Saturday, November 3, 2007

Man's Best Friend's Best Friend

It's yesterday morning.

ALARM
ALARM

See how I used capital letters to signify the loudness of the alarm? It's like I'm bringing you right into bed with me. Except I sleep on a couch.
I reach over to turn off my cell phone alarm, and instead put my hand into a pile of caramel.
This is how my day begins.
I'm conscious for twenty seconds and am already sticky.

Last night was spent within the safe confines of Kirk Bussey's apartment. Peter joined us.
I don't have any gems recorded, but it was an amusing night.
But when the hookers speak a different language than you, that's almost a given, isn't it folks?
Then they start striking their open palm with the tip of their index finger. Rattling on in German, or Mandarin, or what have you.
"Sorry, I can't understand what it is that you want."
My student loan is getting low.

Anyway, in other runoff, Shandera is getting a dog.
I look at this as my getting a dog as well. I am incredibly excited.
This will be a buddy for me in his apartment. It'll be good to visit him and finally have a friend to talk to when I get there.
I usually tell dogs all of my secrets.
I will take care of it when they go on trips. I'm already beginning to look forward to Robert and Christa's honeymoon.
Not as much as Robert is, though.

Alright readers, you take care of yourself. Get out there in that Saturday; absorb it.
I'm going to see if I can find myself a discarded fridge box.
For shelter? To build a little indoor fort?
Oh ho, readers...
No. Those guesses are wrong.


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