Random Unrelated Image: Doggy Style
Whenever I’m taking a test to see if I’m psychic, when the test-giver asks, “What am I thinking?” The answer is always the same, “I would really like to fuck you.” They probably do. This applies if the test-giver is male or female.
I like dogs. Really I do. They’re just not all that complicated. There are about a half-dozen moods that a canine can go through within its’ lifetime: hungry, happy, sad, angry, horny, scared, and just-about-to-shit-on-the-carpet. I think that’s about it.
I set my alarm last night, as usual. Unfortunately, since I was reading a fantastic book till all hours of the day, I only left myself with about 4 hours of sleep before heading off to work. Usually, that’s not a problem for me. I estimate that somewhere around 3AM, my brain decided that we were going to get a full 8 hours of rest. My brain is really quite clever sometimes. I have to give it credit. How did it do such an insidious task? With a masterful plan. It delivered a nice, boring-yet-realistic dream where it’s Sunday morning, and I’ve set the alarm so I can get up before the family and have some “me” time. Brilliance on his part, because he knows I’d never wake up at 4 to go to do this. So obviously when 4 rolls around, I stand up, let laziness take the wheel, turn the alarm off, and roll back into bed. Round one goes to you, bastard. I think it’s time for a new alarm clock.
If I continue to hang out with international-type people, I’ll have to remember to remodel my bathroom. After all, if I plan on having French people over, they’ll need one of those ass-fountains, and perhaps a supply of fat burners.