There is pretty much no greater feeling in the world than going for a fine $350 trip to the vetrinarian, because I am sure you know, me, as a human, gain so much both in actual material goods (ear ointment, dog heartworm medication, rabies tags) and just a general overall feeling of warmth. I mean, the people at the vet office do kindly refer to Wrigley as "my friend" as well as sending postcards about shots for which "my friend" is due. It is indeed very bizarre to hear someone say "Can you just bring a recent fecal sample of your friend?" "Just lift your friend up on to the table and hold her so that she cannot move." "How is your friend doing altogether?" Wrigley is my damn dog. I would not consider her a "friend" and it is weird to even think about. I mean, we aren't enemies or anything like that either, but she is just a dog. As a general rule I do not take my actual friends to places where I might need to bring some of their poop or where I can purchase them fine ointments for their ears.
I now realize this is the second time in the last few weeks that I have mentioned the main lady in my life, Wrigley, and many of you are now thinking weird thoughts about me and my dedication to my domestic creature. "Are you one of those dog weirdos?" "Do you hang out with actual humans, and maybe even actual females?" "When did you get dragged so far into this mess?" "Who is the only major league pitcher to strike out the same number in batters in a game as his age?" "Can you really use whipped cream for THAT?"
1) I am not a dog weirdo. She is just around a lot. And there are from time to time silly stories that involve her too. And all the drinking stories might make everyone worry, and plus they are for the movie/book/screenplay/musical/book of poems/performance art thingy.
2) I do spend the majority of my time with actual humans and even females too. Of course the means by which I get these people to hang out with me, with such white lies as telling them I live in a house made of gold, am having Kanye West over, or that I need help because I am a quadrapelagic (that girl was really stupid) might be less than typical.
3) Yeah, I don't know either. This cutthroat world of blogging, with the gory underside that no one dares mention, is much more than I bargained for. And I never should have gotten drunk and posted all those comments on the blog written by the Yakuza boss (Yakuza is like the Japanese mafia, duh).
4)Kerry Wood, with 20 at the age of 20. Of course, now his arm doesn't function and may, in fact, randomly falloff when he is doing in arm intensive activity, like using chopsticks.
5) Yeah I was surprised too, but try it, just trust me on this one.
In one of the more stirring developments in life, the summer continues to be awesome and somehow every week I am able to look back and think to myself "Wow, this past week was awesome." But really it is isn't that surprising to think that when you consider the fact that I definitely rank as at least one of the top 1,000 Awesome People in the World. Not too modest, I know, but who are we kidding? I implore my friends to name instances (ones when I was not in a bad mood or suffering from tuberculosis) when I was not at least a semi-decent time to be around.....exactly. You can only think of like 700 times when I was not fun, but I was preoccupied those times with visions of time travel in the Weinermobile. Which is my bad.
TASTY. I'll write again sooner. Promise.
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