There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


I need a helper monkey

After having read about the "Tour de Bar" from icantread, my boyfriend Greg has become obsessed with planning a similar event here. The obvious obstacles here are that a) he wants to manipulate other people into doing all of the work and planning so he just has to show up and drink (this is not a criticism -- basically, isn't that how we'd all live our lives if we could?), b) riding a bike anywhere in San Antonio is impossible for most of the year because it's tooo fucking hot for 10 months out of the year, c) most of the people we know don't have bikes. Obstacle c can be easily solved by a couple of trips to garage sales, or, if you're Gena, we will simply rent a Rascal for you.

Or, Rascals can be "borrowed" from our HR department, since there are so many people at work who are "handicapped" by their obesity. That's right! Being fat is now a handicap that gains you extra rights under the law! In addition to gaining you extra portions of potato salad and peach cobbler, you now get to park closer to the door so you can waddle in and sit on your scooter to avoid walking anywhere, because it's hard to walk when you're fat! It's hard for me to think when I'm drunk, so I guess I should get a blue hangy tag for my car so I can park closer to the door of the drinking establishment -- that way I can find my car more easily! Wow! Maybe I am also eligible for a helper monkey who can keep me from losing my purse when I'm drunk! Where's the ACLU when I need them?

In a related note, Greg seems to have forgotten the Tour de Pants, which I invented a full 3 years ago. The person who gets laid first gets the yellow jersey.

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