I'm house and dog sitting for a girlfriend right now, just a few blocks from home. Her dog is a very frou-frou Maltese with a pink rhinestone collar who gets monthly trips to the groomer' be dyed pink or purple (with non-irritating vegetable dye). She pretty much wants nothing to do with the slobbery beast that is my own canine companion.

Chaucer, however, adores her, as evidenced by his "Can we keep her, Mom, can we??" face:

Within five minutes of being there, Chaucer had located one of her toys, and bounded over with it to show off. I couldn't tell what it was at first; it just looked like a hunk of black fabric in his mouth. "Drop," I told him.  And this is what fell to the floor:

I promptly informed my dog that his man card had been revoked, and then texted that pic to his dogfather C. in San Francisco. His response: "This is what happens when we castrate our pets."


I've been trying to get my friend M. to join Instagram, and even sent him a good portrait I have of him to use as a profile pic. He lives in another state, and though I hear all the stories of his adventures and daily life, I want visual aids.

Me: I just have selfish motives. I wanna see the cigar shop where you hang out, your friends, etc. I'm curious!

M: I'm running the cigar shop today. ...My first customers were emo kids sans IDs.

Me: Did they say, "Cuban the rules just this once, please?"

M: Pshhhh no, they flipped their bangs out of their faces and said "we don't usually need it." Uh huh.

Me: Funny, that's exactly what I say to my dealer. ...Just before I ask if there's a bulk discount.