Monday, May 28, 2007
Dog Day Afternoon
Today is dog-washing day. I don't want to do it. Dog doesn't want me to do it. It has to be done, though. Dog's smelling pretty -- doggie.
There's a method to this operation which must be carefully adhered to. First, I must assemble all my implements of torture -- slowly, one piece at a time, so the dog doesn't get wise to what's up. She's smart; if she sees me coming with this stuff, she'll run.
I know, I hear what you're saying -- "So, catch her!"
I can catch her, assuming I can head her off before she reaches the safety of her hidey-hole; i.e., under the sofa in the den. Any time she wants to be alone or doesn't want to be grabbed up and groomed, she shimmies her little butt up under there and the only way to get her out before she's ready is to move the couch. It's best to catch her before it comes to that.
I'll quietly assemble in the kitchen the scissors (because there are hairballs to remove), Q-tips (for the ears), towels, a washcloth, doggie shampoo, her brush, and the doggie bathtub. I won't clue her in on what's up until everything is ready -- and I have someone to help hold her down. It's amazing how easily a 22-pound dog can knock me over if she's pissed enough. I'll trim off the hairballs that long-haired, active dogs are so prone to, brush her smooth, and plop her in the tub. She'll act petrified, and cover me in frantic kisses hoping to make me see the error of my ways and rescue her from the death waters. I will, of course, kiss her back, because it reassures both of us. She will buck and kick like a wild wombat enraged at being captured. She will snort, moan, groan, spit, and wiggle, beseeching me with mournful eyes for mercy, desperate to make me comprehend that I am endangering her life and injuring her dignity. I will pretend to be blind to her drama, though, as I lather her up and scrub her down, then towel dry her (because she truly is mortified of the blow dryer) 'til she's fluffy and no longer spraying water everywhere as she shakes spasmodically.
Once this ordeal is over, she's going to be fit to be tied and will immediately head for the safety of her hidey-hole. She'll stay under there and sulk until I coax her out with something especially good to eat. At least, she'll smell good. Once I throw a burger on the grill for her tonight, all will be forgiven.
I wish somebody would give me a nice, relaxing bath. I'm sore and bruised six ways from Sunday from doing too much stuff involving bending, lifting, squatting, and pushing yesterday. Dog's got it made in the shade and doesn't even know it.
Contratulations - Saluting a contraption.
suppose to work - Pondering and guessing about whether to work or not to work.
pinking sheers - I'm sure this must have something to do with lingerie.
bare with me - In other words, "Let's get naked."
Boudreaux married an attractive woman, Lola, half his age. After several months, Lola complained that she had never climaxed during sex; and according to her Grandma, all Cajun women are entitled to a climax once in a while.
So, to resolve the problem, they went to see the large-animal Vet since there was no trustworthy doctor anywhere in Carencro. The Vet didn't have a clue, but he did recall how, during the hot summer, his Mother and Dad would fan a cow that was having any difficulty birthing a calf to cool her down and make her struggles easier.
So, the Vet told them to hire a strong, virile, young man to wave a towel over them while they were having sex. This, the Vet said, would cause the young wife to climax. So the couple hired a young man from the big city of Baton Rouge to wave a towel over them as the Vet suggested. After many efforts, still no climax. They went back to the Vet. The Vet said for Lola to change partners and let the young man have sex with her while Boudreaux waved the towel.
They tried it that night and Lola went into wild, screaming, ear-splitting climaxes, one after the other. When it was over, Boudreaux smugly looked down at the young man and said, "Ya see, city slicker, now THAT's how ya wave da towel!"
Today's quiz is courtesy of Hale McKay.
In the middle of the table is a round food tray with five kinds of fruit on it. They are:
Which fruit would you choose? Please think very carefully and don't rush into it. Your choice reveals a lot about you.
For Test Results, Please SCROLL DOWN.
If you have chosen:
A. Apple: You are a person who prefers apples!
B. Banana: You are a person who prefers bananas!
C. Strawberry: You are a person who prefers strawberries!
D. Peach: You are a person who prefers peaches!
E. Orange: You are a person who prefers oranges!