There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2005-04-18

Yeah, so not much happened...

Weekend update: Friday night we went to one of those events where you must buy tickets in order to buy anything else, such as beer, a trip down an inflatable slide, or Food on a Stick. These places are fabulous for the people-watching opportunities. So much plastic surgery (BIG boobies), so many 14 year-old hoochies dresses like 19 year-old hoochies, so much beer... The greggers ended up with an impressive stack of free beer cups, but they were serving the "frozen Margaritas" (red kool-aid slushies with tequila) in cheapy little Solo cups, so I ended up with just a bad headache. *Someone* got quite drinky and when we ran out of tickets, he was disappointed that he couldn't get any saltwater taffy, which in his mind is a street fair requirement. Then, like a miracle, he found 4 soggy, beer-soaked, stepped-on tickets on the ground and ran to the taffy booth like a little helmet-wearing Corky. You have to finish your cocktail before leaving the premises, so we were standing near the gate, sipping in a genteel manner, when this woman literally staggered past us, weaving through an imaginary crowd, feeling the earth tilt sideways. It was only 11:15! I don't usually stagger until past midnight. We half expected to find her in my yard in the morning.


We did not see WorkSlut snogging a carny or the pony ride guy, though. That was rather disappointing.

Saturday was a huge pile of nothing, as the greggers was all allergic to everything, including himself, and spent the day producing piles and piles of mucous. I did laundry and napped -- woowoo hoo! Look out! The greggers finally ate Thai food FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER on Saturday night, but he was so stuffy that he kept having to add Tabasco to it. Thatís right. I said the first time ever. How can someone be over 30 years old and not have eaten Thai food? Jeezy Kreezy. The highlight of Saturday occurred when the greggers was in the kitchen, and so was Pumpernickel (kitten), playing with the snake she had caught and brought into the house. She was flinging it up into the air, then pouncing on it and re-killing it. Fling! Pounce! Fling! She flung it accidentally up onto the kitchen counter where the greggers was doing some food preparation. HaHa! Making some food, making some food, la di dah, SNAKE FROM THE SKY!!! I had to give it back to her because he didn't want to touch it.

Then on Sunday, I became a Retail Harlot (although not THE retailharlot) (I know thatís going to come out just as text with percent signs, not as a link because Diaryland is still fucked up and we PAY for it, could you at least make it WORK??) due to the generosity of Uncle Sam and how he gives back what I overpay him with no interest. I know that if I didnít overpay him and instead invested that incremental money each paycheck, Iíd have gotten even MORE out of my own money, but psychology doesnít work that way. If I have the money, it gets frittered away, so itís simply safer for me to let Unky Sam keep it for a while. A trip to Target + World Market = a lot of assembly required when I get home from work. I now have a coffee table that my dogs probably canít easily steal from or knock things over onto. Having a place to put your drink is really what separates us from the animal kingdom.

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