The Good Things

1. We had a good time at the park, finally.  It seems like I haven’t been to the park in weeks, probably because I have not.

2.  I thought I had a meeting this afternoon, but I did not.  Instead, I got to lounge around and talk about cool shit.

3.  I went to the bank to make a deposit and they were out of envelopes.  As I was digging around in my car for an extra one (which I had!), I found my North Mississippi All-Stars CD.

4. The Butcher did not barf all over my couch even though he was so dang hung over that he had to answer my questions by raising his foot.

How To Keep Me From Beating You With Your Own Dog

Keep it leashed at the park.  If, for some reason, you cannot always keep it on a leash–hell, I don’t jog, maybe having a dog tied to you fucks up your running chi–put it on the god damn leash when you see Mrs. Wigglebottom and I coming.  Because, let me tell you, next time it looks like your dog is going to bite my dog, I’m going to just let go of my dog’s leash and let her take care of it.

Love,

Aunt B.

p.s.  Dear Butcher, if you ever come home in the middle of the night again for the express purpose of apparently using all the gas in my car, I will beat you with my car.  Maybe not with the whole thing, but the parts that are currently held on by duct tape due to you.

 

Whew.  Okay, I feel better.