And if you’d simply get dinner out on time, I wouldn’t have to sit on your $50 bio of Dickens book to get your attention. Now let’s hurry with the food before I get the urge to drag my butt across it.
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I’d rather die in my bed than falling off a mountain while climbing, being hit by a car while biking or having a parachute fail while sky diving. All of which, I think, is proof positive that god really doesn’t want us to exercise.
So I overdosed on watching ice skating this past weekend. The American championships were being held in all categories of skating… ice dancing, pairs, men and women’s singles… I was in seventh heaven. Then they introduced the next young man to skate in the men’s competition and mentioned how he was the old man in the group since he was 29. I found myself cheering him on due to some connection I felt we had what with him being the old man skater and me – well, me being old. That lasted until I thought about it for a moment
I don’t care where you’re going. I don’t want to go and you can’t make me. Remember, I have “LeadButt”. If mom can’t move me off her chair or out of her spot in bed when I go limp and let my LeadButt do its thing, what makes you think you can drag me anywhere once I let it down.
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Dog 1: Why do we have to bring the balls? He’s the one that wants to go bowling.
Dog 2: I said I’m sorry. I can’t believe I bet that Dennis Rodman wouldn’t go back to North Korea.
Dog 3: I’m telling you, that toilet water just rots the brain cells and causes you to make all kinds of stupid decisions.
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If you’re a dog walking dog and don’t know the trail, it’s always safe to follow the big guys because they must know where they’re going… right?
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Don’t know about your dogs, but my dogs walk other dogs to earn their kibbles. No free loaders in this house!
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It is a universal that any phone that rings in the middle of the night is bringing bad news. Unless, of course, you’re an Alaskan. Then it’s probably some relative who still hasn’t figure out the time difference and which way it goes.
The ickiest thing ever is any picture of any person with a beard composed of live bees. I want to hurl every time I see one.
Snowy perches on the arm of the couch as I sit watching reruns of BBT. He is alert and poised, ears up listening to the distant barking of a neighbor’s dog. Clearly he is guarding his food source with great courage and bravado. Nothing will stir him from his post… except if you rub his belly while he sits there. Then his head starts to bob down, his eyes glaze over and before you can stop it from happening, he falls off the arm of the couch onto the floor. He quickly picks himself up, shakes himself off and resumes