The final leg of the mini series triad!
Happy very belated birthday, potato head.
It has been a grand three years, and we hope to share tons more with you all.
growing up: Harlot Part 3
growing up: Harlot Part 2
Welcome to installment number 2 of Giant Spud becoming a dog.
This set doesn’t really have a theme, mostly because I didn’t think this whole series thing out beforehand, but for shits and giggles let’s call this one Middle Girth.
This was around the time that I really started to like her. And I don’t mean the generic kind of fondness, I mean this is when I actually formed the bond with her. It took us a few month, but we got there.
Her ears were still large enough at this point for me to fold over her eyes and play peek-a-boo with: a game she did not understand, but patiently went along with.
She’s the sea bear of my heart and the dumpling of my eye.
growing up: Harlot
My fluffy beanbag is three years old now, but it seems like forever ago when I first picked her up and thought “this is the world’s largest puppy”.
Since I regrettably haven’t been shooting anything of her lately, I thought I’d do a three-part mini series of my Harlot favorites. This installment is rather short as I skipped photographing micro-Harlot for a solid month and half — bad human!
However, I did NOT miss the gangly stage. Check out those ears! It’s like she got a transplant from a fennec fox (look it up – trust me, it’s well worth your time). This, by the way, was my favorite growth phase she went through, because she just looked plain ridiculous. 
There are many things that I miss, such as her blonde ear hair curls, her old granny white patch on her hip, and the floppy tipped ear. But she never grew out of the clumsiness, and that’s what’s really important.
another photo dump
dog vision & a growing hippo
Spring Break came late for me this year, but being that I’ve only had to survive one month of campus life so far, I guess it’s not a bad trade off. One of the classes I’m taking is a very basic still photography course, where we’re restricted to shooting monochrome, JPEG, manual, and iPhoto edits. In most scenarios I love the simplicity of these settings and really trying to get everything in-camera; however, Lightroom has been feeling the abandonment quite strongly.
It would be natural to assume that Harlot would take the position as my portfolio muse, but it wasn’t until this week that I actually tested out the monochrome on her. I got some much needed practice with manually focusing action shots.
In other news, Harlot is getting fat. She is a chunk and she continues to sneak into the hairy Spuds’ cage and steal all of their leftovers. And when the cage doors are locked, she manages to squeeze a chubby little paw through the bars and flip the bowls over so that the food bits can be scraped out one by one into her giant, fat, stinking pie cave. It’s ridiculous, but no matter how many times I threaten to change her name to Whale, she claims the extra weight makes lying on my face while I try to sleep more fun.
officially in orange country
As anticipated, the Spud gang and I have gone from one humid, mosquito infested place to an even more humid and mosquito infested place, but it’s really not all that bad (I reserve the right to retract that statement come summer time).
The neighborhood has only a handful of those snotty miniature humans stumbling around, and so far I’ve been able to time it so that we don’t run into any on our walks. Harlot has been surprisingly well behaved (by Harlot standards); she’s only tried to murder two cars and terrorize one jogger.
The hardest things for her is being restricted to just my bedroom and the kitchen/foyer areas. With an almost fully carpeted house, she has to learn her boundaries. Things will get better once we enclose the rest of the backyard. Then she can run wild and free, because this stallion refuses to be confined for long! Case in point, this morning she flattened herself out in froggy fashion at the door, leaving me with only the option of carrying her over the thresholds. She can be such a turd. I chalk it all up to her being depressed about leaving her cats behind in North Carolina, but mostly I know she’s just being turdish because that’s her god-given talent.
It has been almost three days since we moved in, and yesterday we discovered the local PetsMart–holy huge, Batman! We left with some poop bags and a new Kong bed for the satanic princess. She’s been dragging it around my room and folding herself in it like a taco to get the poofiness out of it. One corner is already permanently stained with her stinking saliva; she has a fetish for zippers.
At the moment, I’m still sleeping on an air mattress, crossing my fingers at night that Harlot won’t surprise attack my face and deflate the whole thing. My more permanent IKEA bed is scheduled to arrive next week, and then me and the turd will be slumbering it up college roommate style with bunk beds! It’s going to be sweet!
wintery sky poop: our favorite
baby beanbag’s wish for more snow was granted. she caught snowflakes on her tongue and plowed ground snow into her mouth all day yesterday. it’s all frozen to ice now, but the fluff was well enjoyed while it lasted.
let’s not pretend that i didn’t sing Frozen songs loud enough for neighbors to hear while frolicking around and throwing snowballs at Harlot’s face. trust me, she loves it.
that’s three snowfalls in the span of one winter. impressive for this side of the coast!
i can only hope for more before it’s time to make the move to the deeper south. it looks like the spuds will be making the journey with me, but Harlot continues to be threatened with a return ticket if she terrorizes our future apartment sharers. we shall see…
wasabi
lil b, feisty spud, ‘sabi, footstool; the names that i use for his precious existence are endless.
unlike the other obnoxious, but well loved idiots that make up the spud trio, Wasabi is snuggly perfection in all aspects. well, not the ten plus years of failed housebreaking, but everything else.
he loves everybody, will do anything, and is packaged in a baby lion body that makes me want to squeal with happiness at all times.
i mean, look at that, how many nuggets do you know that will perch on a post like an owl with no complaints? he is the golden child of this family, hands down. and the only reason i don’t kiss him more often is the foul smell of his breath.
it’s not his fault. he has a weird digestive system. seriously. he barfs after ingesting anything cooler than room temperature or that isn’t an unsalted cracker. he also eats chicken. but that sucker better not be chilled because picking up slimy half digested meat chunks is gross.
sushi
he’s called sassy spud for a reason. but sometimes i call him snarky sh** face instead. he has perfected the art of coughing for attention. apparently there are more lights on upstairs than originally credited to him because after an episode of kennel cough a few years ago, he learned that making little honky noises would get everyone’s attention and sympathy. only now it’s super annoying and makes him sounds like a newborn moose.
on the continued list of things that are annoying is his horrendous b.o. it’s suppose to be some scientific fact that dogs don’t sweat, but sushi proves the professionals wrong once again. that, or he’s some freak alien posing as a friendly canine like a real life Stitch. his gross secretions of oil make him smell permanently like a fuzzy frito.
but look how cute his face is. it almost makes his insistent, snobby personality worth it. he’s the cutest turdbutt you’ve ever laid eyes on, admit it.
Spuds 