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Friday, May 3, 2013

One Direction Reflection

Okay, at least my bed head is getting hipper!  After I dropped my freshman daughter off at school, I came home, looked in the mirror and quickly realized how lucky I was to not have been mobbed by hoards of squealing teens.  Why?  Because I was a dead ringer for Harry Styles from British boy band One Direction (I hate when they call boy bands "bands" when none of them play instruments).  See.

The only difference is that I can grow some facial hair and pubes.  Not seeing it?  Okay, I will put it in context for you. 

Hard to pick me out, isn't it?  Okay, I am the gray haired overweight boy in the middle holding an outdated $7 microphone.  Don't boy bands need more overweight gray haired boys holding $7 microphones in them anyways?  Maybe, I will just take my toy guitar and my resemblance and start  a middle-aged One Direction tribute boy band.

I wish Bing Crosby was still alive.  He would be perfect for my boy band!  Now if I can kinda learn the first five seconds of the rest of One Direction's songs, maybe I can fill a couple of hours.  There is another member of our family that bears a resemblance to a few famous figures.  You have not met her yet.  She is our newest addition since the passing of Vegas.  She is a Yorkie named Sadie.  Just a coincidence that Yorkie and Yoda both begin with (insert your own bad Sylvester Stallone impersonation here) "Yo".  Methinks not.

Still not convinced?  Check her out after a bath.  "Look like Sadie I do," says Yoda.

When she's dry, she gets to be possibly the cutest dog I have ever seen despite her similarities to Chewbacca.

She even makes the Wookie noise sometimes.

I always thought that Cha-Ka from the old Land of the Lost looked like if Chewbacca was going to go in for a job interview at a bank or an office and had to shave his face to look presentable.  On a similar note, could you imagine the size of the hair net if he put in for a job as a fry cook?


Well, today I let Sadie out and was curious as to why she wasn't wanting in.  Usually if there is even the remotest chance that a drip would fall on her outside, she's just fine with pissing in the house.  Sometimes it doesn't even take the drip.  I hollered for her and when she came racing in, her beard looked like Jack Sparrow's and her face smelled like a goat's ass (which ironically is exactly how I would imagine Jack Sparrow to smell).  My apologies to all of my goat readers.

Of course this was the only time all day that she chose to give me what we call the "piranha attack" which is just a flurry of tongue, teeth, cold wet nose and hair on your face.  Usually, she uses her bottom pointy teeth and tries to hook your nostril like the worst re-enactment of a scene on "River Monsters" ever.  It's kind of like if the Tasmanian devil from Bugs Bunny decided to make out with you all of the sudden. 

 If you cover your mouth with your hand to deter french kisses, she will actually use her nose to wedge your hand away.  Unfortunately, this was right before work so I had to go in smelling like a wet dog that got that way from spending her free time frolicking in a sewer.  This turned out to be pretty close to the cause as I inspected outside and realized she had been dunking her face in/drinking some skank water that had been festering all winter in an overturned garbage can lid.  Now surely that Stetson cologne from high school that never seemed to get used up is around here somewhere.  Sorry workmates, no luck!  I bet those earplugs fit nostrils too.

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