Dot Will Leave - Yahoo

This is Dot, the love child of Jabba the Hut and the Wicked Witch of the West.

 

Just two more days and Grannydot will be gone. That’s good, but the best thing is, I’m not in jail. I try to be understanding and realize she is eighty three and all, but still…

She is the most self-centered person I have ever met. And she is nutty as a fruitcake, too.

Take for instance the night we went to see J-Man in his first band concert. We stopped for fast food because of the time. She had never had Chic-Fillet chicken sandwich and didn’t know what to order. So she looked at the menu and chose the biggest meal they offer. Sweet Tea told me what she wanted and added a fried peach pie to order. GD had to have one, too. Okay! I can live with that – if she would eat everything she ordered. But you guessed it, she at the peach pie first. Then complained that she had heartburn and wanted a stick of gum to make it go away. Just like Diet Pepsi stops her throat from clogging up when she eats pepper.

Because of Friday night traffic we were running a little late, so I told her to just sit on the front row of the gym bleachers. Well! She’ll have me know that she can climb a few steps. “Dot,” I said, “there are no railings to hold on too.” She said she that I could help her up the steps. I told her I would help her alright. I would stick my finger up her ass and march her up the steps to the top tier on her tiptoes. She said, “You just try if, mister.” I told her not to worry; I wouldn’t do that to my finger. She ended up sitting in a chair on the gym floor. Fuck with me!

She takes pills. When she dies the pill company will have to lay off twenty people. She takes pills to thin her blood because of a triple by-pass she had. That is okay. Not a problem. But she takes pills to make her shit, and pills to soften her stools and pills to stop the gas, and pills to help her cholesterol, and pills to help her digest her food and pills to help her eyes and pills for every occassion know to man that I never heard of. I ask her why she takes pills to make her shit and pills to stop gas buildup, and pills to help her see (fish oil peels.) She said her doctor said she needed them. I told her I think her body is confused. It doesn’t know rather to shit or go blind. She said I wasn’t’ a doctor and to mind my own business. I would if it wasn’t costing me a fortune in Rx and toilet paper. It is absolutely amazing how one little woman can go thought so much tp. Rolls and rolls! Of course she does have a huge ass.

For Christmas, we did something different this year and it was fun. Everyone who came over had to bring three gifts totaling less that $100. One of the gifts had to be a “white elephant” gag gift. Then we all drew numbers to see who gets the first gift. The second person can either take an unopened present from the pile or take the one the person before you had opened. Then the number one person draws another present. It’s fun, believe me. When it came to be Dot’s turn she chose the biggest box on the floor simply because she wanted to have the biggest present. Appropriately, it was a gag gift that had a Sponge Bob Square Pants toilet seat and two towels rolled up to look like a butt with a tootsie roll sticking out. She was pissed, but tried not to show it. Amber’s boyfriend, Bob, felt sorry for her (he's a liberal, ya know) and took it on his turn. I ask her why she chose something so big when she wouldn’t be able to take it on the plane when she went home. She said I could mail it to her. I said why don’t I mail her, it’s cheaper than a ticket. She pretended not to hear me. She is also selectively deaf, too.

Oh! There are many more “conversations” we have had, but I think you get the drift. She loves me and thinks I’m funny. I’m not! I’m as serious as an inflamed hemorrhoid. But she will be gone on Tuesday. Unfortunately Sweet Tea will, too. She will be in Murray Hill, NJ, for most of January. I do have another transport going to NJ and to NY on the 2nd, and I will stop and have lunch with ST, but Grannydot is out of my hair – till next Christmas. Pray for me!

A Little Humor For You

This lady is hilarious. It's my intent to give you a little humor before the start of the Christmas celebrations.

UPDATE: Did y'all not go to the site blow? You have to copy and paste, but Mrs. Hughes is hilarious.

http://crackle.com/c/High_Wire/Mrs_hughes_skewed_views/2041059/#ml=o%3D15%26fc%3D25%26fx%3D

Also, this is some experts from one of the funniest game shows ever put on television. Hollywood Squares with Paul Lynde, Charley Weaver and the gang.

