|Dangerspouse Rides Again|
Garage - Track
Sept. 29, 2003 - 3:41 a.m.
NewWifey(tm) is off on some girly type errand; buying fluffy things, trying on spandex, quilting, sipping Pousse Cafes, nagging. Who knows. Whatever it is women do when they're away from their men folk. But it's taken her away from the ol' homestead for a couple of hours, so I get to spend some quality time with Casey the Corgi.
There is joy in Mudville (this is day 3 of cold front meets stalled warm air mass. Much mud has ensued).
Actually, Casey is the only one of us two who is embodying the joy. Much as I love the tailess wonder, his ceaseless energetic demands for attention would make Mother Teresa snap. These runtish dwarf dogs are the smallest of the Herding Group in the canine periodic table, and typical of that group, will run and run and run and run until their legs are worn to bloody stumps. And then stump and stump and stump and stump. And then roll and...you get the idea. They just love to move.
Since I'm here - on my one and only day off - that means that he wants ME to move too. Very fast. After him.
About my only recourse, if I want any peace at all, is to fire up the dirtbike and take off WFO in 4th gear through the woods. And I really mean WFO. Anything less and that little ball of fur and teeth will puncture a $120 Michelin. For something only a foot or so tall at the shoulders you wouldn't believe the velocity he can attain. He reminds me of Luke Skywalker's Land Speeder; his legs are pumping so fast you can't see them. All you see is this brown furry sausage with ears skimming along a few inches above the ground at 45 mph, and a hazy blur underneath.
Reminds me of this stupid joke (made me laugh, though):
What Star Wars toy can you drive?
- a toy Yoda
I guess I should counter that with a dog joke, just so I have all bases covered. This is REALLY old, but my kid sister told it to me years ago, back when she was around 10. I'd heard the joke before, but having it told by a 10 year old girl, even if it was my sister, raised it to Immortal status for me:
Two guys are walking down the street when they turn a corner and see this dog sitting on the sidewalk licking his balls. One of the guys says "Man, I wish I could do that." And the other one replies "I think you'd better try just petting him, first."
Ah, the classics never get old.
Well, time to lace up the Hebos (brand of motorcyle boots, to the uninitiated) and see how many hours it takes to tire out a certain Energizer Dog. My money is on "longer than I can go on a tank of gas" if history is any predictor.
I really hopes he stubs a toe or breaks a spine or something so we can get back sooner. I'm *thisclose* to finishing the Haitan VooDoo Lady level of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Damn, that's the kinda life I wanna live. By the way, you know what movie that game reminds me of? "A Clockwork Orange". Remember Alex and his Droogs? There was one great scene where they're all sitting around the Moloko Bar, and some of Alex's homies are complaining that they're commiting nothing but two-bit crimes. They want bigger fish. Alex, their leader, is asking them what's so wrong with the life they're leading now: "If you need a motorcar, you pluck one from the trees. If you want pretty polly, you take it." That's exactly what you do in GTA:VC. I tell ya kids, there's nuthin' new under the sun. Or has somebody said that already...?
Ok, enough typitty-tappity. Gotta go empty a corgi. Vrooooooooom, y'all!