Hey! Check it out! The wife is actually using the computer! I’m pretty proud of myself. I even did a little on-line Christmas shopping. Guess who has on her big girl pants now!
I wanted to say a little something regarding our shitty (can I say that on here?) New Year’s Eve. See, I hadn’t heard any horror stories about the dog. Just that he was nervous around people. And that the dog didn’t like Darin (which is so odd, since Darin is the nicest, most non-threatening guy I know). Me being the animal lover, I just didn’t see that this dog was vicious. Just scared. I took my time hanging around the dog, and he eventually was rolling and rubbing his face on me. He seemed very happy. All the commotion in the house just scared him and I was the first thing he saw.
The first two days, I felt a little nervous when Ferris would lay on her back and roll over toward me, showing her big happy face and a mouth full of teeth. But this doesn’t change how I feel about animals. I even took my son to a shelter on Saturday and we hung out with the pooches. Stitches and all. And yes, all my other stitches (50 total in the face now….8 from jumping off my brother’s bed and hitting the mattress frame between my eyebrows) were from the dog we had when I was little.So the scared feeling I had when I was a kid definitely came back. I can’t imagine how Wil must have felt when I looked over at him with a mouthful of blood. He kept himself together though.
After my swelling went down a bit (I must say, I was kind of enjoying my Kim Basinger-like full pouting lips) I read the comments that were posted after Wil wrote about this. I am so touched by all of the ‘mojo’ and kind words everyone has sent. I was amazed to read all of the stories of dog bite incidences, as well as several stories of shitty (did we find out if I can say that yet?) New Year’s had by others. At least it was the end of a year, so we can all have a fresh new start!
The bite was a nice straight slice so I think it will heal fine with little scarring. My stitches are a lovely shade of blue which I’ve kind of gotten used to now. I won’t miss them when they’re gone though. And hopefully this will be the last time a dog uses my face for a chomping pad.Wil was right, it could have been so much worse.
Thank you so much for your concern. You are all awesome! No wonder Wil likes doing this website.
Take care and have a healthy, happy, injury-free year!
Anne (the wife)

From an e-mail:

Hi! I was browsing your site, and saw that you mentioned a Kent Purser. Now, keep in mind that I am a nerd, and the fact I had a chemistry teacher who may or may not have known a cast member of Star Trek: TNG excited me. So I planned on asking him about it, the only problem is I had graduated from high school already and wasn’t in the area. None of my lazy friends who were still in high school would ask him if he was indeed the Kent Purser who knew Wil Wheaton, so I had to wait until I went back to visit last week. He was indeed the Kent mentioned in your Star Wars toy story (Do you still get those? I got the coolest Jabba’s Palace one a while ago.) So yeah, Kent is now a chemistry high school teacher. He watched some Star Trek: TNG (Bet you wanted to know that), and claims he used to beat you up in school. I’m not sure if I believe him on the beating up part though. If you want, I’ll send you a picture of him (He looks somewhat goatish. A goatee will do that.) Adieu

Response:
Ha! Kent never beat me up. As a matter of fact, the only bully who ever beat me up was Joey Carnes, and that was just two hits: his fist hitting my nose, and my body hitting the ground.
Kent was one of The Cool Kids who I so desperately wanted to be friends with. Since he was a Cool Kid and I was a Total Geek that just wasn’t going to happen. He picked on me a lot, but that really doesn’t put him in any great club — everyone picked on me in grade school, because I was a Total Geek.
However, he did humiliate me pretty hardcore one time. In 5th grade, I was sitting off to the side of the playground, looking over a Monster Manual, or Player’s Handbook or something, when Kent and some of the other Cool Kids — Jimmy Galvin, Scott Anderson, Brandon Springs — walked by, heatedly discussing Schoolhouse Rock. Kent shouted over his shoulder to me, “Hey Wil, do you watch Schoolhouse Rock?”
I loved Schoolhouse Rock, and got up early on Saturdays to watch it at 6:00 a.m. before Superfriends. I knew the entire preamble to the Constitution, understood the complexities of Manifest Destiny, and was a math whiz, because of my devotion to SHR. I would often sing “Verb! That’s what’s happenin’!” in my head while waiting for my parents to pick me up from school. But we were in 5th grade, and I hadn’t heard enough of their conversation to know if I was supposed to answer in the affirmative, or not. So I flipped a mental coin, and sneered. “No way,” I laughed, summoning all the contempt and scorn I could muster. I did my best to sound like our principal, Mr Schultz, during one of his long lectures about the dangers of rock music. “Schoolhouse Rock is stupid. It’s totally for babies.”
I sat back, anxiously awaiting their agreement and approval. Maybe they’d welcome me into their circle for a few days, and they wouldn’t throw at my head when we played dodgeball in PE.
Kent made a braying sound, and topped my carefully measured derision. “For babies?! Schoolhouse Rock is cool, Wil. I watch it every chance I get.”
Kent and The Cool Kids all laughed, and walked away. My face began to sting, anticipating PE.