Due to two big ass dogs, I sincerely doubt anyone would be in the house.

There is that. I know that at least once the scary looking and noisy doberman has scared off an intruder.

Question--if you open the door to your house and it sounds like maybe someone's in there, or something's up, what's the time/distance to your first effective weapon, and what weapon in it.

3-4 seconds, bayonet. Though in reality, I'd probably leave and call the cops from my car.

Oz is probably my best weapon. If he is not flipping out or urinating on the intruder in question, he's probably dead.

Remember, your voice is your best weapon!

My only “weapons” are my two big shepherds. They, too, have scared off at least one person trying to break into our house.

Older brother has supposedly agreed to go into a 6 day detox program. Little brother has agreed to clean up his own act after older bro gets out and goes job searching. Promises promises. I wish older bro would just stroke out already, I can't deal with his shit, or with my family enabling him, and I won't visit my parents until he's no longer living with them (in my bedroom). I tried to disown his ass in highschool and I wish I'd stuck to my guns instead of this fake shit I've been living with where I play nice so my parents don't hate me for being a cold bitch.

Was supposed to have today off, but there were things that needed doing, and then omg there were Things That Needed Doing on top of those things and why did I think things would be less crazy after the gala?! I have a volunteer group for six hours that I need to set up projects for, and despite the fact that it rained all last week, with a spectacular deluge on Friday, we've been running around like crazy with sprinklers today on wilting plants (I think more to do with the heat than the soil being dry).

And then two hours lost for me and intern on a useless fucking docent who doesn't know his shit and I should have had the balls to say "see ya next year!" when he failed his first practice tour.

Yeah, nobody's going to break in if they've paid any attention at all. TNG may be a weenie, but she's a GSD and she barks at everyone.

Good thing, too, because I have no weapons near the front door, unless you count my running shoes or a dog leash.

Anyone who had broken in would be slowed down by the 25 pounds of dog clamped on his ankle. The door I normally enter through is next to the utility room, which is where my tools are. I could grab a hammer or the water shut-off thing, which is basically a length of rebar. The closest things to hand would be books. I could throw them and yell "Hark!"

Re: Kindly Brontosaurus

It's one thing to stand nearby and keep making eye contact when the seat assignment you had has disappeared and quite another to brontosaurus your way ahead of people in line or to make people work after hours. The proper response to that sort of behavior is the Angry Ankylosaurus.

Then my mom called for a "quick question" and after I told her that my day was going to shit and there was too much to do, she continued to ramble. Including the classic, "well, I'll let you go --oh, there was this funny thing the dog did...". And I seriously considered telling her I had to go and hanging up on her. But fuck, that's rude, especially since she's my mom, and I know she's going crazy dealing with the fucked up men in our family (always include my sweet dad in that statement, because he'd happily let his first son drink himself to death in my room if it meant he didn't have to acknowledge that things were not pleasant and copacetic).

I think I need a prescription of Prozac or something. I am passionately angry all the time now. I have to admit that it's not just stress or PMSing, I have become an angry person. I am caustic and negative, and things really aren't that bad (if you ignore the psychopathic part of me that wishes for my elder brother's death, and admit that I am disturbed enough that that really isn't a stressor).

It sounds like a lot of stress from multiple sources, Juliebird. Anger's not a surprising reaction. But if the stressors can't be changed, getting some medical support could help. I needed antidepressants when caring for my dying dad, and they were tremendously helpful.