If you remember the Original Hollywood Squares and its comics, this may bring a tear to your eyes. These great questions and answers are from the days when “Hollywood Squares" game show responses were spontaneous, not scripted, as they are now. Peter Marshall was the host asking the questions, of course...
Q. Do female frogs croak?
A. Paul Lynde: If you hold their little heads under water long enough.
Q. If you're going to make a parachute jump, at least how high should you be?
A. Charley Weaver: Three days of steady drinking should do it.
Q. True or False, a pea can last as long as 5,000 years.
A. George Gobel: Boy, it sure seems that way sometimes.
Q. You've been having trouble going to sleep. Are you probably a man or a woman?
A. Don Knotts: That's what's been keeping me awake.
Q. According to Cosmopolitan, if you meet a stranger at a party and you think that he is attractive, is it okay to come out and ask him if he's married?
A. Rose Marie: No; wait until morning.
Q. Which of your five senses tends to diminish as you get older?
A. Charley Weaver: My sense of decency.
Q. In Hawaiian, does it take more than three words to say "I Love You"?
A. Vincent Price: No, you can say it with a pineapple and a twenty.
Q. What are "Do It," "I Can Help," and "I Can't Get Enough"?
A. George Gobel: I don't know, but it's coming from the next apartment.
Q. As you grow older, do you tend to gesture more or less with your hands while talking?
A. Rose Marie: You ask me one more growing old question Peter, and I'll give you a gesture you'll never forget.
Q. Paul, why do Hell's Angels wear leather?
A. Paul Lynde: Because chiffon wrinkles too easily.
Q Charley, you've just decided to grow strawberries. Are you going to get any during the first year?
A. Charley Weaver: Of course not, I'm too busy growing strawberries.
Q. In bowling, what's a perfect score?
A. Rose Marie: Ralph, the pin boy.
Q. It is considered in bad taste to discuss two subjects at nudist camps. One is politics, what is the other?
A. Paul Lynde: Tape measures.
Q. During a tornado, are you safer in the bedroom or in the closet?
A. Rose Marie: Unfortunately Peter, I'm always safe in the bedroom.
Q. Can boys join the Camp Fire Girls?
A. Marty Allen: Only after lights out.
Q. When you pat a dog on its head he will wag his tail. What will a goose do?
A. Paul Lynde: Make him bark?
Q. If you were pregnant for two years, what would you give birth to?
A. Paul Lynde: Whatever it is, it would never be afraid of the dark.
Q. According to Ann Landers, is there anything wrong with getting into the habit of kissing a lot of people?
A. Charley Weaver: It got me out of the army.
Q. It is the most abused and neglected part of your body, what is it?
A. Paul Lynde: Mine may be abused, but it certainly isn't neglected.
Q. Back in the old days, when Great Grandpa put horseradish on his head, what was he trying to do?
A. George Gobel: Get it in his mouth.
Q. Who stays pregnant for a longer period of time, your wife or your elephant?
A. Paul Lynde: Who told you about my elephant?
Q.When a couple have a baby, who is responsible for its sex?
A. Charley Weaver: I'll lend him the car, the rest is up to him.
Q. Jackie Gleason recently revealed that he firmly believes in them and has actually seen them on at least two occasions. What are they?
A. Charley Weaver: His feet.
Q. According to Ann Landers, what are two things you should never do in bed?
A. Paul Lynde: Point and laugh

WE DON'T STOP LAUGHING BECAUSE WE GROW OLD, WE GROW OLD BECAUSE WE STOP LAUGHING

My Christmas Story

This is my Christmas story. It’s very moving, so, if you are the emotional type, stop reading now.

Little Johnny came up to his mother and asked, “Mama, what am I going to get for Christmas?”

Mama said, “Not a damn thing. You’ve been a little shit all year long.”

Little Johnny whined, “But mmaaaa maaaaa, it’s Christmas.”

Mama said, “Okay! Since the real meaning of Christmas it the celebration of the Baby Jesus’ birthday I want you to go to your room and write the Baby Jesus a letter telling him how bad your have been all year and how you are going to change. Then, if He likes the letter you MIGHT get something for Christmas.”

He takes off to his room, sits at his desk with a pencil and paper and prints, “Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a bad boy all year long and I promise that for the next 6 months I’ll…”
He pauses and thinks, “That is an awfully long time. Maybe I had better not commit to such a long time. He wads the paper into a ball and flings it over his shoulder, and begins again.

“Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a bad boy all year, but I promise that for the next month I’ll…” He stops and thinks to himself, “This is December and we have Christmas parties at school and church and New Years Eve parties, too. I’d better not commit to that length of time, either.” So he wads that paper up and slings it over his shoulder, and starts again.

“Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a bad boy all year long, but I promise that for the next…” He rips the paper up and wads it into a ball thinking, “Ah, hell! He knows me better than that.”

He runs down to the Nativity scene and grabs the Big V (Mary) and runs back to his room, locks her in his desk drawer and writes, “Dear Baby Jesus, If you ever want to see your mother again…”

Sniff, sniff. It gets to me every year.

The Final Santa Show - Unless

As I promised, this is the last of the Santa stuff, but I wanted you to see my buddies.

This is Brie and Gabby. They are, like all my animals, rescue dogs. Brie, the white one, is a Great Pyrenees/Golden Lab mix (around 110lbs.) Dr. Amber called us to say that the mother and her 3 brothers and sisters were going to be adopted. All but one. She didn’t care which one we chose, but do it that day because a rescue organization who place them was going to pick up the others. When we got there Brie walked over and sat down on Sweet Tea’s foot and would not get up. She chose us. Gabby, a Chocolate Lab (90 lbs.), had been left chained to a tree with 10 puppies. The owners had moved away. She had scars from fighting something, and was heart worm positive. We worked with her and she’s fine now.

 

These two are Nancy and Jo Jo. Nancy is a boy and Jo is a girl. The original owner couldn’t tell the difference and though he was a she – thus Nancy. Jo was tied with a rope outside Pet Smart and abandoned. Becasue she was so scared and abused, no one could get near her. Except Sweet Tea, who just happened to be there dropping off lunch to Amber and her rescue workers. The same thing happened to me when I met her. She's that kind of woman. So we brought Jo home. When Dr. Amber said she would keep the dogs at her place until we could get the house sold, Nancy ran up to greet Jo and they have been inseparable BBFs ever since. So I guess I inherited a new pet.

 

I will be leaving tomorrow night after J-Man’s band recital to deliver 32 puppies to West Palm and Boca Raton, Florida. I’ll start around midnight and try to make it a turnaround trip (without stopping at a motel,) some twenty hours. Just depends on how I feel, the traffic, and those cell phone drivers.

 

Then, either Friday or Saturday, I will be driving up to Goshin, Indiana to pick up a dog that Dr. Amber adopted out about two years ago. It became separated from the owner and a kind lady found the dog and took it to the vet. The vet found the chip in the dogs neck. She got the information and called Dr. Amber to let her know she had the dog. Dr. A called the owner of record who said they didn’t want the dog. So someone has to pick it up. She was going to drive up, but with the snow and shit up that way, I told her I would do it.

So my week will be pretty full, but the good thing is, you won’t have to put up with my shit for a few days. I can hear the yelling and whistling from here. But I promise to return with a vengeance. Besides, I have to tell you about Grannydot. Let’s just say two or three days on the road without the whining and complaining will be heaven.

I might try to tell you tomorrow before I leave – or not. Be good, folks. I do have a couple of pictures of two pugs that visited Santa for Marni and Lori. But Lori is have some problems with her Pugsley, and I don't want to maker feel any worse than she already does. So, when she says it's oaky, I'll let you see the two pugs. THEN it will be all the Santa pictures. Except maybe the one where I had to get on the floor for my Play Girl pose because the dog would not let anyone pick it up.

Later, Gator!

It Happened To ME - TWICE

For over a year, now, I have been blogging and reading blogs. I have been amazed and gratified in reading post and comments from some of the most talented and funniest group of people anyone could ever be fortunate enough to be a part of. I wish I had just a touch of the talent, intelligence and writing ability you people possess.

That is why, to my surprise, I was not only selected as a Best Bloger Buddy award, but I was selected twice on the same day.

X 2

Marni, at It’s a Pug’s Life, and Katy, at Her Indoors, both bestowed this on me. I am honored and grateful. I think I owe them money or something, but, still, I got the awards.
And part of the award is that I have to select seven, that’s 7, people to pass this award on to. But since I got two of them, I get to do 14. And that isn’t easy, either.

