But sucks to that right now. As soon as we got home (very late) I pulled up the blog to see if Susan had managed in my absence to "salvage" it, as she'd put it--or had she "scrapped" it because it wasn't delivering "the ol' puncheroo, blogwise," as she'd threatened.
So I was pretty happy to see that not only had she not "euthanized" the ol' Drunkablog (the blog, not me), but that she'd been blogging like a mouse hitting the coke lever. More, she'd been posting pictures that make my efforts--well, let's just say that the first one I saw was the one of clouds through an ex-convent window, which is better than anything I'll take in my whole p*th*tic fucking life. My woman, my woman, &etc.
Still don't get her obsession with clowns, though.
Josie
We got her. She's a half-sized Billy Bob, except cuter. Billy Bob's more of a manly man's dog like Karl Malden--I mean, like Karl Malden if Karl Malden were a dog. In any case, within .8 seconds of their meet-sweet (Billy Bob with the ol' attempted humperino) he and Josie were playing. They're so much alike they employ exactly the same strategery, going entirely for each other's ankles. When they do this at the same time their heads make a pleasant "bonk" sound.Aside from many years of redoubled dog-mockery, though, I'm really looking forward to training Josie to take a running leap off my chest and catch a frisbee like this amazing nerd did with his dog. I've never tried it with Billy Bob because at 45 pounds he'd crush my bird-like sternum, as the poets say.
Josie's light enough, and she'll learn fast--at least, if I use Rudy's Recommended Frisbee Training Method. (Dog trainers are big music buffs, aren't they?)
River trip
It rained a hell of a lot, but we still had fun, as long as you define "fun" as "a desperate struggle for survival." I'll maunder on about it non-drunkenly but with pics soon as I have a few minoos.Update: Good God, Karl Malden is still alive.
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