PULL OUT THE CAMERA! STOP THE CAR! STOP THE CAR!
Someone at this gas station along 45th St in Wallingford was not satisfied with your oh-so-last-season “Beer 12 Pack” and “Coffee To Go”.
This is so good I don’t have to say anything.
Except that I want to see what he does with a bigger board.
Jay and I made a pact not to forget our anniversary this year.
Which we did last year.
Uh huh. I know you are tsk-tsking, “How the blazes did you BOTH forget your anniversary?”
Easy.
Really.
I’ll leave it at that.
And relax, we still have a few weeks till we not forget this year.
What surprised us was the realization that we’d been together for seven years. Se-ven. That’s like 49 dog years! Or is it the other way around?
Jay, if you’re reading, I’d like to formally Thank You for never saying “No” to Dot’s Wandering Paparazzi Camera Hand and Her Relentless Pursuit to document our Sin-dual-gu-lar Existence.
You have no choice.
The following is based on a true story, but the names of the characters have been changed to protect their identities.
Oscar night. Jennifer Hudson is accepting her Oscar for Best Supporting Actress and thanks God, her mom, her co-stars, her crew, God (again), her family, her grandma…
Dott: Jaye, would you thank me if you won an Academy Award?
Jaye: No.
Dott (choking): Why?
Jaye: Because you don’t help me. All you do is sit on your fat ass and watch TV.
The correct answer is Yes, Dear.
I made a button in Vancouver at the super-awesome-cool Regional Assembly of Text with this typewriter.
It says “Give Me Your Donut.”
This is the branch that Dot hit.
With her head.
While walking briskly through Discovery Park.
Which she never does anyway (the “walking,” the “briskly,” and the “Discovery Park” parts), but Chinhon was in town and so she broke her own rules.
I was wearing some hatâ€â€see pictureâ€â€that was not only totally un-sports-gear-like, but also rendered my view of the world to just five inches in front of my face, with a clear view of my feet.
Both Jay and Chinhon heard the thwarp as my head hit the branch and turned around, alarmed. It hurt like hell but I was too embarrassed to whine about it then, so here we are: WHINE CITY.
Whine whine whine whine whine.
How much of an uncoordinated idiot do you have to be to hit a tree in a park?
I mean, only one of us is moving!
Can I be any less of an evolved creature?
I might as well have walked into a wall of an empty room.
Whine whine whine whine whine.
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the Largest Banana Known to Man.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, I rest my case.
Dot is exhausted.
Dot is too lazy to think of a blog post today.
Dot is going to talk about herself in the third person until someone stops her.
Dot has an upset tummy from bad grapefruit this morning.
Dot is getting sick of her computer screen.
Dot just had shrimp, tofu, and vegetables for dinner.
Dot is thinking of Rino and Josh’s coconut icecream for dessert.
Dot is waiting for tonight’s episode of 24 to start.
Dot is cold.
Dot is wondering if she should watch the Prison Break episode that comes on before 24.
Dot needs a hobby besides TV and Internet.
Dot wishes she subscribes to trashy magazines.
Dot vows never to take public transportation after what happened today.
Stop Dot. Please.
Dot is asking someoneâ€â€anyoneâ€â€to stop Dot from talking about Dot.
Hello?
Is anyone listening?
Dot would like to go now.
Can Dot go now?
Dot is going to get hate mail now.
Dot knows that.
Still here?
Dot was just testing you.
You win.
I am not saying I’m a looker.
Today, I was your average walking wardrobe nightmare: trenchcoat, baseball cap, jeans, and cowboy boots. (In some states, that is illegal. So I’ve chosen to not hurt your eyes by putting up a photo of me feeling up Santa last year instead.)
Somehow, I was whistled at, first while passing a few gentlemen at a construction site, and the second time, while walking by a dude in a parked car with Idaho plates. (I know this because I like looking at plates. It’s the first question they always ask on Law & Order: “Did you see the license plate?”)
Really? Me? You’re whistling at ME?
Every woman has contemplated this: Our whistle-worthiness.
I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I mean, did they like what I was wearing? Hell, they must have, because they couldn’t see much else, I’ll tell you that. Not that there was much to look at. Come on! It’s just Dot!
I’ve come to the conclusion that my boots were made for whistling. And that’s just what they do.
I take back everything I said about Meat.
I know I love it and yadda yadda yadda, but people, I totally OD’ed on it today.
The remains my lunch (above) may look unappetizing, but Oh Lord, trust me when I say blue-cheese-panko-crumbs-covered-steak never tasted this good.
Random Factoid: Dot doesn’t eat blue cheese!
I ate so much for lunch that I actually said the words, “No Thanks,” when offered Meat for dinner.
You know I never say no to meat. (And beer, and noodles, and Hello Kitty anything…but I digress.)
The point is, I said NO.
What’s next? I refuse a bacon-wrapped scallop?
Hmmm…ba…con.
Er, never mind.
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