let’s talk about housesitting.
an approximation of my charge
this dog. this dog. this dog is a small but mighty foe.
sure, she looks innocent.
and she rolls up on her stomach to get pats.
she looks at you with her big brown eyes encased in a curly black-haired head and you just melt.
but she hates me, is the problem.
yeah. i mean she’ll use me for food and water and tummyrubs.
but she doesn’t like my eating habits.
she doesn’t like the way i walk her.
she just plain doesn’t like me.
maybe i’m attributing too much gumption to this little one,
but then again,
she’s proven she doesn’t like me.
by peeing on the floor.
every time i come home,
there’s a nice little yellow pool of “i hate you. when is my family coming back?” to greet me.
whatever. i clean it up. but the urea subtlety doesn’t go over my head.
i understand dog.
and the picking up poop. can we briefly discuss that?
wow. there’s nothing like the smell of
dogshit in the morning.
here is my technique. i leave it behind so i can come back when it’s somewhat solidified to pick it up. except then i forget where the dog pooped.
so i have to go on a massive scavenger hunt for dog scat in which i end up picking up multiple donations all over the neighborhood.
kind of makes you feel all kinds of important
and then small black enemy goes chasing after a squirrel and i am utterly wound up in leash and plastic bag containing fresh poop.
and it is a travesty.
let’s not talk about the diarrhea this morning and how fun that was to pick up.
whoops guess i spilled the beans on that one.
in conclusion, soft dogfood is like huge cans of unprocessed meat.
i guess i kind of forgot that part.
having not really been directly exposed to raw meat in, oh, about 10 years, well, i did kind of flip my composure when raw beef + bacon + cheese chunks landed on my arm.
the HBO will see me through.
oh and further speaking of poop, well, the poop jokes, they’re really falling flat. the audiences are no longer demanding poop jokes. in fact, they’re pretty much openly rejecting them. i feel so lost. somebody hold me. i guess i’m going to have to joke about the differences between men and women now, or about my cube or something. what is the world coming to? not that NOT doing poop jokes helps either. i went out on a limb yesterday doing a bad impression of a hyperexcited girl and the audience, in response, did their best impression of a brick wall. cold. unyielding. gritty. i shake my fist at all of them! i would fix the problem, but people are the problem. their senses of humor are frayed and used up. i’m going to go snuggle with my ego now.