I chose the 14 because they post regularly and interact with me on some level. I read over 40 sites a day so those that are not mentioned, please don’t be offended. I can only do so much with so little. So, if the feelings are not hurt, here goes:

1. brother dave, my liberal democrat from the left coast. I’ll convert him, or die trying. He is funny and sarcastic. If he was a woman I would marry him.
2. coopergreen, the original lying bastard. I think he is very talented with words, and I will, yet, teach him to curse (cuss).
3. crazy cat woman, whom I admire for her guts in handling her emotional problems while still being a good mother and raising a great family. Here’s a pill to ya, hon.
4. e.crag, my very talented friend who’s only think against him is that he is brother dave’s twin brother. Bless their mom.
5. gawilli who has some cool pictures and great stories, though she looses me when she talks music, which is one of her loves.
6. family tree junkie – teri my new friend, even though she is from New Jersey, she has roots in the South, and a funny sister to boot.
7. Miss Heidi, from Hick Chick, who is one of the most enjoyable reads. She is so talented and deeper than even she knows. She and Jethro would be a pleasure to meet in person – as would all you dudes and dudets.
8. Jim Latchford, my newest friend who is never read. He has some good ideas and comments and should be read more.
9. Mary Taitt of No Polar Coordnance, who is a very talented artist and always pleased me with her photos and paintings. I wish talent rubbed off on people because, if it did, I would be on her like a duck on a June bug. I would love to be able to paint and draw like she does.
10. old lady, who is a very talented writer and has the best stories of old town and grave yards. Even though she is married to an ex-Marine.
11. rwa, another new friend and talented person. I love his radio show and his postings. He makes you think – even though I get headaches.
12. hoosiergal, J. She is my new feminist friend who want’s to… what with me? Castrate, slap, hug, kiss, have my children, what?
13. that girl – Tina, the funny sister mentioned above. She is an ex-USFA lady and that is good enough for me. But she is so much more and that makes her a joy to read.
14. Special K, another new friend that is both funny and entertaining.
Clew Blues, new, too. She tickles me more and more.
Twist-o-lemon, funny in a very open and abrupt way.

Let me see, how many more number 14’s can I use. There are just too many of you. Sorry!

Santa's Second Week - One More To Go

Here are some pictures I made last Saturday. They are made with my camera and no one knows how to zoom in to get rid of the background food supply.

This one I made of ground control. From the left is Dr. Amber, Sweet Tea, Bug, Major Tom of Ground Control (Rick) and a customer in awe of our setup.

 

This is my two elves, Bug and J-Man. They really worked hard, too. They walked the dogs, petted all the dogs and cats that came by, and inspected every item on the shelves, in the fish tanks and in the cat room. We could't have made it without their support and help.

 

This is Ruger. His only goal in life is to eat and be petted. The looks fierce, but is such a baby. Much like me.

 

Now to tell you about some of the people who come through the store. One little guy came by me riding on his heelies. You know. The sneakers with wheels in the heel? He came up to me to say hello.

“Hey, Santa!”

“Hey, bud! What’s your name?”

“Darnell”

“Man, Darnell, I would like to have a pair of heelies like that.”

“Well, Wal Mart has a pair that would fit you.”

“I bet they do, too. But I can’t find a pair with training wheels on them.”

He just gave a toothless grin and punched me on the arm and said, “Santa, you’re sooo silly.” And skated off. Little shit! Punching Santa! Humph!

The little kids who come through are awed and half are afraid to come see me. But they are so cute.

Every now and then a real nice tight fitting pair of jeans will come through. It’s much better than looking at the backs of dog’s heads all day. Thanks, ladies! Rick and I appreciate it. Ho! Ho! Ho!

Then there are the people who are wwaaaaayyyy to fat to wear short shorts and shirts that show too much midriff. I have to assume there are no mirrors in their homes.

A few come through in the full regalia complete with sequins or rinestones. Six inch heels, tight jeans or short skirts, sexy blouses and a jacket, even though it is 70 degrees outside.

We also see the pet lovers who stop and tell you all about their fostering achievements and animal rescue efforts because they are wonderful people who will have a special place in heaven. I hope it’s in the kennels there.

But most of the people coming in make it worth it. They are nice and appreciative and understand what is actually going on. They even thank Santa for his efforts and make nice comments. I just tell them to blow it out their asses and get this damn dog off my lap. It stinks and you both of you need to take a bath.

