Sunday, Jan. 22

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Mr. Murphy turned 6 yrs old yesterday.

We got Murph when he was a few months old...he had been living in an aquarium in a puppy store for a few months at that point. look at him - why was he not bought by someone when he was on display???...or is this like Shallow Hal, where he only looks like this to me....He really understands everything I say, and knows that everyone but me is a dumbass. actually, like everyone's dog, he answers my tough, lifechaging questions.....anyway, he has now run our house for the last 5 1/2 years or so.  What is that in dog years?  He's probably at the age where he could collect a pension if he worked for the state of Illinois.  I have no doubt that dogs are collecting pensions in this piss puddle (I coined that the other day, so I will use it a bit) known as Illinois. you watch - that will come out...but, I will not sully Murph's big day.  He and I are going to have a few beers to celebrate.

Q: How does a dog know it is his birthday?
A: He gets a rawhide bone every time he looks at you, obviously asking for one.
(author's note - I bought 10 bucks worth of Dingo bones at 7 am today at Walmart this morning and he has eaten about half of them)

more useless info:
I am going to go with a friend from work to his tattoo artist - I am going to have the 3 dogs that have owned me drawn as the famous gas station picture - Dogs Playing Cards.  one of these days, anyway. 

I forgot to comment on the snow Friday.  So much press leading up to the storm.  People at work with too little to do are let go early.  everybody forgets how to drive, or stay in their lane.  then the multitude of stories on the news ABOUT A STORM THAT OCCURS FREQUENTLY IN THE WINTER.  

anyway, maybe tomorrow I will have a better concept to write of...the Gingrich win may result in some crazy stories.  who knows.  Have a good Sunday.

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