How did you meet Diane? And how did you propose? :)
We met at a time when it seemed like I was capable of better things. Fifteen years later her dad vanished and so at Denny’s, I hid the ring in her French Toast Slam while she was in the restroom. If her dad returns as a ghost, I hope he doesn’t remember what happened and I hope he’s funny like Bill Cosby.
You don’t have to be a parent to understand the horror of walking into a room to discover that the baby crawled out of his crib and onto that pottery wheel you forgot to turn off. And while the baby is spinning around and around, the dog is sitting there all calm, like a person, gently using his paws to fashion the baby’s soft cartilage head into something a little more modern. It might be the classic tale of bad parenting, but let’s see where the dog is going with this. What is this about?
This is one of those cautionary tales that I wrote when I realized that some people are probably conflicted about who they need to love and support more: dogs or babies. I personally have neither so I think it helps me to remain a neutral party and to share an honest, analytical perspective.
I really do hope that helps and if it doesn’t, let’s not worry about it. I have a friend in town tomorrow and I need to focus on constructing a sound, manageable itinerary.
Instead of lethal injection, why not shackle him to the bar at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. in Studio City and make him live tweet the TV that plays Forrest Gump on a loop until he dies if mercury poisoning?
You have a great literary mind; however, I question the necessity of you projecting your sickness into the blogosphere like this, especially given the already basically toxic nature of the internet. I recommend if this is a cry for help that you go get the help you know you need; and if it isn't, that you desist for the common good