It was a rough morning. Early this morning--late night, actually—1:30 AM and the dogs are lick, lick, licking their paws (and, at times, their parts). Why? Because they are allergic to grass and I took them for a walk yesterday and it involved some walking on grass. Sigh. It sucks to have dogs that are allergic to grass. It’s not like they can pee in a toilet. All you can hear is slurp! Slurp! Slurp! It is kinda gross to hear. So, early in the wee hours, the wife gets REALLY pissed off because she’s not feeling well (getting a cold), is anxious about work (back to work for those teachers after the summer break) and the licking is driving her BONKERS. Why she hears it and I don’t is a mystery of the Lord, but she makes sure I hear it by waking me up to tell me the dogs are licking. We whack them, medicate them, bathe them, beg them, bribe them but to no avail. (Don’t ask why we don’t put them in another room—that’s a whole ‘nother blog entry.) So, the wife storms out of the room and goes to another non-licking-dogs-room. I’m stuck with the slurping dogs. Of course, the minute she leaves, the dogs stop licking and go to sleep.
Once awake as scheduled, I drag the dogs for a walk but being that I am not paying attention and as the wife is not along for the walk (she is in bed, feeling very ill), I fail to notice some leftover poop on Freckles’ butt and of course she drags her butt all over the bedroom carpeting, leaving nice brown skid marks for us to find. As you can imagine, this almost puts the wife right over the edge she is barely teetering on. I grab the shampoo and start scrubbing while the wife gives Freckles a butt-scrubbing. Tasty. I am so tired I’m not sure I can stay awake to watch Rock Star: Supernova tonight. (I’m bitter because “House” is on at the same time as the Supernova diddy. We are not a TiVo home, so I’ll have to choose. We lead such a primitive life.)
I’ve got to get some sleep tonight, as tomorrow--August 16--is Madonna’s birthday. Let’s party! I’ll be sporting one of my best Madonna t-shirts in her honor. She’ll be 48, the rat bastard, older than me, spit out two kiddies and still looking way better than me. No dog-slurping will distract me from enjoying this lady’s birthday. I think I’ll go out and buy a present for me and MJagger for the Boy Toy’s birthday. We deserve it after all the money spent on those concerts.
The search for the next tattoo continues. I have visions of grandeur but haven’t been able to capture it on paper just quite yet and I certainly haven’t saved the money to pay for one. I DID, however, use the Xerox machine at work to copy the back of my left shoulder so I can “see” how much space I have between the two tattoos already back there. It is VERY difficult to Xerox your back on a copy machine with a feeder that is not removable. Thanks to Rudolph for the assistance in this endeavor (she knows why she is called this, so don’t ask any questions--after all, she didn't ask any questions when I asked for her copying assistance). At least I wasn’t copying my butt or anything….
P.S. read about Planet Xena:
http://www.cnn.com/2006/TECH/space/08/16/new.planets.ap/index.html
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