Sunday afternoon at the dog park

Lula sends her regards.

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Poodle ways of knowing

Some dogs perk up when they hear your keys jingle. Time to go for a ride!

Other dogs get excited when they hear the can opener. Oh boy, snacks!

But my dog gets excited when I put on pants. We must be going for a walk!

I have officially worked from home too long and am not fit to live among decent people.

How much is that doggie in the window?

That much, huh? Wow. That’s a little rich for my blood. Does that include the window and a few bars of gold boullion?

No, I’m not mocking your fine inbred canine. I’m sure he’s — 

Purebred. Of course.

No! P-please! Please don’t call in…the McLachlan!

phew. I’m sure we can come to a mutually agreeable doggie option.

hmm. Whattodo, whattodo…

Well, how much is that doggie under the couch?

Half off, you say? We’ll take it!

Lula, chillin under the couch. Partly.

Friday Fine Art post

2012-08-08_lula_french_girls

Looks like it’s time to sharpen those pencils!

 

I hope that’s not a weird euphemism for something gross. I’m off to check urban dictionary while you admire the poodle.

30 bewildering minutes later…

Well.

I’d like to start by apologizing to you, the poodle, my friends and family, all former and potential employers, my alma maters, and anyone else whom I’ve offended here today.

Not only is that a weird euphemism for a number of debased and logistically-implausible misdemeanors, but according to urban dictionary, so is every. single. thing I’ve ever thought or said. There are no safe words.

Safe words?

Stop it! Ew. I feel like a need a shower.

A shower?

Aarrgh! Just end this before even my good name gets destroyed by this meat grinder of immorality.

Oh, yeah?

Lord have mercy upon us.

Today we went looking for sheets and bought a rug instead

It’s not wool, but it looks and feels like it.

It looks gray in these pictures, but in person, it’s much greener, multiple lovely shades of green.

It’s the right size, finally. I’ve been praying to the thrift gods for a clean 8×10 for years. YEARS.

No pee spots.

No cigarette burns.

No chalk outlines.

No pulls or stains or holes.

Rug
Rug2
Rug3

We did end up finding sheets about 5 hours after we set out. Why is it so fucking hard to find (cotton) king-sized sheets for less than $30? Or $60?

I was deeply disturbed by the sheer volume of “microfiber” sheets we had to paw through. 100% polyester. A lady does not sleep on polyester sheets. (Before you cry foul, I do admint to having one set of aubergene-colored satin ones, but! They’re not for sleeping. Ahem. Point stands.)

We might not be able to afford real linen, and bamboo is generally out of reach, too. I’ve mostly made my peace with the unpleasant economic realities of my champagne tastes/beer budget.

But cotton? The fabric of our lives? I see it growing on both sides of the interstate every time I go to Cordele. It’s not exotic. When did it get so expensive? It’s like when they started calling prunes “dried plums” and doubled the price.

My final verdict was that they should call these microfiber abominations “notton.”