DOG GETS BEER FROM FRIDGE - DOG GETS BEER

DOG GETS BEER FROM FRIDGE - COLD PLATE FREEZERS.

Dog Gets Beer From Fridge


dog gets beer from fridge
    fridge
  • A refrigerator
  • A refrigerator is a cooling apparatus. The common household appliance (often called a "fridge" for short) comprises a thermally insulated compartment and a heat pump—chemical or mechanical means—to transfer heat from it to the external environment (i.e.
  • Fridge is a 2006 television and print advertising campaign launched by Diageo to promote canned Guinness-brand stout in the United Kingdom. The campaign was handled by advertising agency Abbott Mead Vickers BBDO. The television piece was directed by J J Keith, and shot in the Czech Republic.
  • electric refrigerator: a refrigerator in which the coolant is pumped around by an electric motor
    beer
  • a general name for alcoholic beverages made by fermenting a cereal (or mixture of cereals) flavored with hops
  • Beer is the world's most widely consumed and probably the oldest of alcoholic beverages; it is the third most popular drink overall, after water and tea.
  • "Beer" is the fifth episode of the BBC sitcom Blackadder II, the second series of Blackadder, which was set in Elizabethan England from 1558 to 1603.
  • An alcoholic drink made from yeast-fermented malt flavored with hops
  • Any of several other fermented drinks
    dog
  • The male of an animal of the dog family, or of some other mammals such as the otter
  • a member of the genus Canis (probably descended from the common wolf) that has been domesticated by man since prehistoric times; occurs in many breeds; "the dog barked all night"
  • chase: go after with the intent to catch; "The policeman chased the mugger down the alley"; "the dog chased the rabbit"
  • A domesticated carnivorous mammal that typically has a long snout, an acute sense of smell, and a barking, howling, or whining voice. It is widely kept as a pet or for work or field sports
  • A wild animal of the dog family
  • frump: a dull unattractive unpleasant girl or woman; "she got a reputation as a frump"; "she's a real dog"

