There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


I don't really think children are our future.

Djever get that feeling that a 747 is about to land on your head or like you're just standing in the middle of the interstate, waiting to be crushed by a semi truck headed to Whale Mart with a load of polyester clothes? It's the feeling that Wile E. Coyote should frequently have, but where would the fun be if he stopped buying Acme products and managed to avoid the traps that the Roadrunner sets? That's the feeling that I have now ALL OF THE TIME even though I'm a grown-up and should have learned to manage my time, stress, life, etc. I have so much school work to do and most of it is in the realm of independent study.

In my world, "independent study" means "ignore this until it's time to panic." And it's really not even time to panic yet, but jeezy chreezy, I am panicking early. EARLY. Is that what managing your time means? You panic waay early? Fuck time management.

This weekend I gave Buster another haircut and bathed him and Katy and you would have thought I filled the tub with ACID and was rubbing lemon juice into their eyes because I'm so mean and I wanted them to be clean. Dragging 70 reluctant pounds into the tub is hard, but then so is keeping those pounds in the tub. And brown? The rinse water that came off that boy was the color of the mighty Mississippi, only dirtier and smellier and fuller of fleas. After he got out of the tub, he went outside and hid in a bush, til he was again dragged out and brushed. Then once he realized just how hot and sexy he looked, he spent the rest of the day prancing and posing. You could just see his walnut working: "I look like a Labrador!" His bath took about 8 ounces of shampoo; Katy's took about 1 ounce. But she hated it just as much.

Sunday was BBQ day (Omaha Steaks are worth every penny!) and Monday was recovery day. Sunday was also "I Will Not Allow the Cornbread to Defeat Me!" day, as I made two pans of flat, lifeless, hard cornbread, but then hauled out an old recipe that never fails. And it didn't fail. As a matter of fact, it was so good we made another batch with corn, jalapenos, and pepper jack cheese mixed in. Yum! That's 4 batches of corn bread. I'm a moron.

I would like for someone to explain to me what precisely is the difference between passing out (like from drinking) and falling asleep (when you're drunk). After about two drinks, I get tired. Tired enough to fall asleep at 9:30. Tie Urd. Taard. Is this passing out or is it just falling asleep and how does one differentiate between the two?

News flash! The lazy no-good sumbitch who sits next to me but never works seems to have shown up just now! More to come as this story develops....

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birth & death