Since you asked:
Although our older sweet but worried Labrador Kasey is the picture of concentration, especially when it comes to food (I still maintain Kasey will live to be 30 out of the fear that, if she died, she’d miss a meal) our younger hound-doggy Labrador, Wrigley has a somewhat shorter attention span.
How short is Wrigley’s attention span? Wrigley doesn’t just have Attention Deficit Disorder, Wrigley has Attention Absence Disorder. No lie, from the time Wrigley gets a thought in his big dumb cute sweet head, like to go chase a ball, or lick himself, until the time he gets distracted by something else cannot be timed without a watch that measures one hundredths of a spit second.
It isn’t that Wrigley isn’t house trained, because he kind of is. But when he gets excited – like he did when he discovered we had a tree in the house at Christmas time – he gets so wrapped up and swept away in his Attention Absence Disorder, that he forgets that he isn’t outside. When he suddenly realizes he is peeing inside the house, he gets the most amazing “What? What am I doing wrong?” look on his face. But then, he has that look on his face a lot.
Come to think of it, about the only time Wrigley doesn’t have a “What? What am I doing wrong?” look on his face is when he is getting his butt scratched or his tummy rubbed. Then he has a look of pure Zen-like bliss minus the deep existential tranquility.
Mel tells.
How you fall on the Mel thing says as much about you as it does about Mel. Those who say forget the whole thing, he was merely drunk are going to do that regardless and those who want to hate him for what he said are going to do that. Nothing will change their mind.
As for the Mel haters, there is the subject of In Vino Veritas. There is truth in wine. Really? Maybe. But Tequila is one lying son of a bitch. The range and extent of lies told while under the grips of Tequila are too many to list. A short list include:
My crazy friend told me about this place. I never come here.
Do you know anything about Track and Field? No? Well I won the Olympic Decathlon. Twice.
Look at her. She actually thinks guys are attracted to girls with fake boobs. Just look at her.
No, that is really interesting. Tell me more about your major in French Poetry.
You want to get married and have kids? What a coincidence.
Me? Oh, I’ve only been with a few women. Why? What do you think is a lot? Really? I’m just under that.
No, I can drive.
This is a loaner, my car is in the shop. Those Ferrari’s are nice put high maintenance.
Oh this is just the place I rent when I am in town on business. My real house is in Malibu.
Of course I’ve never played Strip Darts before. I just thought of it.
Of course I love you. Why else would I want to make love to you, silly?
Wow, this has never happened before.
So, so sorry. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.
No, I promise I will call you.
Although our older sweet but worried Labrador Kasey is the picture of concentration, especially when it comes to food (I still maintain Kasey will live to be 30 out of the fear that, if she died, she’d miss a meal) our younger hound-doggy Labrador, Wrigley has a somewhat shorter attention span.
How short is Wrigley’s attention span? Wrigley doesn’t just have Attention Deficit Disorder, Wrigley has Attention Absence Disorder. No lie, from the time Wrigley gets a thought in his big dumb cute sweet head, like to go chase a ball, or lick himself, until the time he gets distracted by something else cannot be timed without a watch that measures one hundredths of a spit second.
It isn’t that Wrigley isn’t house trained, because he kind of is. But when he gets excited – like he did when he discovered we had a tree in the house at Christmas time – he gets so wrapped up and swept away in his Attention Absence Disorder, that he forgets that he isn’t outside. When he suddenly realizes he is peeing inside the house, he gets the most amazing “What? What am I doing wrong?” look on his face. But then, he has that look on his face a lot.
Come to think of it, about the only time Wrigley doesn’t have a “What? What am I doing wrong?” look on his face is when he is getting his butt scratched or his tummy rubbed. Then he has a look of pure Zen-like bliss minus the deep existential tranquility.
Mel tells.
How you fall on the Mel thing says as much about you as it does about Mel. Those who say forget the whole thing, he was merely drunk are going to do that regardless and those who want to hate him for what he said are going to do that. Nothing will change their mind.
As for the Mel haters, there is the subject of In Vino Veritas. There is truth in wine. Really? Maybe. But Tequila is one lying son of a bitch. The range and extent of lies told while under the grips of Tequila are too many to list. A short list include:
My crazy friend told me about this place. I never come here.
Do you know anything about Track and Field? No? Well I won the Olympic Decathlon. Twice.
Look at her. She actually thinks guys are attracted to girls with fake boobs. Just look at her.
No, that is really interesting. Tell me more about your major in French Poetry.
You want to get married and have kids? What a coincidence.
Me? Oh, I’ve only been with a few women. Why? What do you think is a lot? Really? I’m just under that.
No, I can drive.
This is a loaner, my car is in the shop. Those Ferrari’s are nice put high maintenance.
Oh this is just the place I rent when I am in town on business. My real house is in Malibu.
Of course I’ve never played Strip Darts before. I just thought of it.
Of course I love you. Why else would I want to make love to you, silly?
Wow, this has never happened before.
So, so sorry. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.
No, I promise I will call you.
posted by Alex at
2:17 PM
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