Saturday, January 21, 2006

My dyslexic dog (and other early morning musings)

We were up until half two in the morning last night (or, this morning!). Not good, as I have a game the next day. I don't know what the Boy was doing, but I was playing with my new mobile phone -- v lovely, as they say. Here's a picture of me pretending to use it, as I am still too technologically unadvanced to make use of it appropriately and effectively. Actually, what I think I'll do it just let it sit in an inappropriate place (say, the bathroom) for an extended amount of time until I deem that I really need the last one and promise to treat the new one right. What, is that cleavage?

The Boy and I are on the fence about having children. OK, it's really just me (I know, I know, this is coming as a revelation to everyone I know, not least my sister to whom I insisted I was still following the party line of no kiddies). It's like my former assistant said, "Once you meet the right man, you just want to." I don't know if I met him just yet, but the Boy'll do (haha). We probably would think more about it if we didn't have the dogs. In many ways, we treat them like children. We are one step away from having pictures of our dogs in our wallets -- just haven't been impressed with their last portrait sittings. I think the worst thing is that we talk to them. Excessively. They even have back stories.

Here's Sarah's story: A little ghetto dog from a tough life, she had puppies at a young age [now, this is actually true]. Somehow she managed to form a band with Samantha called the Twits (Samantha on guitar and backing, Sarah on drums and vocals), with their biggest song "Sarah and the Twits" coming in the charts at no. 99. (When you see them, they can sing it for you.) When she speaks (obviously) she sounds like a mix of the crack addict from Chappelle show, a young Michael Jackson and Autumn.

Samantha has never had any children, nor ever known the love of a dog. She can be very old ladyish. She likes to do things humans do and feels indignant when she has to do "act like a dog." Samantha's had her eye on an old Victoria swimming costume and cap -- as she likes to have a padde in the sea -- as well as an old Victorian nightgown. We think she could be dyslexic (or doglexic) as she confuses her sounds, always using a big dog bark when she's really a scaredy-dog. Her voice inexplicably sounds like the Boy affecting a soft voice and she curses quite often.

Now don't tell him I've told you about this. He's embarrassed and thinks people will think we are nutters.

And here he is wearing his Xmas gift from my sister. Don't know why it's shown in a mirror image, but I can't change it. Don't say that he's never worn it girl!


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