The dog has vomited on the following surfaces today:

*Bed *Sidewalk *Linoleum *Carpet *Couch *Porch *Amy *Me

Not in a box with a fox yet, or in the rain on a train, but god willing, he will.

STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND WATCH THIS NOW.

We got another weirdo truck driver in today. Not scary-violent like the last one*, but a guy who was clearly suffering the ill effects of not being around people very often. He had a potent musk, eau d’whiskey sweat that has been scraped off the skin with its natural b.o., muddled in a dirty ashtray with just a hint of urine.

He picked up every single one of the admin’s desk decorations to inspect them and perhaps mark his territory, and exclaimed with each one “hee! Well don’t that just beat all!”

All of a sudden, he stopped. He was captivated, held in thrall by something. Just as quickly, his trance was broken as he shouted “Lookit, those pictures remind me o’ them Twilight books. You read those? She uses flowers on the cover…none of you have read ’em? It’s romance books. They’re about vampires, not like, rip your guts out vampires, but it’s a teenage love story. Ha, there was a 17 year old vampire what’d been 17 for 400 years, ’cause once you get bit, you stay bit.”

I WAS DYING, YOU GUYS. It’s not safe for me to hold in laughter like that, I could pop a kidney!

*I don’t think I ever posted about this– after scaring the living Jesus out of everyone talking about how anyone who talked shit about the Hell’s Angels deserved to die, he came back the next day, told the admin his life story, started talking about how he had hurt himself the day before (how, I don’t know, because he didn’t do any of the lifting) and then asked where the nearest hospital was. He left…and never came back. Two months later, the trucking company called to ask if perhaps we had one of their rigs. Yes. Yes, we did. Mr. Hell’s Angels? Disappeared.