There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


A new use for toast

Holy crap. It's a really bad idea to stay up til like 2 a.m. (or 2 a, if you want to be all fancy-pants Britishy about it) drinking vodka tonics and watching the Ryder Cup finals. It's especially stupid when you don't even like golf. It was hard to get up this morning. And hard to stay awake during the long-ass meeting. But Tuesday is Margarita night -- yay!! So I have to go buy some Cointreau, some limes (like 80 cents each!), and some fricking ice cube trays, because while I can drink Margaritas straight up, I don't really want to. Yesterday, I went to this touristy palace place where the aristocracy who lives there can't afford it anymore so they have to let people in for money. They have a little cafe in there, and when I asked for a diet Coke, I got a paper cup full of diet Coke. Warm, straight up diet Coke. Bad food, worse weather, Mary fuckin Poppins, to quote.

So, when I'm buying these limes for which an entire race of people was named, perhaps I should also get some tortilla chips and make some nachos. No, I won't! Because stores here don't HAVE tortilla chips!! They have potato chips flavored with bacon, they have them flavored like fish and mustard (all in the same chip!), but tortilla chips? Nah. So I'll substitute something for the chips -- like toast, or something. After two Margaritas, no one will give a rat's ass.

Which reminds me, I never did tell Sharon about the unfortunate string of rat sightings under my refrigerator. Still, I'm pretty sure that I plugged the rat hole. On the other hand, Adventure Baby was seen playing with a dead rat... Dilemma, dilemma. Oh, I'm sure the incremental cats will keep them away. OK, I know I bitch a lot (I'm not apologizing or offering to stop), but here's a fabulous thing: I can get my groceries delivered to me! And my groceries can include booze! I can't wait until I have a real address so the booze truck knows where to stop! Yay!

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