If I were to get a dog (of which there is a 1 in 32,915 chance that I would) I would get a Great Pyrenees or a New Foundland. But I wouldn’t have anywhere to put it and all my stuff would disappear under a layer of hair and slobber. Maybe when I move out to the country. With my lavender garden. And my green shingled house. And my purple bathtub with gold stars. When I am 80 and have long hair and many lovers.
Well, I think it’ll be a great life when I’m old. Perhaps you can come by every once in a while and can brush rosemary oil into my hair and give me haircuts. Though not above the shoulders. I’ll make you super nice salads with homemade dressings and goat cheese. (I forgot to mention I will also have a few goats.) And we’ll talk about the good ol’ days when kids listened to decent music like 50-cent and marilyn manson and they wore decent clothes like hip huggers and short tank tops and didn’t drink until they were old enough to drive. Yup. We’ll be pretty old then.
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