There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


What a feeling...

One wonders, because the White Noggin is such a perfect creation full of wonder and goodness, is there a way to fuck it up? Why, yes, dear. There is. The proper White Noggin has a noggy texture. There is enough NOG there to make it thick and rich. If you want to fuck up a White Noggin, make it in this ratio: 1 part nog, 8 parts Kahulua, 16 parts vodka, and 75665 parts ice. It's called a NOGgin. Not a NogBerg.

This has been an eventful weekend. There were cocktails with LoudGirl and RadioBoy on Friday during which fisticuffs could have happened, but didn't. Yesterday, we went to the Gun Show and bought $30 worth of food. Yeah, we're not right.

Why the Gun Show, one would ask? Because some day, one of these days, I will write A Novel, and I will need lots of descriptive characteristics related to the ragged, smelly underbelly of society. Hence, the Gun Show. Oh. My. God. If you ever want to be frightened beyond fear, if you ever get so cynical that "Saw" seems jejeune, then go to a gun show. The stereotypes? All based on fact. If I had wanted to, I could have purchased Nazi memorabilia there. Or a laser sight. Or a speed loader. Or a Turkish rifle. Or knives or bullet-proof vests or... the best sausage I've had in a long time. Now, I'm not saying that it was worth the price of admission, because I can get hemmed in and panicky for free, but the sausage (in the summer sausage family, smoked, delicious) was yum. Here's a terribly narrow-minded description of the cross-section of society one might find at the gun show: elderly white people who wear a lot of plaid flannel; thin, sharp, squinty elderly white people; young, brown, multi-pierced people (who is protecting who from whom??); people who ride around on Rascals for no apparent reason; people who ride around on Rascals due to amputations; people with no repeat no shall I say it again NO SENSE OF THE NEED FOR PERSONAL SPACE OF OTHERS. We saw a Rascal showdown -- I ride a Rascal so I have the right of way. But if I meet someone else on a Rascal, who goes first? How does this get decided?

So eventually we got lots of summer sausage, a bit of beef jerky, and two tubes of roasted nuts.

Then I had to go to the antiques store next door just to feel a little less dirty.

Then the greggers kind of bought a house, sort of.

Then Pumpernickel tried to nurse from Katy's empty, flaccid nipples and Katy did not like it, not one bit.

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