“You gotta lotta class.”
I like the way you shake your ass.” — Unknown artist (and I use the term loosely) since I can’t deal with waiting to the end of the song to find out who actually sings it.
I have always believed that shaking one’s posterior in public is a true indicator of one’s status in society.
“If you plant a stinky-bean, will a pfoof-tree grow?” — J. Reynard, 2005
Spaniels are evidence of a godless universe – or so I’m told.
Yesterday I went for a haircut.
Bottle-Blonde-Girl went too. Except she wasn’t getting her haircut, she
was having her roots retouched. She put her large bag down on the
surface in front of the mirrors and out jumped a small furry beast. It
ran down the counter and attempted to drink my coffee before being
Bottle-Blonde-Girl apologised for the inconvenience, but she didn’t take
her long-haired Yorksire terrier home. She’d even brought a hot-water
bottle along in case Fufi (that was its name) got cold. Hmmm.
I think the next time I go to get my haircut I’ll take Bean with me and
see what sort of reaction I get. No-one told BBG that pets were not
allowed, so I don’t see why there would be a problem with me bringing my
What would be really cool is if I had a pet rat or ferret. Or even
better – a pet snake. They couldn’t kick me out because I’d cry foul
about Fufi getting special treatment, but the hair-dressers would all be
kind of jumpy which would be great fun. My haircut might not turn out so
well though, I suppose.