Yesterday my manager called to see if I wanted the night off due to the Colorado game. Any sporting event shuts down the restaurant like a natural disaster. However, in my efforts to impress him (and because I didn't have a damned thing to do otherwise), I persevered and went to work. I made $75, a fair amount of money for only having served three tables. In addition to that, I was finished by 9 p.m. I had a great plan all mapped out: I'd order take out from Red Rock, swing by Blockbuster, leave the dogs in their kennels and enjoy the solitude of my Blockbuster night.

But no.

Instead I enjoyed cold, leftover spaghetti from Tommy's. Instead of watching a movie, I spent a half hour trying to coerce the dogs into going outside and taking care of business. Millie (Marni's dog) and Sami (my dog) had no problem. However, Ashley's psychosomatic Lab, Casey, was no sooner going to pee than prophecy the end of the world. So I said a few cuss words ("F*** you you stupid mother f***ing bitch") and swore at her ("Damn you, Casey"). Our next door neighbors heard me and said, "Lighten up." In six years of living at this house (including the four at MU), I've never as much as breathed in the same direction as them. I was scared. And then Casey pissed all over my leg.

The night concluded with Casey sleeping in the game room, Sami sleeping in her kennel, and Millie following me up to my room. I gave her the ok to jump on my bed. I thought she was curling in a ball around my feet. Instead, she assumed the position and pissed all over them. Needless to say, Millie has been and will continue to be in her kennel.

And so it remains that girls will do anything to avoid sleeping with me.