I hate dry pretzels. I pick them out of Chex Mix and let the canines have them. Stinky gets the ones that look like knots and Tiny gets the straight ones. I think it's funny to look at her with a pretzel cigarette hanging out of her mouth.
For the love of Pete. I no sooner than type that last paragraph before I hear Stinky Dog let out a series of farts. I look down and see that she is puking up her freshly eaten pretzels. I guess the spicy kind don't agree with her. I'm sorry, Stinky. Tiny is suffering no ill effects from the pretzels. She managed to eat half of the "good part" (no pretzels!) of my snack while I was scurrying around, cleaning up the puke. She is an opportunist.
Roger went to work with me yesterday. I got to work and decided that I'd look like a real weirdo if I toted him in under my arm so I stuck him inside a sack.
He enjoyed his day at the shithole. I'm going to keep the sack in my car so he can come with me everyday. I thought about leaving him there on my desk but I'd miss him in my backseat and he would probably get stolen. Then I'd get really mad and would burn the building down. I don't want to have to do that. Sprinkling gasoline. Running around the building with matches. That's just too much work.