom to boot. The poor dog looked a baboon from behind. A baboon with weird ass poodle poufs. And bat ears. And Clydesdale legs. So I cut off the weird poodle poufs, bat ears and Clydesdale legs but there’s just nothing I can do about the baboon thing, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t go for a toupee.

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“The Groomer did What?!?”

westie neon

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©Virginia Spencer, thepurpledogpaintingblog, 2012

Birdstalking Part 2 or How the Catbird Sought Revenge..

~ thepurpledogpaintingblog ~ 12 Comments

So.

Hello.

I’m trying to come up with a better opening line that that.

But I’m exhausted.

Tuckered out, you might say. Dog tired, bushwhacked, fatigued, lethargic, pooped even.

I mean downright weary.

Why? Well, let me tell you why…

There’s a catbird living in my tree.

That’s right a catbird, I said. To be specific, a Grey Catbird, also known as the Slate Colored Mockingbird.

For those of who you have never met a catbird, yes, they do meow.

They also cluck and cackle and caw. And they coo and cheep and twitter and peep.

And occasionally they whistle.

But the one thing they never do, the One Thing no catbird would ever dream of, the ONE THING that never ever, in the history of animal kind, a catbird has ever done is to..

SHUT UP!!

They sing in the morning, they sing at night.

They sing in the dark, they sing in the light.

They sing when they’re hungry and happy and sad.

They sing when they’re excited, tense or mad!

(They also make me write like a Dr. Seuss wannabe. That mocking thing is contagious)

So I decided to fix his little red wagon and fry his chestnuts. He was done as dinner.

I turned back to my bird stalking ways. I cleaned my camera lens and it was on..

I tried in vain to get a photo of him with his mouth shut.

But I only managed to get photos of him with his mouth open.

He was singing to the left…

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He was singing to the right..

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Hmmmm… that’s not working…I need help…

Oh Mr Hummingbird, thank you for offering your services. Yes, you stick your tongue out at him.

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Oh dear, Mr Hummingbird. Yes it is awfully hard to mock a mockingbird. They enjoy it, the sickos.

But thank you for trying. I appreciate the effort.

Mr. Cardinal? You have an idea, you say?

You’re going to give him the Awesomely Malevolent Evil Eye as only a Cardinal with a capitol ‘C’ can?

Wonderful..Give it your best shot.

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Hmmm, Nice, but no banana.

Mr Bluejay, You’re going to what!?! Screech it away?

No!! No!! It’s a mockingbird!! For the love of God!!! Don’t teach it how to screech!!

Sorry, beg your pardon, lost my composure for a minute. It really is mimicking you quite well.

Yes that is how you sound, you can sit up in that tree and be as offended as you like but that is the noise that you make.

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So finches? Any ideas?

You’re too busy playing ‘One Finch, Two Finch, Three Finch, Four!’ to help out a friend?

Yes I do realize catbirds chase cats. And dogs. And hawks and sometimes people too.

I also know that it’s been observed that other birds will actually line up and watch them when they are doing so.

It’s true. Everyone loves a show.

Fine, finches, go on with your game.

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I think I know what will do it.

That’s right I called the Great North American White Wookie. It says…

“Arggggg…grrrr…gargle…gargle… arggggg!!!!”

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Nothing? Really?

Well, I guess it’s time to ask the Honorable Zen Master Tree Frog for advice..

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Hold up now. It’s upset you too? The Honorable Zen Master Tree Frog?

The Catbird stole your moves? and your mating calls?

The Nerve! The Gall!  The sheer unadulterated insolence of that Grey Catbird slash Slate Colored Mockingbird!

Dummy! Come quick! The Honorable Zen Master Tree Frog needs you!

That’s a good Dummy, you cheer him up and I will settle this for once and for all.

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Catbird, I didn’t want to have to do this. You left me no choice.

It shouldn’t have come to this but when you push people to extremes they go to…well..extremes.

By the power invested in me as President, Vice President, Treasurer, Clerk, Recorder and Supporting Cast of Birdstalkers Anonymous (Quad Cities, IA/IL Chapter) I call the..

The …

Get ready folks…

The..

Hide the children…

The..

Avert your eyes…

The (and this is the technical name)..

The Dastardly, Heinous, Ghastly, Loathsome, Menacing, Razor Toothed, Jagged Jawed, Mother Nature, that is one mean looking mother but it does have exceptionally pretty eyes for a goose Goose.

We call him Al for short.

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So what do you have to say now Catbird?

