Sunday, November 20, 2005

Vile Dog

Rather than spend another night looking after Old Tampax, I called its owner and said that she had gotten into my NEIGHBOR'S trashcan, and "God only knows what she got into." I figure it was best that he not associate his dog's ass with my almost ass with me sitting only a few feet from his desk. It's just not necessary. So Andrew is going to have to follow her around and APPLY himself to the task of cleaning up her cottony poops (Holly, that's as close as I could get to "applicator.").

Fucking dog.

I've just returned to the sanctity of Rutledge Place (where my neighbors handed me a pint glass of mimosa and some fried oysters with grits and garlic scrambled eggs. Goddammit, I love my house) after a night tending the Bean in her feverish, tantruming state. And USC lost to Clemson, so all is doom and woe and a great wailing over all the land. And of course, A.S had to call last night to rub it in.

[RING RING]

Jemima: Hello?

AS: Hi, how are you?

Jemima: Okay... [waiting for the taunting]

AS: Did you see the game? The CLEMSON vs. Carolina game which USC did not win and Clemson did win and you lost?

Jemima: Hello? Hello? You're breaking up! Are you there?

AS: What? What!

Jemima: [CLICK!]

[RING! RING!]

Jemima: Hello?

AS: Did you just hang up on me? [incredulously]

Jemima: What are you talking about?

AS: Well, I was just saying that USC...

Jemima: Wait! I can't hear you!

AS: YOU DID! YOU DID HANG UP! YOU STINKING, VILE SORE LOSER!

Jemima: Stinking sore loser, hell! You the bitch that got hung up on!

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