That’s right — my job STILL sucks! More work! Less pay! Anyhoo, I’m writing this post as a belated birthday gift for my one loyal reader, the greggers. For his real birthday gift, I got him a schmancy new Tivo that has recorded over 120 shows just to try to figure out what he likes to watch. Wouldn’t the world be a fabulous place if people were as happy to see you as dogs are and were as devoted to pleasing you as Tivo is? I, personally, am happy that people don’t dance around and lick me whenever I enter a room, but some people like that sort of thing.
So, work. I mean, it’s nothing like working with Crazy Wheelchair Lady and her Band of Unemployable Idiots. But the client I work for is crazy, plus everyone who works for the client hates each other. And the people I work with are all quite good at their jobs (except for one), it’s just that a few suffer from debilitating malaise. So I apply for new jobs daily. Ones where I actually make more money than I made 5 years ago, instead of less.
In Bad Dog News, Molly weighs 83 pounds. I think she might still put on a couple more pounds if she ever stops being as active as she is. This morning she spent 10 minutes trying to catch the water as it came out of the sprinkler at the park. Step 1: Bite the water right at its source. Step 2: Bite the water about 3 feet away from the source. Step 3: Jump up and try to bite the water at the top of its arc. Step 4: Repeat. At least she gets clean. She does tend to burp a lot after one of those sessions, though. She still steals as much food as she can. Most recently, I bought a large container of cookies from the local grocery store’s bakery to take in to work for our team meeting. She stole them from the kitchen counter and ate all of them. Before that, I had purchased a couple of boxes of the 100-calorie snack packs of highly processes food to keep in my desk at work. In order to remember to take them to work, I left the bag by the front door. I know, it DOES seem pretty stupid, but it was foil-wrapped bags inside cardboard boxes inside a plastic bag. I didn’t think she could smell the food through all of the packaging. But she did. She tore open both boxes, then each packet in each box, and consumed 1200 calories of processed treats.
Friday morning when I got up, I found a small, damp, gray bundle on my bedroom floor. Sparrow.
In social news, as reported elsewhere, we went out for dinner on Saturday night. The greggers and I were running late due to a misunderstanding of the reservation time. He offered to say that we were actually late because he couldn’t decide whether or not to shave a chinstrap. Lately his favorite site has become Hot Chicks with Douchebags, which is completely hilarious. Our dining companions, Juno and America, were unsure of what a chinstrap-type beard was, so the greggers told them of his new obsession. When he said the name of the site, both Juno’s and America’s faces went kind of blank, like they were trying very hard not to reveal their true reactions. One of them asked about the site, and the greggers and I went on to explain that it was hilarious commentary accompanying photos of attractive young women with douchebags — really smarmy, greasy, faux-hawked, fake-tanned guys with stupid facial expressions and wanna-be gangstah poses. Then a light went on over both of their heads, and Juno said, “Oh, GUYS. Like people.” Ha ha. They both thought that the greggers looked at hot chicks using Summer Freshness(tm) or something more medicinal to cleanse their hot pockets. What does all of that say about my friends, my boyfriend, and/or me?
