5/10/08
Last night I wrote about how Spot loves to serenade people and how I had the notion to acquire a water pistol.

Spot didn't meow at all last night. Quieter than a church mouse. What woke me up was a ghost beep at 5:19 a.m. mountain daylight time, one minute before the alarm goes off when I cycle to work in the morning. Once I was up it dawned upon me that Spot didn't yowl or yodel or meyodel or make any noise.

Either she reads heptapod.org on the sly or I took care of something which may have been a nuisance for her. Here's hoping it's the latter because I sincerely doubt Spot was being considerate of my day's schedule.

All fucking week Mercury's been visible after sunset. Best time to catch Mercury was last Tuesday. Yet when the sun is setting behind the mountains that's when the fucking clouds decide to come out.

I've seen Mercury three times and I'd like to see Mercury again.

If I am able to actually ride to work three days a week, especially in the midst of a Colorado summer, here's hoping that I'm able to lose some weight and ditch this pot belly. Also save some money too. My pendulous fat gut is going to be the death of me.

Ten and three quarters of a mile. Mind you this wasn't all at once so feel free to dismiss my achievement out of hand. Just keep in mind $200/barrel of oil when you're laughing at my fat ass on a bicycle.

Ah good. You've made it this far. There's hope for heptapod.org yet! Perhaps someday someone will acknowledge the sum total of my typing and vanity.

The company president's daughter has acquired a small puppy. I think he's a yorkie. The first few times I saw the guy I didn't pay much attention and heard Spot's dismissive little voice in the back of my head. "Stupid little dog. Not even a midnight snack!"

This attitude swiftly changed earlier this week.

Usually she'd carry the beast in her arms and when he was allowed to run around this would always instigate her shouting the dog's name at the top of her voice. Anyway on Tuesday she came into the office and there was a small brown and black blur running right at me.

God damn it you little son of a bitch. You made me let my guard down and show everyone that the big fat guy with a poker face is a human being. The little fucker came over and started attacking my shoe then my hand was then viciously scraped by tiny puppy teeth. I started talking baby talk and calling him Mr. Tough Guy and how he has a spiked collar then urging him to eat more so he can get bigger and beat up all the other dogs.

When the general manager walked out of the break room and watched the ruckus I suddenly realized that I was being a human being. I wasn't mortified but I was a bit on edge for showing that side of myself especially since the other seven co-workers are in spitting distance and were probably watching the shenanigans.

Anyway it's become a ritual where the little bastard runs over to me and practices his pit fighting techniques.

On Friday I was reminded of the little lady pit bull from April 2007. I miss her. Sadly my lease and Spot won't allow me to have dogs. The former is a bit more ironclad than Spots but don't tell that to Spot.

I miss dogs, no matter how stupid and dunderheaded they can be.