I haven't posted anything all month. Forgive me. I blame end-of-the-year shindigs and extra hours with Ivy. There has been a lack of sleep. There has been much watching of downloaded television, as well as the kind that you pay for. IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE. MARIAN. I'M LOOKING IN YOUR DIRECTION.
Happy has some sort of ailment. Again. This time it's a "bump" above her eye that may need to be removed. The trouble is (besides the fact that we don't know what the trouble is) that she keeps scratching it. If they do cut it out, she'll have to go under and have stitches. Maybe afterwards she'll have a cool scar and become the hardcore canine sidekick I've always wanted. But seriously, I'm worried. Why is my dog perpetually sick? It seems like we're always at the vet's. I've skimmed through the same issue of "Modern Dog" a dozen times now. It's the one with Pamela Anderson on the cover, clutching a tea-cup chihuahua. You understand my pain.
I'm fading. It's very late. My brain is a practical joke.
This is interesting. I think I look more like the offspring of Steve Merchant + himself, yeah? But I'll take the Beth Orton addition as a compliment.
(And Kim, I'm only 23. Ask my dad, Thomas Gibson, if you don't believe me).
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4 comments:
Poor Happy. At least you know she is in capable (if not tremendously bossy and judgemental) hands.
Juniper sends her fuzzy regards and requests an outing.
Oh man. Just... oh man.
Is it porn? Or does it involve...flying killing weapons and ...buxomness?
Really? twenty three?! It must be the crows feet....
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