Ha Ha! Boy’s wearing underpants … GIRL underpants!!
Mr. Balls thinks he should lift his leg in my house, specifically, on my furniture. We’ve had several discussions about this activity, and it all ends in the same way … he lifts his leg, I put him in his crate and tell him I hate him – I let him out and he does it again.
Yeah, well, pee on this pal.
So my camera is still MIA. I called Canon today to ask them when it might be ready, and they said they’d email me when they had diagnosed the problem. I wondered aloud how they would do that without my email address, which caused some confusion with the Canon fellow. Einsteins, all of them, I tell ya.
They assure me that some time this week they will let me know how long it will be before I can have it back. I’m all, like, itchy and stuff without it. I really hate this point and shoot.
Back to Big Headed Boy.
Someone is too smart for his own good. That someone can break out of his crate anytime the mood strikes him. Last night, it struck him at 2AM and then again at 3:30AM. Boy would like me, at these times, to play with his New Favourite Toy:
At 2AM, when he thrust this disgusting thing in my sleeping face – and it has a really obnoxious squeak, BTW – I told him “When pigs fly, pal.” But this is what appears to have prompted the 3:30AM wake-up call … it seems he pondered my statement for a while and realized that this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted the damn pig to fly. He’s a fetch machine, this dog. He would like nothing more than for me to throw the obnoxious squeaking pig for him over and over and over again.
So to satisfy the natives, who were restless, we took a trip to the beach. You know we do this, because I have documented it dozens of times! But today, I made you a video.
BUT FIRST ….
Can you identify this?
Gross. It was The subject at the dog beach today. Apparently, it is some kind of jellyfish. Apparently it stung someone. Apparently, it’s responsible for third world famine and the crazy people in Brittany Spears’ head!
Whatever. It was icky. That slice in it? That was me, trying to turn it over with the Chuck-It. My bad.
Now I’m stalling for time while the video uploads … lah di dah … doodoodoo … oh! I know what to tell you.
From this day forward, there will be no more photos of Round Eye. Round Eye has moved on to bigger and better things than this paltry 450 square foot apartment. Specifically, Round Eye has moved in with Auntie Cheryl.
Auntie Cheryl’s birthday is coming up soon, and when her partner asked her what she wanted she said “Food Lady’s kitten Round Eye.” Mighty presumptuous of her, no? Seems she has taken quite a shiny to my snotty little kitten.
See, I never wanted two kittens. I wanted ONE kitten. I got suckered into taking two. And while two kittenz is fun and all, I really only wanted Angry Donut. Plus, Round Eye has taken several years off my life by leaping over the deck railing and running around the building on the gutter ledge. I am on the 11th floor, and this scares the sweet bejesus out of me. The whole point of moving to this apartment was to provide Red Dog with easy access to a potty box in his old age, and that means leaving the door open. Angry Donut is a good Donut and doesn’t leave the deck floor. Round Eye … not so much. So today she left with Auntie Cheryl to be a farm kitty. I told her to watch her chickens, and Auntie Cheryl just laughed.
Can’t say I didn’t warn her.
Ah, the video. Here it is. A little slice of my life.