Dear Mr. Steve Jobs,
Thank you for the cool computer. And phone. And iPod. And stuff.
Love, June
In other news--
I got a percolator! At least one of you told me to in the comments so I threw caution to the wind. Well. More specifically, I threw 42 dollars to Target.
It is in there making perk-perk-perk sounds as we speak. Which we aren't. But you know what I mean. It's so cool! Percolators are a sound from my childhood. Am expecting a teensy Piglet figurine on my cereal spoon today, too.
Did anyone else have one of those? It must have come in some cereal but I am unsure.
Oh! And in case you read my comments last night, listen to THIS!
I was strolling with the curs last night, as I am wont to do (one of my neighbors and I were chatting when the snooty spaniel woman walked by last night, and the neighbor watched my dogs hurl themselves and foam at the mouth and show their dumb teeth and he said, "Those dogs need a lot of work." Yeah. Thanks for that news flash), and I passed the Snowflake house.
"Kin we pet yer dawgs?!" they screamed, as they always do.
(Here they are, tormenting Roger, in case you've forgotten them)
"Where's Snowflake?" I asked, as I always do. It is never worth it to go over there if Snowflake is out, as then it just War of the Noses, with everyone barking and being appalled and picketing funerals and so forth.
"SNOWFLAKE'S AT THE POUUUND!" they all screamed.
What?
Their nipple-ring dad ambled over, although I am relieved to tell you he had on a shirt yesterday.
"Either Snowflake or Goldilocks bit the mailman. They got out," said Nipple-Ring, looking sad. "They told me it'd be 600 dollars to get 'em out and I don't have that kinda money."
Those dogs are always getting out. They have a chihuahua named Pedro, who you notice I have never once mentioned because I could not be more indifferent to Pedro, plus it annoys me because twice I have tried to catch him to return him and he's a speedy em eff. Anyway, Pedro spends more time out of the fence than in.
"I'll see you guys later!" I said, stampeding for home.
"WHAT'S YOUR DAD'S NAME?" the littlest one, who is a button--have I mentioned that?-- called after me. Those kids are fascinated by my every move. I have no idea why.
I ignored her, in case she was trying to steal my identity or something, and raced home. The dogs were all, "What Sam Hill is mom hurry?"
How fast did I get to the dang pound, do you think? Did I have any idea what I was gonna do once I got there? No. But I cannot STAND the thought of those dogs in the pound. They are good dogs. They do not BITE. I mean, maybe they DID bite the mailman but I pretty much petted Snowflake over her fence every day for two years and she never remotely even showed me a fang.
Yeah. Stupid pound. Do you know what their dumb hours are? Noon to six. NOON TO SIX. How are those even hours?
Am totally going there at noon today, and does anyone want a dog?
I Noflake. Noflake assure you no maleman bitin' occurred.
And in closing. In summation. Finally. Thanks for participating in Chunks of Wisdom or whatever...the part that surprised me the most? That y'all are partial to certain kinds of ketchup. Really? I never notice a difference.
You also seemed to be loyal to Coke products...
Bah!
And you were almost religious about either Twizzlers or Red Vines. Which is another topic of indifference for me. Ketchup, licorice and Pedro. All "eh" topics for June.
Okay, will give a Snowflake report as conditions warrant. I promise you those dogs are sweet and if anyone is interested please alert me. Goldilocks looks just like Snowflake except (wait for it) gold. Those genetics, man. They work every time.
