There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Let's face it, boys. I'm pooped.

Pet peeve o' the day:

When people say something like "I'm going back to school to get my Ph.D."

Well, YOU don't have a Ph.D. so there is no such thing in your universe as MY Ph.D. After you get it you may call it YOUR Ph.D. if you want to sound like a pompous ass. Until you actually have it in your hands, it is only hypothetical. As a hypothetical entity, it cannot belong to you. Moron.
It's not like there are a bunch of graduate degrees sitting around with people's names on them.

True story: This past weekend I was in the grocery store with my monkey, who had wandered off to find junk food. This old drunk guy came up to me and said "Hey blondie. Your hair is nice and curly." Which it was due to the constant humidity here. I thanked him although I wasn't sure it was actually a compliment. It seemed like the safe thing to do.

Just then my monkey walked up. The guy looked at him, looked back at me, and said "He's not going to smack me, is he? I was just being nice."

This may be the first time the monkey has come in handy since he was about 4 years old. One day when monkey-boy was 4 and in the car with me, I was pulled over for speeding. Monkey started sobbing hysterically, asking "What happens to me if you go to jail?" in a plaintive wail, over and over again. The police officer was laughing so hard that he didn't give me a ticket. It's been a long dry spell, monkey.

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