I have nothing terribly interesting to report about anything going on at my end, only that I’ve been working like a dog and I hope to go see August: Osage County with my father tonight. I’ve seen it once already, but it’s a new American Classic kind of play, and there’s lots of psychological tension, and my father loves that kind of thing. He’s been a good boy and finished all his vegetables, so I thought I would reward him.
1. Ruby came with Nelly to work the other day. On the same day, Harley came to work with Mili. It was a day that included much petting and snuggling.
This is Ruby being bored and doing her best impression of a worm. You can almost hear the full-body sigh.
Later on, Ruby sat on Nelly’s lap and while Nelly talked to various account people, Ruby did her best impression of a sentry, or perhaps the nekkid lady on the prow of a ship.
And Harley was not be ignored either. She’s a very sweet Yorkie. Here she is sitting on Mili’s lap while Mili coos over her, but in this pic Mili looks like she’s going to suck Harley’s brain out of her ear. Which is totally feasible, considering I’ve eaten entire burritos bigger than Harley.
I am so lucky not to have Mili’s hair. Her hair is naturally that blond (I call it “Playboy Concubine Blond”, since Hef’s “girlfriends” often sport that color), and if my hair was naturally that blond, I would consider it God’s way of saying, “It’s a blank canvas! Dye your hair green! And blue! And pink! All at the same time! You will resemble a pinata! Avoid blindfolded children carrying sticks! Go vivid or go home!” and then I would have gross Manic Panic hair all the time and my tub would look horrifying. I don’t know if you’ve ever dyed your hair with Manic Panic or any of its competitors, but your hair runs and leaks every time you wash it, and often your grout turns whatever color you have adorned yourself with and you leave rings o’ color everywhere, it’s unavoidable and extremely unnappetizing. What I’m saying is I would not be able to resist the call of the nuclear hair colors.
2. A tidbit from MetroNorth this week:
Hey, 40-something, sweating, paunchy, balding businessman reading Twilight – you look like a pedophile and you’re creeping me out. Maybe you know the movie’s coming out and you want to be current on pop culture. Maybe your daughter recommended it and you want a topic to bond with her on. No matter what your reason, I just see you hiding in bushes somewhere drooling while watching some prepube brushing her hair before bed. It’s awful and it’s not the way I want to start my day, so knock it off.
3. I was at Cricket’s house the other day. I went outside and was blinded by all the red and orange and yellow. It was overpowering on the eyes, like I imagine being in a lavender field in full bloom would be to your sense of smell. I took a picture of one small corner of it before I fell down on the driveway and had a seizure.