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Yea, I thought you’d have nothing to say

Wait a minute..What is that? Humidity? Oh it’s Hot!  I guess it’s time to turn on the Central Air so my house doesn’t turn into an oven. You know when I turn on the Central Air so my house doesn’t turn into an oven, I can’t hear outside.

Never mind, Catbird. Carry on.

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Now I have some peace, I can get back to painting.

This is from a photo in Wetcanvas‘s RIL by Dave Slaughter. Thank you to him for it’s use.

This is acrylic, 4×4 inches and it’s a Mountain Bluebird.

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©Virginia Spencer, thepurpledogpaintingblog, 2012

And a cat named Henry..

~ thepurpledogpaintingblog ~ 29 Comments

This is an acrylic of my backyard.

I’m very fortunate.

It’s lovely and has a large expanse of beautifully kept grass (seriously there’s no creeping charlie or crabgrass!!) that flows to a rather steep forested ravine where deer, rabbits, foxes, snakes, possums, raccoons, owls, turkeys and all sorts of other furred and feathered creatures frolic.

Unfortunately I also have a klutzy dog who likes to frolic too.

So there was Sampson frolicking and rollicking when he hit the steep part of the ravine.

And away he went.

I saw it in slow motion, he tumbled and rolled and tumbled some more….It was like watching a little furry snowball, flashing white against a backdrop of autumnal browns and purples and even though I appreciated the juxtaposition of colors, my heart stopped.

Anyway.  I ran down, he ran past me going up. I ran back up.

Then I realized he couldn’t use his leg. And he was very sad. We had to go the vet.

My vet is in the town of Milan. If you read that and pronounced it like you would expect, you were wrong! It’s pronounced “my-land” and if you pronounce it the way most normal people on this planet pronounce it, they snicker behind your back and think you’re a fancy pants. My vet’s office however has the name of the town down the road on it even though it’s not in that town probably because people can pronounce that name. But Milan or My-land, I secured Sampson in my car and off we went.

At which point in a town of 5000 people, I ran into a traffic jam.I called the vet from the car. Don’t worry, I always keep my hands on the wheel. I have one of those Bluetooth things (though I don’t know why it’s called Bluetooth, the last time I checked my phone it did not have teeth nor was it blue). The phone works through my stereo and the buttons on my steering wheel, I’m not quite sure how it works but I think it involves small magic leprechauns and a cat named Henry.  The first time someone called me I was listening to “Rock Lobster” loudly. It rang, and for a moment I thought the record had skipped then after a moment I remembered that it was not 1980 and deejays don’t use records anymore plus the odometer display was flashing what looked like my house phone number. Either my house was calling me or I had driven much further then I meant to. I panicked and pressed every button in my car and ended up listening to Muzak. I never did find out why my house called me. It’s never called again. I think it’s mad and wants new carpets.

But I digress. I called the vet to tell them I was stuck in a traffic jam and seeing as it is a town of 5000 people, they already knew.

There I was stuck in a traffic jam and I was looking around keeping myself occupied when Sampson’s window rolled down.  I put it back  up. And it rolled down. I put it back up. And It rolled down. I looked over at him. He looked at me. Then he smiled. And I realized that it was not an accident. Sampson knows how to work the buttons. That rotten dog can’t seem to figure out that’s it not a good idea to run amok in a steep ravine but he can figure out how to open a window. And to boot it was only 42 degrees out. I would have put the child locks on but I don’t know where they are and ever since the Muzak incident I’m little paranoid about touching anything. I sometimes get the feeling that the little magic leprechauns and the cat named Henry are very disappointed in me.

But after twenty minutes I managed to drive the block and a half to the vets and park. I went to gently pick up Sampson even though my hands were blocks of ice. He then jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to the vets. On all four legs!

Son of a……..

To make a long story short (if you can believe that at this point, you’re, I’m sure a very nice person but gullible. You should work on that) Sampson did injure himself but not badly. He apparently has a floating patella. The vet showed me how to put it back if it slid again and gave him some anti-inflammatories (isn’t that a double negative, shouldn’t it just be flammatories). The vet said, it’s fairly common in small dogs and not a big deal. I’ve never had a small dog before Sampson. I did go home and ask Zeus how his patellas were and he said fine. And I asked how his parents’ and siblings’ patellas were. He wasn’t sure so he texted them and they texted back saying their patellas were just fine as well. There you go, it must be true.

All is well.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

And to my family who may have mistakenly assumed I’ve been in the kitchen baking all this time…you silly silly fools.. yes the brandy and eggnog is nearly gone but there will be pie and buttertarts.

Just be careful how you bite into them.

The pink rabbit is missing.

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©Virginia Spencer, thepurpledogpaintingblog.com, 2011