Aunty Christ and the Xmas spirit

This reminds me of when I had that vaginal rejuvenation procedure and then didn’t get laid for six years. God, what gives? Nothing bloggy’s going on these days.

I’ve convinced my parents that next year each family member will buy gifts only for his or her own self, but we’ll all thank the rest of the clan for our purchases. (Thanks for the rabbit, Dad!) That’s in the future, though. My dad’s early Xmas gift to me this year was a rain poncho for each of my dogs (now named Goofus and Gallant, for blogging purposes only—since really, who in this equation would be Gallant? “Goofus shits in the living room and eats some of it. Gallant abstains from eating his own shit after defecating on the living room floor.”). Now, there are a couple of things wrong with this, one being that, even as an unemployed person—even as an unemployed person who complains endlessly about how bored she is—I can think of better things to do with my time than chase Goofus and Gallant around the house, trying to put rain ponchos on them; the other being that I have inadequate storage space for unused doggy rain gear, and negligible tolerance for useless plastic crap. On the other hand, they look so freaking cute in their ponchos, and so miserable as well. Like unhappy lawn-furniture covers. It’s adorable. Just like when they joined the KKK.

(Coming soon: Real blog posts. Not like this crap.)