An Interview With Mrs. Wigglebottom

Now that Mrs. Wigglebottom has become something of an outlaw, living dangerously on the edge of society, I thought I’d sit down with her for an exclusive interview.  Folks, not even WKRN–not even the News2ActionDog–is attempting an interview this daring.

Of course, I knew that Mrs. Wigglebottom was perhaps the most ferocious dog in the house, a dog so scary she must be banned from the local dog parks, and I took appropriate precautions to keep her from biting me, for she has, supposedly, jaws so strong and powerful that they cannot be removed without a doctor and some dynamite.  So, I did not wrap myself in bacon.  Neither did I smack her repeatedly across the face with a raw steak and then shove it in my pants.  I did ask her “Can I have some kisses?  Ooo.  Kisses from Mrs. Wigglebottom.  How I love kisses from Mrs. Wigglebottom!” and she obliged by putting her paws of death on my leg and kissing me on the cheek.

I don’t know if real reporters let their subjects kiss them, but it seemed a good way to build rapport.  You’ll also be interested to know that, throughout the whole interview, Mrs. Wigglebottom was naked.  Apparently, she also has loose morals.  I can only hope that city will encourage everyone to force their dangerous dogs to cover up.  And, through much of the interview, she was gnawing on a huge bone–perhaps from a cow or mailman or a whole park full of adorable helpless puppies!

Me:  Mrs. Wigglebottom.  You are no longer allowed to go to the dog park.  How does that make you feel?

Mrs. Wigglebottom: Roup, roup.

Me: No, we’re not going to the park.  You can’t go to the dog park.  Seriously, come away from the door.

Mrs. Wigglebottom:  (Wags her tail and sniffs the tiny cat’s butt.)

Me: Are you dangerous? 

Mrs. Wigglebottom:  (Wags her tail and looks over at me as if to see if I’m going to say “park” again.)

Me: Are you a menace to law-abiding citizens?

Mrs. Wigglebottom: (Walks upstairs.)

Well, at that point, I had to end the interview.  Clearly, her reluctance to talk to the media tells us all we need to know.

I’m Glad We Got to the Park When We Did

Mrs. Wigglebottom is unwelcome at the off-leash dog parks in town.  So, I’m glad we went when we did.

Brittney’s got the skinny on it over at Nashville is Talking

It makes me so mad, I can’t even tell you.  Not that I want to take Mrs. Wigglebottom to the park.  As I said

I wish I felt better about having her around other dogs–I’m just so afraid that if anything goes wrong, she’ll automatically be the guilty party, just by virtue of how she looks that I’m afraid to be there when other people are there–because I think she’d really like it.

But Mrs. Wigglebottom is a good dog.  She’s a doofus, but she’s a good dog.  People in my neighborhood let their dogs wander all over unleashed and no one does jack shit about it, but my dog can’t even go to the fucking park because she looks like a monster?

I’m just glad she can’t read.  Shit like this would hurt her feelings.

Also, the picture Brittney has?  Mrs. Wigglebottom looks so little like that it makes me even angrier.  That dog and my dog look like two entirely different breeds (which they are, I suppose) and my dog has to suffer because folks are afraid of that dog?  What kind “breed” ban is that?

Answer My Questions!

1.  Anna Fibee is asking some hard questions about country star Sara Evans.  I read in the Nashville Scene that she owes her career to Pro-Tools–Evans, not Fibee–which means that she must know she can’t sing.  So, now that I have real live musicians and recording industry folks reading my blog, I must ask “What possesses people who are created in a studio to perform live?  Don’t they know we can hear them?”

2.  Not to make light of child molesters, but why would a guy who works for the Department of Homeland Security and who presumably has a TV and reads the news still approach a girl on the internet?  How can he not know no one on the internet is exactly what they seem?  How is this crap supposed to make us feel more secure?

3.  Also, conservatives?  Are you burnt out on scandals yet?  Secretly, do you ever wonder why the fuck you voted this administration into office?  Do you feel like you got sold a pig in a poke?  I mean, these folks claimed to be good conservative Christians who would hold themselves to a higher moral standard.  Aren’t you a little angry?

How the Butcher Almost Killed Us On My Way To Work

Yes, I was just the girl talking about how awesome chunks of endometrial lining are.  So, why hearing the Butcher sneeze, then say, "Oh, gross" and then looking over and seeing the most humongous snot hanging out of his nose and down onto his arm should cause me to start uncontrollably screaming and shuddering, I don’t know.

But I did, scream and shudder uncontrollably.  Especially when he was like "I don’t have anything to wipe it on."

Blah.  It’s giving me the heebie jeebies right now.

"Put it on this bag!  Put it on this bag!" I insisted, pulling a huge bag from between the seats.  "Argh!  I looked at it.  Oh, my god!  I touched it.  It touched me.  I think it touched me."

"How could it have touched you?  It’s way over on this side of the car.  And my nose points down."

"I don’t know.  I just know it touched me.  I can feel it on me.  Oh, god.  Pull over."

"I’m going to have to, because you’re making me laugh so hard I can’t drive."