Passionate fister.

How bad does my foot hurt?

Well, when I walked downstairs to get breakfast this morning, half-asleep, I was fully, FULLY awake by the time I got to the kitchen. I whimpered. Not grimaced or swore, but whimpered. I stood on my left leg, caught the counter, and attempted to regulate my breathing back to a normal state. I lay in bed watching movies I've watched tens of times before all day yesterday and tried not to gorge on food. I was moderately successful.

How bad does my heart hurt?

Not as bad as I'd thought it would when I said goodbye in person in December, but still pretty bad. Otis was the kind of dog that liked everyone, and in turn, everyone liked him. He wasn't aggressive or Alpha, but he wasn't one to back down from many challenges either. As a Lab, he was incredibly intelligent, and well-tuned to the inclinations of friends and family members. He knew who would pet him, who would feed him incessantly, and who would play with him. To the world and casual readers, he was just a dog, but to me he was more than a dog. He was a loyal friend, trusted confidant, and treasured companion. He was in my family's lives for fourteen years, and in mine, everyday, for eleven. He was simply an extraordinary being. Unlike friends and lovers, who we all simply replace with newer, less slutty/more awesome models, dogs have their own places in our hearts, and when they leave us, only a void that can never be filled remains.

Do you know what I'll always remember about him?

He never, not once, ever, ate his own poop or vomit. That about says it all right there.

All this time spent in recumbent positions means I'm going to be hitting the books pretty hard. A few novels, and going to the used bookstore later to see if they have some home improvement books. Over the past few years, I've slowly began to understand things about "fixin' stuff." Advanced carpentry, plumbing, and electric work are a long way off, but not as impossible as I once thought they'd be.

Watched Sex, Lies, and Videotape the other night with a few friends. What an engrossing film. Lots of little tweaks in there to keep the viewer interested and engaged.


The Moose was what it was, to use cliche terms. I showed up buzzed on pain pills and leaned against the wall while consuming unhealthy amounts of alchohol. Some douche got bounced, which was funny, as one has to be unbelievably stupid and rude to get bounced out of The Smiling Moose. It made my evening. Comedy was mediocre, but then again, so is life. Not every night is going to be a winner, although I'm still a winner. Every night.

I don't know why that car is even made.-BK