SB has good news: Ginger, the Diarrhetic Wunderkind, seems finally to be improving. I have only had to let her ass out once each night for the past two nights. I have also had to clean up no excrement on the fucking floor. I feel nearly optimistic this morning, and that's equivalent to an ecstatic morning for most of you fuckers, who for some twisted reason, actually like mornings.
We had BIG WIND (no, not Ginger) here last night. It was so BIG in fact, that when I looked outside, the goddamn fully-loaded-with-cheap-beer-cans recycling bin was gone. Smack dab gone. I looked this morning, but it is as if the recycling bin had just performed some sort of Star Trek-like beam-up. And no, SB is NOT A TREKKIE, so don't start trying to strike up a friendship based upon a mutual appreciation of Kirk or Spock or some shit because frankly my ass would rather watch paint dry than watch Star Dreck. BORING.
My old boss, David Mazer, did remind me of Spock though. He had all the human warmth of Spock, and his dumb ass was always asking for "data." Do you have data to support that? So Spock sort of has a bad association for me.
Sometimes, when I argue with Mr. SB, I tell him that I don't buy what he's saying, and I've got to see some data for that shit. I AM NOT BELIEVING ANYTHING UNTIL I SEE SOME FUCKING DATA!
SB had a great time with her old friend, L., last night. We drank some vino (okay, mostly ME drank some vino), and I showed her our heinous laundry room, which is so fucking small, SB is always banging her elbow, putting the damn wash in the dryer.
I wonder if Extreme Home Makeover would consider knocking our entire house down and building SB a new home with an EXTREMELY LARGE LAUNDRY ROOM AND ALL NEW SEARS APPLIANCES, INCLUDING A FRONT-LOADING WASHER AND DRYER WITH STEAM FOR WRINKLE REMOVAL because of my persistent misery and elbow handicap. SB is suffering! Help Ty! The soldiers from Iraq missing limbs will just have to wait.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment