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You know, I've never been very fond of those bug-eyed yippee dogs but after blasting them in the face with high pressure air and water hoses for the past two days I'm starting to have some strange sort of heart twinge for the mutated mongrels. I know what's coming when they lick my face as I lift them out of their crate incarceration. Freedom! They look at me with such gratitude radiating from those sadistically delicate designer eyes and I give them an extra belly rub before slipping the nylon noose over their precariously snub nosed faces.



Honestly, are we so insecure about our own mortality that we have to force adapt our unwitting companion species into an even more fragile state of existence? Every blink is a gamble and every breath is a carefully choreographed ordeal. Did the ancestors of these beasts commit some sort of heinous atrocity I don't know about? Is tripping on one's absurdly lengthy ears and nearly snapping twig-thin bones with the subsequent collision of preternaturally over-sized skull and minuscule forearm some sort of penance? It seems the only explanation for the plethora of breeds we've concocted to look startlingly similar to the mucus globs that dribble from their fashionably under developed sinuses.



Edit: Juuust so you know, I'm not blasting puppies with air guns for cheap thrills. I'm a weekend dog washer (snazzy part time, I know), it's just more poignant this way. No dogs are harmed just extremely unhappy.

It's impressive how quickly my definition of aloof can swing from low maintenance to asshole depending on the subject and medium. Texting while giving a damn, don't do it.

I just got a part time job washing dogs with my best friend on the weekends. We get to listen to music, goof off and play with dogs the whole time in the back room and at the end of the day get paid in cash under the table. ...Seriously?



Universe, I didn't quite catch how I got back on your good side but if I promise to be good do you think you could make it rain Hershey Kisses and lightning strike 18 languages directly into my skull? Or maybe just float Louis Armstrong melodies on the passing wind currents? I'm not picky...

COMMENTS

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Anachronism
03:05 Jul 21 2010

Under the table- I hope you just have to wash these dogs. :P



Glad the universe is smiling on you.. **sits in anticipation for the downpour of Hershey Kisses**

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GalFriday
03:17 Jul 21 2010

Oh my! I'll keep my fingers crossed that there wasn't a second (or god forbid a third!) meaning to him asking me to help him out with his heavy weekend work load...

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My poi are on their way and I have 3 massive art projects underway and yet I can't help to feel a bit stifled. I've tried leaving this place and I nearly suffocated. But perhaps I simply didn't dip far south enough. Once that sadistic prick Summer Sun has loosened it's grip on NOLA I'll be heading down for a while. Two good friends have offered me a job, a place to stay and and help getting down there. How can I refuse? I love these people and they've basically set up a new life for me in a city they can't stop raving about. Once I'm there they'll be able to help fine tune my spinning too since they're already working fire performers.



Maybe it's just this house though. There's a sword on the wall, a dog on the floor and rusted memories clinging to every porous surface in the place. I've been hiding here for 3 days and I'm starting to have more meaningful looks with the dog than my temporary roommate. It's a cycle. These walls imbue a crazy, passionate ambition inside of me but all too soon the glamor wears off and I'm left alone in a crowded room.



I'm planning a mass overhaul of the coven, it's gotten a bit too weighted down and stuffy, it's stifling (there's that word again) to the creativity it's supposed to engender. I don't think I'll be able to implement all or even most of my ideas however for the sheer lack of adequate help. I can't do everything by myself, I'm great at creating bones but without flesh all that's a dead duck. Now this is when I wish for super-site admin powers where I could snatch all the brilliant, creative, ambitious, witty, intriguing members I've had my eye on. Without a captive audience there is no incentive to put on a good show. So I'm afraid this act too will fizzle.