August 26, 2004
canis lupis in the domice
Golden Guardian Angel ladybug is the younger of my borderline, illegal-in-this-Country Am staffs, depending on the ever chaning mood of the director of the Ministry of agriculture who owns several pitbulls the Amstaff's 100 times more aggressive breed-cousin. Ladybug's older brother, Golden Guardian Angel Joker is a champion – first place in the terrier class of the Dubai dog show 2004! Yes we were pleasantly surprised. Right now I have about five to seven shots of Absolute Blue in me. Mixed, of course, with orange-carrot juice, just recently ordered from Marco Supermarket. Marco supermarket is just across the street from Al Chile supermarket – downstairs in our building, No. 42.
Means absolutely nothing as far as I can tell. Really? Nomber 42? So the freak what?! That sentence has no verb I alertly observe. I yearn for my homeland. Canada. It is my homeland don’t you know? I yearn for it, Canada in the same manner I yearn for my wife's caress after a few days of not having good wholesome sex’n’cuddle in the midst of a vast, first pregnancy. I’m a bit off right now to be sure but the words here writ, surely, stand as fodder for eventual revelation to the vast audience that is the WWW. Big brother has not nothing on you baby! Keep the faith! Lose the tie, but keep the faith!
The beet goes on. Borsht is the best soup in the world, I've been convinced to believe by eating it and the constant raving that this is in fact the case. Today I ate potatoes pure' and chicken fried and yes, I feel fed to the fullest. My wife’s cooking transcends all ceilings, glass and non-, in her constant “strival” towards the perfect cooked meal. (GOLLY!) it’s some good stuff!!!
I wonder how much of the on the job slag I miss. I am a straight listening dude; no really. Slightly pissed right now - can’t hardly see the keys for a lack of freakin’ focus but nonetheless believe in that silly little thing called "consciousness of the immediate" wherein one’s thoughts transmitted to paper are confined within the acolocic, alchoholic, alcoholic, THERE! filter confining - referred to sometimes as moderation.
DOGS! Back to ‘em! they have so much potential as amstaffs. For the past several years they’ve had so much freakin’ potential. And yet because I slave at finishing these degrees and because Bleep slaves at being the perfect man-about-the-Sharjah-and-Dubai-town, Russian DIPlomat in the freakin’ UAE, and because my wife is four months on, showing muire than slightly, and RESTING by Dr. Nasser’s orders, NO ONE HAS TIME FOR THESE FINE AWARD-WINNING ALREADY, SHOW ANIMALS!!! Damn! It’s frustrating! I phoned K9 friends in Dubai (different from the K9 P and kaka lauded in so many lovely limericks here and beyond) last week to try and pawn the two of my Dubai-bound champion dogs off on them egged on primarily by the aggravated nagging of melovely (alternatively me-luvly)…, and was snubbed by: EVEN THEM!!!!
What are you to do when even K9 friends have no place for your beloved animals!?! Dogs, Dogs, dogs, dogs! Damn canines! My wife threatens air in a syringe. She has had enough, it looks like. And there is the coming baby that we MUST consider. Canis Lupus might well have been a BETTER choice to constrict and confine to such a city prison flat! At least a bloody wolf would not (likely, that is) have nabbed first place in the Dubai freakin' Dog show! God help us for spoiling two champs!
AND… the beat goes on, in an authentically Arabic style and countenance. What a word: countenance! One that fills the empty quarter of any country with desert dignity surpassing Europa elite flare, Latino limbo, African Astute arrogance, and Chinese "oh so chinoise" chai. If micheal Jordan, in full five-storey IMAX, can admit to failing repeatedly then, gosh darn it!!, So the flip can I!!! Yes..., I have failed in CRITICAL areas of my life only to with paint scraper peel myslef carefully off the pavement to wear yet another Nike air innovation and drink yet another clear sprite bubbly sugar water. Woohoo!!! As they say in the slightly outdated, yet trying to seem hip, remains of a past youth culture vernacular…. And this ends this drivel.
See you when I’m SOBER – man. Okay byro, steady now chappie, STEADY!
Means absolutely nothing as far as I can tell. Really? Nomber 42? So the freak what?! That sentence has no verb I alertly observe. I yearn for my homeland. Canada. It is my homeland don’t you know? I yearn for it, Canada in the same manner I yearn for my wife's caress after a few days of not having good wholesome sex’n’cuddle in the midst of a vast, first pregnancy. I’m a bit off right now to be sure but the words here writ, surely, stand as fodder for eventual revelation to the vast audience that is the WWW. Big brother has not nothing on you baby! Keep the faith! Lose the tie, but keep the faith!
The beet goes on. Borsht is the best soup in the world, I've been convinced to believe by eating it and the constant raving that this is in fact the case. Today I ate potatoes pure' and chicken fried and yes, I feel fed to the fullest. My wife’s cooking transcends all ceilings, glass and non-, in her constant “strival” towards the perfect cooked meal. (GOLLY!) it’s some good stuff!!!
I wonder how much of the on the job slag I miss. I am a straight listening dude; no really. Slightly pissed right now - can’t hardly see the keys for a lack of freakin’ focus but nonetheless believe in that silly little thing called "consciousness of the immediate" wherein one’s thoughts transmitted to paper are confined within the acolocic, alchoholic, alcoholic, THERE! filter confining - referred to sometimes as moderation.
DOGS! Back to ‘em! they have so much potential as amstaffs. For the past several years they’ve had so much freakin’ potential. And yet because I slave at finishing these degrees and because Bleep slaves at being the perfect man-about-the-Sharjah-and-Dubai-town, Russian DIPlomat in the freakin’ UAE, and because my wife is four months on, showing muire than slightly, and RESTING by Dr. Nasser’s orders, NO ONE HAS TIME FOR THESE FINE AWARD-WINNING ALREADY, SHOW ANIMALS!!! Damn! It’s frustrating! I phoned K9 friends in Dubai (different from the K9 P and kaka lauded in so many lovely limericks here and beyond) last week to try and pawn the two of my Dubai-bound champion dogs off on them egged on primarily by the aggravated nagging of melovely (alternatively me-luvly)…, and was snubbed by: EVEN THEM!!!!
What are you to do when even K9 friends have no place for your beloved animals!?! Dogs, Dogs, dogs, dogs! Damn canines! My wife threatens air in a syringe. She has had enough, it looks like. And there is the coming baby that we MUST consider. Canis Lupus might well have been a BETTER choice to constrict and confine to such a city prison flat! At least a bloody wolf would not (likely, that is) have nabbed first place in the Dubai freakin' Dog show! God help us for spoiling two champs!
AND… the beat goes on, in an authentically Arabic style and countenance. What a word: countenance! One that fills the empty quarter of any country with desert dignity surpassing Europa elite flare, Latino limbo, African Astute arrogance, and Chinese "oh so chinoise" chai. If micheal Jordan, in full five-storey IMAX, can admit to failing repeatedly then, gosh darn it!!, So the flip can I!!! Yes..., I have failed in CRITICAL areas of my life only to with paint scraper peel myslef carefully off the pavement to wear yet another Nike air innovation and drink yet another clear sprite bubbly sugar water. Woohoo!!! As they say in the slightly outdated, yet trying to seem hip, remains of a past youth culture vernacular…. And this ends this drivel.
See you when I’m SOBER – man. Okay byro, steady now chappie, STEADY!
