Twisty Dog!
“Do NOT Sit Next to Dennis!”
And, if the above does not make sense, then please to be watching the following clip, courtesy of YouTube. Be warned, though, that it is chock-a-block with gratuitous gratuitousness.
As I was taking Miss Brown out for her evening walk last night, one of the Stompy Girls and her boyfriend were coming in.
BF of SG: Hey, that’s a Boxer!
Me: (Pure jeenyous!) Yes, it is.
BF of SG: Hey, it be a girl or a boy?
Me: (Egad!) Girl.
BF of SG: Hey, is she been spaded?
Me: (Is. She. Been.) Yes. Yes, she has.
BF of SG: Oh. Well, that’s too bad.
Me: (Thank goodness!) Sorry!
BF of SG: Hey, you sure?
Me: (Boggle) Yes, I’m sure. Besides, she’s old and lumpy. (Not to mention the fact that her temperament is Teh Suck.)
BF of SG: Naw, she ain’t too old!
Me: (Yuh-huh!) Um, well, it was nice talking to you.
The funny part was that, even though this guy was clearly interested in setting up my dog for a sexxxy hot date, he was too frightened of her to actually come anywhere near her. When he and SG saw us coming out of the building, they both stepped off the sidewalk. Way, way, way off the sidewalk.
I’ve been reading a book on Richard Proenneke, on the advice of someone in one of the dog groups. To say that it’s not great literature is an understatement, but it’s a lovely story. It’s based on Proenneke’s journals and is told in diary format, which I obviously find compelling, despite the bad writing. I’m about half-way through it, and it occurred to me that I could just about be a hermit. It’s not that there aren’t people I like, and that I wouldn’t miss having a support system, but I think I would be pretty content with my own company.
And then, yesterday, a friend and I were talking about being irritated by people (she’s a departmental secretary, which is a thankless job). The cube farm was making me a little angsty, so I told her I’m ready to move to a deserted island. Oh, but seriously. She reckoned that I’d get bored, but I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been bored a day in my life.
She complains a lot about being bored, though, and I have to admit to not being terribly sympathetic. I just don’t understand the concept. I’ve suggested that, if she doesn’t like being bored, then maybe she should cultivate a hobby or twelve. She’s considered and rejected every hobby I can think of, though. Maybe she secretly enjoys being bored? In any event, it can’t be that tortuous, since she prefers it to doing just about anything.
I finally got my planner problem sorted out last night. There may be pictures forthcoming, not that it’s anything earth shattering. What I did was tear down some light-weight watercolor paper. I punched holes in it, et voila, blank planner inserts. They are ready for list-making, calendar creation, and doodling.
We’re having a division meeting this afternoon, so I’ll have a chance to take it for a test ride.
red paper boat 