Monday, February 22, 2010

Random thoughts from Foley Monster

I've got some random thoughts rolling around my head.

Ning has made it so freaking difficult to write in Word, then copy and paste. Everything comes out oddly spaced with different Font sizes. I have to type this over again because when I copy it the posts becomes unreadable. Thank God I only had four Foleyacinnos this morning.

Pocket and I chased our first squirrels of the year Sunday. It's still only spring training so we made a quick dart and let out a few practice yips. I have been going out more often recently. As you know, Pocket pees two dozen times a day, and sometimes Daddy takes me with them. He says it's good for my hips. I have no idea what that means.

I do recognize I need to get into squirrel chasing shape. I have been downloading myself to the hammies cage and working out on their wheel. It's a great aerobic exercise but I wouldn't recommend it for everyone. Matilda might find it tight quarters. Plus the hammies are hilarious. They're like the chipmunks without all the annoying singing.

What is up with the Olympics? After Pocket and I won the gold medal in the bobsled I called our friend Gucci to brag and he didn't know anything about it because they watch it on something called "tape delay." Plus, take my word for this, you do not want to be an event spoiler for the Gooch. Luckily, he knew a gullible Shar-pei bookie and we made about 1,000 kibbles.

It also made my west coast friends miss my statement of attrition Friday morning. I will surmise: I was wrong. I was foolish. I don't get to play by different rules. The same boundaries that apply to everyone apply to me. I brought this shame on myself. I am very sorry and need to apologize to my Mommy from sneaking behind her back and snuggling on other Mommies' laps. I let down my family, my Brigade members, and myself. I am doing my best to be faithful to my Mommy's lap. I am sorry to tell other Mommies that from now on I am a one lap dog. (Well, at least after I complete my 12 lap program.)

Happy sixth birthday to my sweet Grandbaby Emily.

They had a birthday party Saturday night for her but Pocket and I couldn't go. Everyone agreed it would be for the best since I'm trying to overcome my random lap snuggling. Pocket had an idea, which in of itself, is random. She said she'd jump on any inviting woman's lap so I wouldn't be tempted. She'd be my own personal lap blocker. But then we realized she'd become enraptured with her reflection in the window and I'd be hitting laps like Jimmy Johnson. Mommy would come walking in and she'd find me circling and getting ready to plant my butt on a strange lady's crotch. But I don't want Emily to think we don't live her. It's just that I'm in a program.

I have started negotiations with that chap Tiger Woods' people about loaning her out to him when he goes on tour. If he sees a strange lady in a bar, and begins circling her and getting ready to plant his butt in her crotch Pocket can pop up and lap block him. Or poo on the floor. I hear both are mood killers.

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