I got two dogs, or should I say they got me? It's a vague cold-war-esque area of our relationship, please don't misunderstand me, we love each other, too much sometimes, too little at other times, even aggressively on occasions. We're 3 amigo's trundling along in a choppy sea of confusing humans who look at electronic shiny devices far too fecking often, in our opinion. What is it with that shit? Once upon a time we walked more often and only looked at the hypnotic 'shiny box' after dinner, where are we going? Not walking the dogs that's where!! We beg you, to look up...sometimes? And smile :)
It's my 48th birthday today, and while I try to understand the vagaries of life, my place within it and other such 'big stuff', my amigo's have no fricking idea whether it's my birthday, a lobster thermidor or the postman. That said they do know the postman, (intimately) but for all they care it could be the apocalypse, but they love me...always have, always will. It's simple, it's effortless and we don't have to 'like' each others posts about our breakfasts'.
We walk everyday, sometimes twice, sometimes thrice (don't be fooled I got the vocab biatch), sometimes.....four times. We talk about the weather, dinner, and more recently Donald Trump and the mountain he is currently trying to ascend in his diplomatic attempts to placate the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
Our conclusion? - “It's the hair man!”
We reckon if Don and Kim (sound like an 80's pop band to you, or is it just me?) could agree some kind of ceasefire on the 'Hair off' comp our Japanese compadres could rest a little easier while sipping on their ramen and whale semen soup?
Does bad hair styling necessarily make you a tyrannical, dictating, misogynistic, incurious fool, with penile erectile dysfunction?
We await your sincere replies. No wait, we're out walking, so we aint awaiting.
Woof!
Be Happy, Smile often my friends x