breathe out
breathe out
Tonight was a bad night. And a good night. I've been in a mood since I realized it's June already. I'm almost feeling...manic. Stress will do that to you I suppose. The thing is that I hate being down...it's not my style, it's not my life anymore. I choose happiness. My life is moving forward and changing, and I'm responsible for it and my own feelings. But tonight something happened. It sounds really silly. I was in the kitchen, going through my fridge. I just wasn't sure what was in there, or what I wanted. And I saw something in the fridge that made me cry. Something I don't pay attention to, something that has just been in every fridge of mine for over two years now. It's nothing morbid, nor is it a science experiment of some sort. It's simply a bottle, a little bottle of Southern Comfort. Ironic something with "Comfort" in the title would set off such a strong reaction. I found myself crying, inconsolable, in my kitchen, with my dogs staring at me. Which struck me as funny. It's been like this for days now. I'm not moving to flee my life and memories. Sadly, memories come with you. There's no cure there for memories or past hurt. The truth is that I've never wanted to be in NH to begin with. I was moved here against my will, away from friends and family and all I had known as a child, to the middle of nowhere, and every time it snowed I would ask my parents what the hell was wrong with them and to tell me just what we were doing in NH anyway. The end was in sight. I'd been accepted at Hunter College in NY. I was going to major in English and minor in theatre so I could be a high school English teacher, and the drama advisor. I had plans. I think we all had those plans in high school, where we'd be by 30. I hate people who stuck to those plans, by the way. I think life gets in the way too often to stick to a lot of plans. And people who prove me wrong...well, I wonder where their life went awry that they managed to stick to their plan, I wonder how uneventful and organized things must have been for them. And that's what happened to me. My life has been eventful and disorganized. My life became...not my own. I got sucked into a life I knew nothing about and came out the other side knowing less, trusting few, and damned bitter that I wasn't making 17k a year as an English teacher. But out of my shock and grief, after leaving the life that wasn't my own, I found my way again. Friends returned, I made new bonds, I started living my life...only to realize it was still really someone else's. I hadn't moved on so much as left one small portion behind, I was doing the same things, going to the same places, seeing the same people. The cycle wasn't going to end. And I still wasn't happy in NH. I've still never considered myself as being "from" here. I just happened to wind up here and my escape plans were thwarted by impetuous decisions and delusions of love. I have been trying to figure out how to once again make my escape, now that I'm thoroughly involved up to my eyes here in NH, the state I loathe. It's not the friendships I want to leave; those are irreplaceable, though certainly I will add new names to the Christmas card list annually. It's not the memories; those stay with you. The snow is a big factor. I can't lie about that. I hate the cold. It's not really any one thing...except my incredible desire to have my own life. I feel like I'm finally able to make a choice, for myself, entirely for myself, and not consider my family or friends or pets or school or work...I feel like I finally said "enough" to my obligations and decided to do something for me. I couldn't be happier with the decision. If everything goes wrong...at least I won't wonder for the rest of my life if I should have left when I had the chance. And herein lies the stress...it's been put upon myself entirely by myself. I chose the timeline, the location, the everything this life change entails. And tonight I found myself confronted with a memory that won't leave me, crying in my kitchen, and then cracking up over the dogs looking concerned. The truth is that I did really consider my friends, my family, my step daughter who has it worse than anyone I know, my coworkers. But after all the considerations I still need to take care of me. So, like the song goes, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. I have to finish packing. I have to rely on the kindness of others for two months so I don't wind up living in my car this summer with those two silly dogs and my ancient cat. But it's all temporary and it's all leading to the thing I want most: my life. My life started over. My life really moving forward this time, not just lateral, forward. That makes me smile. But I still might come across some memories packing that will leave me in tears. And in general I'm okay with that. I don't think crying is the end of the world, although I hate being alone right now. I hate packing by mys
it's my four year flickrversary!
it's my four year flickrversary!
or A real lush always takes her beer to the can. Four years ago my best friend sent me to flickr, said I needed to join. I did, and what serendipity the recommendation wound up being. Literally changed my life! Since last year, my stream has had 18,624 views, for a total of 54,516. A considerable leap over the previous 3 years, wherein I averaged 11k views a year. Not too shabby. I posted just 156 images, vs. the 600 or so I posted in the previous year. So my image post has plummeted, and my view count is up! (Related note: my most viewed photo has over 22k views, and counting.) And now for the non-technical aspects of a year past. I lived with a room mate for the first time in my life, briefly, before leaving NH. An old coworker put me up for the two months between my lease ending and my move to Oregon. It wasn't awful, in fact, we had some great times and I miss her quite a lot! I walked in my last 4th of July parade in Wolfeboro, NH, with the Village Players. I spent the night with my feet in the big lake, dangling off the dock at my office, with great friends and a bottle of wine, watching the fireworks with the best view in town and the greatest company you could ask for. I went to my first concert with Patrick for my birthday, we saw The Police and Elvis Costello and danced the night away. I attended a heart breaking funeral for a friend who died unexpectedly. He had just turned 29; he was four days younger than me. I had almost escaped NH without a funeral in over two years. It wasn't meant to be, I guess. On the bright side, we had a lovely, much-needed reunion at his funeral. I am still making an effort to keep in touch with people I saw that afternoon. I even recently wrote to his mother. I drove 3000 miles with two dogs, and my disgusting cat. I hate Nebraska, and left Wyoming with two new tires and a healthy fear of monkey pox. I spent six months unemployed. I cried. I cried a lot. Then I cried some more. I nearly drove Patrick to throwing my ass in the street, more than once, I'm sure. I missed my friends. I won Best Actress in a Musical at an awards show in NH I attended with Patrick in the fall. I keep the award in our living room, with the envelope and everything. Who could have guessed I'd win an award for playing a Puerto Rican? I cried some more when Obama won. I went sledding on the glaciers of Mt. Rainier. On a trash bag. After climbing most of it. And can't wait to return! I spent my first Thanksgiving away from Tamara and the kids. It broke my heart. I got snowed in for a week, didn't even get mail. Neither snow nor rain nor sleet my ass. I also called everyone I know back east to roar with laughter about the snow plows having chains, and how they drop rocks instead of sand. AWESOME for your windshield. Way to plan, Portland. I went to my first flickr meet up. I saw Henry Rollins. I saw a boulder smash a tripod on a hilarious waterfall trip. I finally started making my own friends out here. I even planned a girls' night out, it was a rousing success. I finally learned my way around town and don't have a panic attack every time I have to go somewhere new. I got a job, finally. And left it a month later for a better job. Better paying, anyway. I ran over my camera. I got a NEW camera. I can't imagine my life without said new camera. I missed Christmas entirely. I finally shot the Tulip Festival. I saw snow at the Japanese Gardens. A few times. I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, and visited Alcatraz and the Winchester Mystery House. I went to the top of the Space Needle. I have visited the Volcanic National Monument in Bend. I have seen Redwoods, again. I have put on the dreaded ten pounds I was so pleased to lose last year. The food here is just too good. Did I mention I cried a lot? I made it to a waterfall I thought I'd never see. I have taken a nude self portrait. To be posted some time soon. I discovered an amazing artist on a rainy weekend at Cannon Beach. I showed out of town friends the best Portland has to offer, and one Manhattanite might just wind up here in the future he liked it so much. I got a gym membership and used it once. I made a friend who I didn't meet on flickr. All my friends in Oregon are from flickr, you see. I won a flickr meet up photo contest. I happen to know a professional cellist who put on a private concert for me and Patrick one night. I painted my Holga and my tripod pink. I got a wide angle lens for a quarter. And I clicked my ruby heels...and wound up here, in Portland, beer in hand.

dog gets beer from fridge
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