Sunday my arms were sore because I had a great many large dogs and I had to strain to keep them sitting beside me, or between my legs or in my lap until a decent picture can be made. One mastiff mix just climbed into my lap and set down on my arm and I had to hold him by the butt for several seconds. It was so funny. He was a true lap dog. There were several poses with two or three lab size dogs. Lab’s are not made to sit and pose. You have to keep a gentle pressure on their sides to keep them where you want them. And their heads are in constant motion. That’s when the little ball peen hammer comes in handy. Glad my suite is red. The most I had to pose with was four big dogs of different breeds.

Then there are the cats. Cats don’t pose. Cats climb. I found out that if I just let them set on my legs and I hold them gently, like a vice grip, by the hips, they will stay put long enough to get a picture. But they have a mind of their own and all the squeaky toys and box shaking you do to get their attention is useless.

Anyway, that’s about it for now. I won’t bother you with this stuff anymore. Except next weekend! I will have pictures of my dogs to show you. After that, no more Santa shit.

Those Were The Days

Amy, over at Mish Mash, wrote about her hard ass and her first grade experience, so I thought I would tell you about my seventh grade endeavor to be like my older brothers. Back in the 50's Atlanta there were no kindergartens or middle schools. You started the first grade and went through the seventh grade in elementary school. Then you went to high school, starting in the eighth grade (as a sub-freshman.)

My seventh grade teacher, Mrs. Stringfellow, pulled hair if you misbehaved. One day she came down the isle and grabbed me by the hair and shook my head telling me to stop talking in class. That afternoon, when I got home, one of my older brothers (10 and 15 years older) rubbed my head and said, “How’d it go today, squirt?”

I must have flinched, because he asked me what was wrong. I told him Mrs. Stringfellow had pulled my hair. He said something like; you probably deserved it, too. But when I walked out of the room I heard him tell my other brother, “If the bitch did that to me I would knock her teeth out.” That was good enough for me. If my brothers thought that was the thing to do, then it had to be the right thing. I mean, they were older and wiser.

The next day, down the row she came, grabbed a handful of hair and started shaking my head like a dog with an old shoe (guess I really got on her nerves sometimes.) So, I gave her an uppercut that caused her to bit her tongue. My feet didn’t touch the floor until I was in the Principle’s office. Then I was suspended for three days and kick out of school like an old drunk being thrown out of the saloon in a western movie (okay that was an exaggeration.) But I was suspended and my mom beat my butt, my dad beat my butt and my brother beat my butt for telling mom it was his fault. I walked funny for those three days.

But when I went back to school I had a “flat-top” haircut - complete with Butch Hair Wax. Let the bitch try and grab me by the hair now. So she used my ears. That's why, if you look at my head from behind, it looks like a car with the doors open.

Those were the days. I wonder what would happen to Mrs. Stringfellow if she pulled hair today. Maybe a coffeypot wanna-be would pop a cap in her ass. Or the PTA would burn her at the stake. Or the ACLU would sue her for denying the wanna-be their Constitutional Rights of Free Speech. But I do know that my mom and dad would still have beat my butt. That was their favorite pastime.

Try Again, Dammit

Now, read the post below and pulg in the where it needs to be here.

 

 

Well You Ask For IT

I think this will work this time.

This is the BEFORE picture made on the deck of a cruse ship in Tampa.

(See the Picture Above)

This is the AFTER picture made last Sunday. See what I mean about being a SANTA SUCK?

(See the Other Picture Above)

That's Monster. She is Dr. Amber's little piece of hell. She hates everyone except Amber, but she will let someone hold her if Amber put her in you lap. Except children. I believe she would drag a 75lb child into a cage and eat it. She hates kids.

If you want more pictures, I'll make some on Saturday.

Ramblings of a Retired Mind

My brother, Stephen, sent this to me. He’s old, too, but younger than me, the asshole. So he though I might enjoy this. He was wrong.

Ramblings of a Retired Mind

I was thinking about how a status symbol of today is those cell phones that everyone has clipped onto their belt or purse. I can't afford one. So, I'm wearing my garage door opener. I also made a cover for my hearing aid and now I have what they call blue teeth, I think.

You know, I spent a fortune on deodorant before I realized that people didn't like me anyway.

I was thinking that women should put pictures of missing husbands on beer cans!

