As I was running from one job to the next, I stopped at home for some food and discovered that the dog had eaten a jar of Vaseline. Where he found it, I do not know -- I'd been looking for it for months. How he opened it is a mystery. I turned the jar over and it told me to contact poison control if ingested, so I started to freak out and called the vet who calmly informed me that because my dog is a gigantic mass of pupster, the only concern will be some diarrhea. Let me tell you, any punishment I could have come up with for Damien chewing on stuff he knows he wasn't supposed to would have paled in comparison to what that poor dog went through later that night. Grody!
I went out with some coworkers on Saturday night and was reminded of a few things over the course of three beers in as many bars: I do not like going out. I liked hanging out with people, everyone was fun and nice, but then people started shifting from tipsy to drunk and I was still barely buzzed, so I was the go-to shoulder to lean on. Which, ok, I've totally been that person, but when everyone's that person? It stops being flattering and becomes more than a slight burden, literally and figuratively. But at least I went out and had a mostly nice time. Also, boys who are looking for girls looks like meerkats as they poke their heads above the crowd.
Now to study after my 12 hour work day. So tired. Although my studying has paid off: we read the Faerie Queene last week, and at one point the Redcrosse Knight slashes open a half woman/half snake beast and her babies come out of her, and that TOTALLY happened on Venture Brothers ("It's a manaconda!" "Ewww, WOmanaconda") and I got it and no one else did. I win.
