The monkey made me do it

A-buhhhhhhh

I got this in my Cracker Jack today.

They say that you grow to look like your dog, or that people choose dogs that look like them (I really don't know who "they" are, so you can't expect me to quote them perfectly, can you?), what does it ("THEY", the bastards) say for this poor child who apparently was born with the same facial expressions as his family Chihuahua?

I picture the harried parents, tired of Junior's screaming and oatmeal-flinging baby ways, setting him on the floor in front of Rover (oh, who am I kidding. Chihuahuas are always named something awful, like Pepe or Tiny or Mr. Fluffles or Virginia, instead of what they should be called - Dog That Ought To Be Kicked And Hard) and watching as the infant immediately takes on the vacant, slightly perky but unintelligent gaze of the boot-destined furball. They can stare at each other for hours, seemingly using some advanced form of telepathy but really thinking to themselves repeatedly "Hey, look, a baby" or "Hey, look, a rat".

There is an interview result that I am trying not to overly await today, and the self-distraction is not going well. It's for a position that would remove me from the temp world and toss me securely into the employed with health benefits (for the first time in three years!) world. I could finally get someone to look at that rash (kidding, mom! haaaaa. ha.). But really, not thinking about it (the possible job, not the itchy ragingly painful body-covering rash). la la la la la.

posted by LadyJay @ 1:49 PM