Kythryne, Your Secret Pal Says Hi
...not that the above has anything to do with this entry. But she does, and she asked me to give you a shout out. And I am in a compliant kind of mood.
Yesterday was our last day at the beach and we are going home this afternoon. I am trying not to think about it, because: beach is good! Home is bad. Home involves bills and a leaky faucet that I haven't fixed yet and there's that toilet that's been running, and on top of everything else, YOU GUYS, I have done NOTHING but eat and drink for DAYS, and now I have to go back to work, and my jeans no longer fit my body.
What the hell? SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE.
We've had such a good time, though, and I am excited about seeing the dogs. The dogs are...well, I am betting that they are really, really, seriously pissed at me right now. I left them at the vet/kennel place for almost two weeks. That is like four years in dogs time. And Bo is not forgiving.
The last time I left Bo at the vet, it was only for a morning, and he was having his teeth cleaned. And when I went to pick him up, he was LIVID, SO FURIOUS, and he gave me what-for and how-dare-I all the way home. He sat in the passenger seat next to me, GLARING at me, and just...growltalked. He growltalked all the way home, which is something Bo does, and it involves him growling and talking (obviously) at the same time, wherein he moves his little Bo lips and tries to make little words to demonstrate his EXTREME displeasure. Because he lacks some important word-making abilities, however (and I am not EVEN getting into the science of that right now), all of his words sound like this:
So, the entire ride home, and I mean the entire ride home, Bo glared at me with white hot hatred, and talked. "RrrrOOOOwwwOOOlllOOOr," he told me angrily. "Rrrroooggggllloooowwww. GRRRROOOOLLLOOOOWWWOOOORRRR."
And I tried apologizing, but he was Not Having It, so then I just started laughing, which only made him angrier ("Rrrowwwoolooggg? RRROWWWOOLOOGGG!"), and I had to get my cell phone and that is when I called all kinds of people and left them voicemails of Bo growling at them. I did not give any explanation. As soon as I heard the beep, I just held the phone up to his lips as they trembled with fury, and let the hatred be broadcast to the voicemail of people throughout this great country.
About an hour later, I got a message from Ziz, that just said, "What in the HELL did you do to Bo? Are you skinning him alive?"
Aaaaaaaanyway. So I am excited about seeing the dogs, but I am not so excited about the verbal lashing that I am sure to receive. And, I am not excited about the drive home. Sigh.
Today, Dukay and I will spend approximately seventy hours in the car together. We may murder one another; you just never know. It is a small car. And we have to go a long way.
And Dukay is going to want to listen to his music, and his music is awful, IT IS SO BAD, and he just loves anything that is spacey and jam-bandish, and I JUST DON'T HAVE THE PATIENCE, PEOPLE, to wait around for musicians to decide what they're going to play. And I DO NOT HAVE THE PATIENCE for songs that last nineteen minutes, plus a seven minute drum solo, and nobody EVER sings, they just PLAY shit, and SOMETIMES they are not even playing instruments, and once Ziz and Dukay went to a concert together to hear one of his bands, and Ziz got home and looked at me and said, "Dear Lord, at one point, the man played a shoe, and THAT IS NOT MUSIC, that is screwing around with footwear."
SO. You can see that maybe I am not so excited about spending the next eight hours in the car with someone who wants to listen to shoes and spoons and the sounds of washing machines dying and hair catching fire, or whatever the hell. I just want to listen to books on tape (as I do), but Dukay lacks the attention span for any such endeavor. Dukay lacks the attention span of a gnat, but that is another issue altogether. (Sometimes Dukay will abandon a subject that we are discussing, but then pick it up again several hours later, without warning. Like, one morning, we will be talking about that song Old MacDonald's Farm and how it is kind of weird, and then we will stop talking about it -- we will do something else for the rest of the day, something that does not involve farm animals at all, and then around 11 at night, we will be sitting on the couch with friends, and he will turn and look at me, and with NO WARNING WHATSOEVER, announce, "Of course, sheep don't bark," and then he will turn around and that will be the end of the conversation. And everyone will stare at us, trying to figure out if we are speaking in code, or whether they missed that all-important conversational shift that made it somehow appropriate for Dukay to announce, with CONVICTION, that sheep do not, indeed, bark.)
(And then I have to explain it, because Dukay is already absorbed in something else. And then I look like an idiot. This is called a Dukay Dive Bomb. The Dukay Dive Bomb is a part of my daily reality.)
ANYWAY. So, that is what I will be dealing with for the rest of the day. And I'm bummed, y'all, because this means I will have to say goodbye to my sister, and to her boyfriend devin, who I really like even though he insists that I spell his name without the use of capital letters (we won't try to understand that). He is very funny. He and Ziz together equal hours of entertainment, especially because they hardly ever get to see each other. She lives in L.A. now, and he is still in Boston, and one day we will kidnap them both and force them to just live in my house, already, and we will all eat Flav-O-Ice and not eat the green ones and tell jokes and drink things with umbrellas all day long.
But for now, the vacation is over, and I am sad. Tomorrow I have to go back to work, and pick up the dogs, and pay the bills, and slop the hogs, and whetever the hell else has to be done. But I can promise you one thing: whatever I do, Bo will have something to say about it. And that something is not going to be good.