It’s as if she said give me the Demi Moore but they gave her the Hitler. Since it’s been short things have changed. Now she’s Miss Bossy Pants.
Colonel Rara demands Mow Mow and I walk in tight formation. Mow Mow on my left, my eyes forward, shoulders square, feet always pointed in the direction I intend to walk.
Warden Rara says lockdown is at 11pm sharp. Mow Mow is to be crated regardless of whether or not she’s tired. The Warden needs her sleep, Mow Mow needs routine. There will be no discussions about going to bed without me.
The accounting firm of Rara & Rara says that the procurement of dog treats are no longer allowed through a vendor, “We can buy ten pounds of ground beef for what pet stores charge for lips and assholes.”
Maybe it’s because she’s under the most stress ever and works a million hours. Is it possible I’m misinterpreting all this? Could bossy really just be determined? Maybe her discipline offsets my wanting to spoil our dog rotten.
Could there be some transference going on here?
Nah, it’s definitely the hair…
3 comments:
The paralells between Ra Ra, you, and Mow Mow and me, Mick, and the girls are astounding.
Note my hair is short too. Draw your own conclusions.
How does she not beat you down for these posts? Just curious....
Some sage advice: if mama ain't happy nobody's happy; especially not daddy. Short hair empowers chicks, btw. On the other hand, I have long hair, and I rule. Think of it this way: you can't have sex with the dog. Well perhaps I should say, you shouldn't. Have sex with the dog. Anyway, maybe you should give Miss Bossy Pants a night of pampering, sans doggie, that she will remember for a long time. Then write about it. Apart from all the controlling, I have no life.
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