Ugh. My band's show for this weekend was postponed because some guy at some bar wrote down wrong dates for when we were supposed to play. Buzzkill. And to think, we were just about to premiere "Gives You Hell" by the All-American Rejects as well as "I Hate My Life" by Theory of a Dead Man. (We would have rocked those suckers.)
To quote the little Lebowski: "Bummer, man. Bummer."
Making things more complicated is my wife's short business retreat, which leaves me solely in charge of taking care of the fluffy mess that is our dog, Graham. And by "taking care of him," I mean, I live my life as normal and he presses his fat fluffy face against the front window for two days straight waiting for his mom to return.
The dog on the left is ours.
His name is Graham, and his
cuteness, lovableness, fluffiness
and flabbiness are off the charts.
Good thing he has the looks,
because the smarts? Not so much.