On a silly note, I thought of this song this morning and have been giggling to myself ever since:
Like Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat
Like Fred Flintstone driving 'round with bald feet
Should I have another? Nah, skip it.
Go to the back of the bus and bust with with whip-ette
Rope-a-dope dookies from around the neck
(Hoo ah!) I got you all in check.
Running from the law, the press and the parents
(Is your name Michael Diamond?) Nah, mine's Clarence.
On a sad, terrible, I feel like shit and needed the above giggle, note...
The Weimariener Rescue group called us today and said they had a family match for Kuby. For those following along, I have a dog we rescued from evil meanies, but he wasn't a good fit for us. He poops and destroys things even after several thousands of dollars on training, behavior modification, and many many vet visits to try medication. He is just unhappy here, and needs to be with many other dogs and ride in the front seat every time. We can't provide that. Mr. Stoney just got back from the interview with the new family, and all of the dogs got so wiggly and happy with each other, the family freaked out over how beautiful he is, what good health he's in... It's the right thing, but I feel like a loser failure poop head.
(But I REALLY feel bad because I know it's a relief deep down inside. I feel bad that I don't feel as bad. I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON.)
::hangs head in shame::