Wednesday, September 1, 2010


Oh, damn, I'm so sorry. I know I promised to walk your dog for you, that you were going away for the weekend with that new infatuation you contracted although if you ask me the infatuation is more delusional than anything else, and rather than put your high strung mutt in a kennel I was going to be friendly and neighborly and walk your dog several times a day. Couldn't be easier, you said. She's a low key affectionate sweetheart, you said. She is totally well behaved on the leash, you said. But the problem is that your self knowledge about your dog ranks right up there with your ability to judge potential romantic partners, and that dog threw such a fit when I tried to open the door that I just gave up and went back home, there was a game on and then it just seemed like too much trauma for the dog to interrupt it over the weekend, when it would be sleeping on the couch or whatever, and it just seemed best to wait for you to return.

omigod omigod omigod: there's actually a medical condition for this? I honestly thought I was just really, really flakey about people.

remembering the hot=summer, so hot=not depressed.

Kept Charlie. Using pheromones and psychotropics.