If you never want to look at your dog again without getting freaked, consider this: wouldn't it look fucked-up if it was possessed? Think about it. First of all, not only would it be talking, but it would be talking in some weird demon voice. Second, it's head isn't positioned upright like ours is, so it would give the effect of it rolling over again and again, when it's spinning around. Talk about Son of Sam meets The Exorcist.
Wouldn't you have hated to be the guy who did the Son of Sam murders? I mean, what must that guy have been thinking while the dog was giving him orders? And what sort of voice did the dog talk in while he was giving orders? I heard that the dog wasn't even his, it was his neighbor's. The dog would give him orders through the fence at night. Poor neighbors, thinking, "There goes that weirdo again. He better not be fuckin' mah dawg, or Ah'll bust his ass in.."
Speaking of people who take orders from their dogs, Alex tried to get me in trouble at work again, claiming that I was surfing the net instead of working. I don't do that. I only surf the net when there's no work to be done (this depends upon how much work Alex feels like giving me). Never mind the fact that a couple weeks ago, he gave me all of his work to do as well as his own, while he wrote an essay entitled, "My Feelings".
His imaginary girlfriend wants to date some other guy; her imaginary ex-boyfriend. Man, you've got problems when you can't even make people you imagined treat you well. Number one on my list of things Alex has told me that I Did Not Want To Know is the fact that his girlfriend masturbates after she sees her ex-boyfriend. Number one, why did his girlfriend, imaginary or not, tell him that? Number two, why did he feel compelled to tell me?
My mother, fantastic moron that she is, washed my black work dress over the week-end (it's dry-clean only). It shrunk. Not only did it shrink, but it shrank to the point where the hem did not go lower than the blue blazer I typically wear over it. I spent the whole day either looking as though I was wearing nothing but the blazer and a pair of pantyhose, or furiously tugging down the hem of the dress so I wouldn't get arrested for public exposure.
Katie's come up with a possibility for the new index page for Über Alles. I'm going to kill her. I told her that I would do that. I'm kidding. It's a lot like what I wanted to do. I just need to make a few (major) adjustments, and we're all set.