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2000-11-14

Dog

Okay, so I update twice a day. Shit happens. Speaking of shit, there's a DOG in my office. Yeah, you heard me. A dog. The boss is out, and my co-workers are philanthropists, who knew. A stray dog, running around the parking lot, they just HAD to bring it in and keep it here so it wouldn't get run over.

Now, the dog is cute. It's friendly, and apparently domesticated, the thing can sit and shake, and I'm sure if I paid attention, it would roll over. But the boss is out, I have shit to do, and it's hard to concentrate with this black and white blur running by (literally, I mean, this is one energetic dog) every few seconds. It's just lapping the office. Back and forth, back and forth.

And everytime I reach to make a call (the core of what I do), a co-worker whistles and shouts, "Diego!" Yeah, they decided to call it Diego. Maybe that's my beef. Cute dog, bad name. And because of the name, I want it out. Maybe I'll just slap a co-worker and relieve some tension. I know just which one I'll slap, too.

Oh, it's sitting next to me now. Tall dog. Okay, I take it back, the thing is actually smiling at me. It would have to have that personality, wouldn't it. I'd pet it, but I'm off to a convention for a few hours, and the last thing I need to smell like as I meet local executives is dog.

Someone just had the audacity to ask me to take it for a walk. Now, I know it's sitting next to me, and I don't look to busy as I sit here, typing and looking at the dog, but WHA?? A walk? I got cats to avoid having to be responsible for an animal's bladder. Uh uh. No way.

Gotta go, I think Diego's on to me. And it's drooling on my purse.

-Barbarella

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2007-05-19
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Dog 2000-11-14 14:20:09 Okay, so I update twice a day. Shit happens. Speaking of shit, there's a DOG in my office. Yeah, you heard me. A dog. The boss is out, and my co-workers are philanthropists, who knew. A stray dog, running around the parking lot, they just HAD to bring it in and keep it here so it wouldn't get run over.

Now, the dog is cute. It's friendly, and apparently domesticated, the thing can sit and shake, and I'm sure if I paid attention, it would roll over. But the boss is out, I have shit to do, and it's hard to concentrate with this black and white blur running by (literally, I mean, this is one energetic dog) every few seconds. It's just lapping the office. Back and forth, back and forth.

And everytime I reach to make a call (the core of what I do), a co-worker whistles and shouts, "Diego!" Yeah, they decided to call it Diego. Maybe that's my beef. Cute dog, bad name. And because of the name, I want it out. Maybe I'll just slap a co-worker and relieve some tension. I know just which one I'll slap, too.

Oh, it's sitting next to me now. Tall dog. Okay, I take it back, the thing is actually smiling at me. It would have to have that personality, wouldn't it. I'd pet it, but I'm off to a convention for a few hours, and the last thing I need to smell like as I meet local executives is dog.

Someone just had the audacity to ask me to take it for a walk. Now, I know it's sitting next to me, and I don't look to busy as I sit here, typing and looking at the dog, but WHA?? A walk? I got cats to avoid having to be responsible for an animal's bladder. Uh uh. No way.

Gotta go, I think Diego's on to me. And it's drooling on my purse.