Would you like to know what annoys me?
You’re dramatic. That’s enough. It already means what you think “overdramatic” means. Stop it.
People are also seeming to have trouble with their prepositions. I love the Long Island Medium, I’m sorry but I do, but in every episode, she says, “Before I begin I like to talk on how I read and receive messages…”
About. You like to talk ABOUT how you read and receive messages. Every time she says that I get the shivers. “I like to talk on…” STOP.
I realize “about” is an adverb. LEAVE IT. LEEEEAVE IT. Good reader.
Speaking of which, this morning I was playing Two Blu with Edsel in the backyard. He won’t fucking fetch. You throw Blu and he runs around joyfully–he smiles on how he receives Blu–but he won’t give it back. He runs up to me and then runs away. But one day I discovered if I have BOTH Blus, I can throw one and when he runs back, I throw the other, and then we’re golden. Two Blu is an excellent game.
Edsel fekking loves Two Blu. It’s the happiest he is all day.
I threw Blu into the neighbor’s yard. I felt weird about TRAIPSING into the guy’s yard unannounced, and even weirder about knocking on his door before 7 a.m. Come and knock on our door. We’ve been hatin’ on you.
Come and knock on our door. Eds is waitin’ for Blu.
Come and knock on our door; we’ll play music at 2:00.
Anyway, you can imagine. Edsel could SEE Blu just on other side of metal theeng, mom. it ther. it rite ther. go get, mom. stop singeeng 3 Compnee, mom.
So now he’s curled in World’s Most Dejected Ball behind me, a thing I’d photograph for you but I’m charging my phone.
In my room, I have one of those long pluggy things with all the plugs in it. What’s that called? Anyway, it’s next to my bed, because a lot of the plugs in this 1932 house have the two-hole situation, and all the things I own need three holes to plug in, and let’s not delve into the 7th-grade humor we’re all dying to delve into.
Come and knock on our door. We’ve got three holes for you.
POWER STRIP. I have a power strip next to my bed, for the lamp and allegedly to power my phone at night, but all of a sudden my phone won’t charge there. I have no idea what’s wrong, but I discovered it when my phone’s alarm didn’t go off one morning because it was dead.
Come and knock on our door, we’re dead.
Come and knock on our door. Work’s been waitin’ for you.
So now I use a regular alarm clock like it’s 2005 or something, and if I don’t remember to charge my phone at night I have to plug it in in the morning, in the kitchen, and what this blog is is fascinating.
Come and knock on my blog. I’ve been boring to you.
In other news, today is Tallulah’s birthday. She would have been 11. ELEVEN! Can you imagine? I can’t.
Goddammit. Why did Tallulah have to get sick and die? She was my favorite thing in the world. Look at her square head. I can’t stand it. I loved that dog.
Anyway, that sums up today. Things annoy me and my dog is dead.
Come and knock on my–OH MY GOD STOP,