I was thinking about old age and decided that old age is 'when you still have something on the ball, but you are just too tired to bounce it.'

I thought about making a fitness movie, for folks my age, and call it "Pumping Rust."

I have gotten that dreaded furniture disease. That's when your chest is falling into your drawers!

I know, when people see a cat's litter box, they always say, "Oh, have you got a cat?"
Just once I want to say, "No, it's for company!"

Employment application blanks always ask who is to be notified in case of an emergency.' I think you should write, "A Good Doctor!"

Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do... write to these men? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so the mailmen could look for them while they deliver the mail? Or better yet, arrest them while they are taking their pictures!

I was thinking a bout how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older. Then it dawned on me, they were cramming for their finals.

As for me, I'm just hoping God grades on the curve.



Enjoy Your Days, Love Your Life because:

“Life is a journey to be savored"

I'm Frustrated

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

I hate you techno-friendly people who can do shit on your blog and make it enjoyable. All I can do is type out a few stupid words and hope that someone somewhere understands what I am trying to say and either be offended or not offended. I don’t care which as long as you have a reaction of some kind and will note it in the comments. So all you people who can post pictures and stuff, BITE ME!

I have a few goofy pictures made this weekend at the Pet Smart. But I cannot get the goddamn things from my Kodak Picture Albums to this blog site. I suck at this and I am frustrated to no end. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, and, oh, yeah, FUCK IT!

So let me just answer some of your comments here so this won’t be a total waste of blog space. I’ll start by saying I didn’t know how much of a Santa Suck I am. Last year the pictures were made on a Polaroid camera. It is provided by Pet Smart, so we didn’t have a choice. This year PS changed to a small digital camera and a $1.15 printer which takes about three minuets to print each picture – with sometimes 10 or 12 people waiting with their dogs (who most times are trying to eat each other.). Our store is very lucky in that one of the volunteers who comes by every week to walk dogs and help out anyway he can, is also a salesman in real like of anything computer related for Cisco. He became very discussed with the quality of the pictures the store provided camera gave, so he went home and brought back his professional stuff. We are making the best quality photos of any PS store in the nation. But that also brings about a problem. Last year I couldn’t see myself very well. This year, if I look down at the animal at the time of the click, I look like I’m asleep. I did not know this on Saturday because I didn’t see any of the pictures. I saw few yesterday and I look like I am sleeping on the job. I am actually trying to get the best view of the dog and they don’t tell me when they are ready. Dammit!

To Pamela, that isn’t me in the photo you sent over, and I don’t make that good looking of a Santa.

Skippymom, Yes and no! I have been nipped a few times while trying to get a picture made. Some of the dogs are afraid of the all-red man with all the white hair on his face and head. It isn’t natural to them (or me) and they are just a little afraid. I try to get the owner to stand next to me and let the dog smell my hand before I try to pet it. Then we work it into my lap. Some of the dogs just jump into the lap and pose. Folks, NEVER EVER reach for a dog you don’t know or who doesn’t know you. Always slowly lower you hand to his nose and let him smell you first. It is the safest way to become acquainted. Unless, of course, you want to do it naturally their way and get down on all fours and sell each others ass. I prefer the hand method, myself.

Dr. Amber did have a small dog that she and I had to tell people all day long not to stick their fingers in the cage. She would try to bit them without a warning growl or bearing of the teeth. Outside the cage she would be just as loving as can be, but she was abused in her pin at the shelter she came from by the caretakers (minimum security prisoners working for the county.) Anyway, I spent the slow periods talking to her and rubbing her nose and the side of her mouth. She would whine and gently gnaw on my finger. After it was over, I came back to say goodbye to her, not even thinking that I wasn’t in the getup anymore, and she bit my left index finger pretty bad. I have cuts from my middle knuckle to the fingernail (and that is bruised) that did bleed for a while. But it wasn’t serious, and it was my own stupid fault. We laughed about it, too, because of all the warnings we gave to other people. Duh!

Clew, I would say go for it. It’s not that expensive and the shelter will benefit and you will have a cute picture. Some people were going to some of the copy shops and having Christmas cards made from the pictures. That is scary that my ugly Santa will be going all over the world. But if you are at the Pet Smart in Gwinnett on Ventura Blvd in Atlanta, drop by for a chat and a photo.

Have I said enough beside, damn, damn, fuck? Okay, bye!