The dog who hates me
Last night at dog obedience, the instructor said she wanted Tallulah and me to go off in a corner and make out. She said Tallulah was way more interested in playing with Rosie the Boxer than she was in me, and that I had to teach her to tune in to me. Calling Tokyo. Come in Tokyo.
Now, naturally, this led me to believe that Lula hates my guts and wishes anyone in the world had plucked her from that trailer park other than me. And it didn't help any when we stood there for 65 hours and she looked at everything in the world but me. Perhaps I am hideous to her. Perhaps every time she sees me, the Beauty and the Beast theme plays in her head.
So tonight I made her look at me before I posted.
Could she look more apprehensive? WHY DOES MY DOG HATE ME? You get dogs because they have to love you, because they are dogs. As opposed to cats, who are waiting for their paycheck for living with you.
Do you like how I added the hearts, to kind of force that loving feeling? She is like every ex-boyfriend I ever had. I am SO trying to make her jealous tonight at the dog park.
I know that I have not delved into any of the topics I said I would, and as you can see, I have retained the ding-dang job no matter WHAT rule-breaking techniques I try. I am wearing nothing but pasties and a headdress tomorrow.
Okay, so my diet. My nonkilling, slaughterhouse zero diet. First of all, my groceries were cheap. I got 47 million of those little containers of every pasta made, where you just add hot water, for lunch. And I got fruits and vegetables. And also Fig Newtons. My grocery bill was 24 bucks. For me, that's good.
Also, I ordered the veggie patty at Subway, and is it ever tasty. And also last night we had spinach pizza, which was similarly delicious. So all in all, it's been good other than when I saw the beef ad and almost died of lust. But, yeah, why must there be so many tomato items in vegetarian food? You got your spaghetti sauce, your salsa, your tomatoes on sandwiches and in salads, your V-8. I am expecting to have a hole in my esophagus by Friday.
What else did I say I wanted to mention? Oh, yeah, the neighbor! Hang on! Let me show you what she did to my cupboard.
So, I knew my neighbor was an artist, and I had told her that once we unpacked, I'd love to have her give us visual-skills advice. So she came over Saturday afternoon and we were together till 10 p.m. I am not even kidding. At one point, we were at her house, and I noticed on the wall all these plaques and awards because she is an interior designer. Me too. So we now have a whole makeover plan for this house, which will take years but it's exciting.
Here is how my cupboard/shelfy thing, because I am an interior designer and I know all the words, looked when I set it up:
Here's how it looked after she played with it:
I wish I had skills. Mad skillz. I don't even know what that phrase means.
It is time for macaroni and cheese, so I must go. I have not forgotten that I have to write about how I have either been lobotomized or I am depressed, and also how annoying I was at 24.



















