Next, the very short blog.
Item # 1
My magnificent girlfriend and I got a new puppy. His name is Jables, as derived from the great Jack Black, and he is flat out kick ass. He is pretty much housebroken (and never really caused us much work in that regard), but he does bite the living shit out of anything we refuse to give him. Not any of his 4,000 toys, but everything else-- cell phones, the hem of my shorts, a spoonful of crank Jamie left out-- is fair game. And, in honor of my brother getting a new job, here are three ways my dog Jables reminds me of my big brother Jay.
- He may be retarded. Jables is an interesting dog to take on a walk. This is why I often bring a couple of beers with me when I do so. When he gets something in his mouth that he knows he shouldn't have, he hauls ass as quickly ass possible away from me, then snaps back when he reaches the end of the leash. Sometimes he suddenly decides that my leg is the enemy and attempts a leaping tackle. The end result, invariably, is that he smashes into my leg, sits down on the ground, and looks up at me, confused out of his mind. Then he bites my foot. Also, if he's really hyper, he lassos himself and falls over. I infrequently walked my brother Jay when I was a child, so I can't speak to how often he lassoed himself (I do know he went through a lot of helmets). However, Jay did like the Transformers movie, so how smart can he be?
- If you give him a paper towel, he'll entertain himself for forty minutes. Jables likes to shred it, then chase the little pieces around and poke them with his paw. As for Jay... Some of my favorite childhood memories are of the evenings I sat on my parent's back porch, a cool glass of lemonade in hand, and watched Jay run around giggling and batting a paper towel back and forth in the friscalating dusklight. Bonus points to anyone who immediately knows why "friscalating dusklight" is funny.
- He likes to stare me in the eyes when he poops. Don't ask me how I know this. Just know that it is far, far less disturbing when my dog does it.
Item # 2
I got a new car! My dad and I went and picked up an absolutely amazing '05 Honda Accord yesterday. While it was sad saying goodbye to my old car, the Flying DUI, after seven exhilarating years, it was nice upgrading to what my dad called Blue Heaven. My dad's thoughts on my old car? "What a horrible piece of shit this is. I can't believe you can live with this thing." Also, it was nice to get on the highway and get up to 65 mph in under three minutes. So thanks Dad. It fucking rules.
Item # 3
Jamie and I were at Hy-Vee the other day when an old man collapsed right by us. We picked him up, obviously, an act that was gross on several accounts, but mainly because I'd describe the old man as a sweaty Skeletor, if Skeletor had a very thin moustache. The old man refused medical attention, but needed me to get a cart for him before he could walk on his own power. He probably died on the highway on the way home, taking several people with him. That's how I'd like to go out. But here is my plea to old people: Don't die at Hy-Vee. Don't even almost die at Hy-Vee. It freaks the rest of us out.
2 comments:
While I do enjoy lassoing myself during long walks and playing with paper towels in the friscillating dusklight, I enjoy my poops in private thank you very much.
Today I had a safety meeting during which the previous month's company-wide safety reportings were discussed. One particular incident involved an employee swerving to avoid a dog on the side of the road. He had decided in that instant to spare the dog in favor of going head on into oncoming traffic. The lesson: take out the dog. Hope you enjoy your new shitting machine! By the way, your second point about entertaining oneself with paper towels, I thought was going to go in a much different, gross and embarrassing direction. Thank you, Brett.
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