There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Are you all going to get into that tiny car?

In one of those oddly common "life imitates what it really is" moments, I looked out of the 2nd floor window of EduMart today and saw a clown walking toward the main entrance. I called a couple of people over just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I wasn't -- there was really a clown walking into the building. Only this one wasn't wearing an EduMart name tag. So I went about my business of leaving no child behind, but the next time I left my cube... There was another one. Eventually I checked my email, which informed me that this is actually National Clown Week, also known as the Scariest Week of the Year for most people, Stephen King included. To celebrate this joyous holiday, some genius had arranged for clowns to like, come and stand in our lobby. 'N' shit. Because there's nothing more that people like in the workplace than superfluous children's "entertainment." I guess they made some balloon animals, and it wasn't til later that I realized how lucky I was that LoudGirl hadn't gone down to see the clowns, because the first time I was in a social situation with her, we were in a bar which had, for reasons I still don't understand, a balloon sculpture artist on duty that night. LoudGirl told us all, slowly and often, how SKEERED OF BALLOONS she is. Everyone knew about the balloonophobia. Including people at the bank drive-through next door.

So I spent the rest of the day working on clown-related insults, which are more fun than they may initially sound.

For example: I walked up to someone, gestured toward their clothing, and said, "Did you know in advance that it was National Clown Week?"

"Umm, did you help with the balloons in the lobby? Oh, is that your regular make-up?"

"Aren't you going to change now? The clowns are gone..."

Then, like just a minute ago, I thought I smelled tuna salad that had been in the sun all day then mixed with pus and limberger cheese, but then I realized that Buster had inexplicably let go with his anal glands. My eyes were watering, but of course it just turned Katy on and she started humping him. Right now she's outside barking at a leaf or something. The only thing worser smelling than canine anal glands is feline anal glands. But these are pretty bad. Like gaggingly bad.

So, in order to prove that I am just incredibly moronic, I went ahead and scheduled a bidness trip ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. Because, you know, the monkey can just get himself off to school on his first day at a new school that isn't even anywhere near where we live because his anal-retentive control-freak father insists that the monkey go to school in his district, but of course, that parental unit does not currently live in this city, nor this state, nor even this country. So going out of town for two days is really pretty stupid. I mean, I knew when the first day of school was, but I just have trouble with stuff. Like real life.

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