Posted by David
on Oct 7, 2002 in Upside-down Hippo
| 0 comments
There is a Christmas special starring the Smurfs in which some sort of demon is conjured, and the only way to banish it back to hell is to form a circle around it and sing a song about how “goodness makes the badness go away.” This does not work until Gargamel teams up with the Smurfs and chokes out the banal words of their insipid little melody.
Yes, I am trying to distract you from what has happened.
Goblin and I admit that we have gone foraging in other people’s emailboxes again. It is a terrible addiction, I know, one that is frowned upon by all sectors of society. We do not like to be frowned upon. We would like to turn those frowns upside down. We would like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. We would like to take you to Funky Town. (We are showing our age.)
We would like to make this badness go away by providing good, world-class advice to some poor, unfortunate, ignorant soul. (We do not know what will make it “world-class” except that we have always wanted to be described in that fashion. We may not be upper class, but we are world class. Perhaps this means we are comfortable on sleeper flights to Europe and various locales in the Southern Hemisphere. Perhaps not. A certain Alitalia flight comes to mind.)
Dear Annie: I am 42 years old and have met the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. “Glen” treats me like a queen. He would do anything for me. We have not been together that long, but he asked me to move in with him, and I did. I am extremely happy except for one thing. Glen has a dog that lives in the house, and I am not handling it very well. I resent the dog so much that I am taking it out on Glen. “Rover” is spoiled, messy, stinky and thinks he owns the house. However, Glen has had him for eight years, and he loves the beast.
Last night, we had a huge disagreement, and I admitted my problem concerning Rover. Glen is willing to do anything to make our relationship work and said if it means giving up the dog, he will do it. But how can I live with myself if he gets rid of Rover? I know he would resent me forever, and I wouldn’t blame him. Glen said he could give the dog to his brother, who lives out of town.
What is the best answer here? Am I being selfish because I cannot handle this animal? I have never liked dogs in the house. No matter what, they are animals, they carry fleas, and they smell, even with regular baths. I feel terrible forcing Glen to give Rover away, and I don’t want to lose what we have. — Paducah, Ky.
I am led to wonder if my boyfriend, Rob, has been writing to Annie’s Mailbox again. What gives him away is the line about “Rover” being spoiled, messy, stinky, and thinking he owns the house. Goblin is also spoiled, messy, and occasionally stinky, and she thinks she owns the apartment. (She is on the lease. Or on the leash. Ha ha. We have a million of them.)
Assuming this actually is someone from Paducah, Kentucky (doubtful, considering the majority of the punctuation in the letter is acceptable), here is what we recommend: Have your boyfriend build a little house in the backyard. Put a food bowl and water bowl out there, and a blanket for when it gets cold. Then pack up your belongings and move into it, because if you force Glen to get rid of Rover, you are going to be in the doghouse for sure.
Make friends with the dog, limit him to certain areas of the house, and take frequent vacations to get away from him. This is the best you can do. He was there first.
Grr grr grr!
I don’t stink! I don’t have fleas! I’m not spoiled!
*snork pant whine*
Maybe a little spoiled. Daddy dropped a Wheat Thin the other day and let me eat it. Daddy says I’m not allowed to pull on the leash but lets me chase squirrels.
Evil evil evil squirrels!
*lick lick lick lick lick*
Oh yeah, advice. You are stupid. I hope Rover eats you in the night or at least pees on you. If you are Uncle Bobby I will pee on you. If you are not I might pee on Uncle Bobby anyway.