Hello friends.

Note the emphasis on “friends” in that greeting. That’s some foreshadowing right there, so keep it in mind.

Welcome to this week’s installment of Me? A Model? hosted by your friend (see? there it is again) Brody!

Wondering what in tarnation is going on? Bop on over to the Me? A Model? page for more information.

Let’s boogie!

The time: Just the other day
The place: Does it even matter? Does anything even matter?
I’m feeling: Abandoned. Displeased. Shellshocked. Austere. Unwanted. Toothy.

Well, you might have heard that my “friends,” Chrissy and Justin, went on the trip of a lifetime to Florida last week. They’ve been jabbering on about it ever since, talkin’ about boats and sunshine and alligators and other dogs. And pelicans. I don’t know what “pelicans” are but I bet I would love them and that they would love me.

I saw them packing their bags last week but it never seemed to occur to them they they were forgetting their most prized possession – me! They left me here to fend for myself, to survive alone in the wild, to hunt for food and scrounge for shelter, all while they were playing with other dogs and swimming, which they know I love to do!

Okay, so maybe I didn’t have to do all of those things, per se. Maybe I stayed in my house and hung out with my friend, Chrissy’s mom, and had a sleepover with my other friends, Chrissy’s brother PJ and his dog Riley, and maybe I always had food and shelter, and maybe I had a fun week, but that’s not the point! The point is, they didn’t even invite me to Florida and that’s just rude.

Okay, so maybe the last time we went to Florida I got a little anxious in the car and stayed awake and panting for 14 hours of the 19 hour road trip, but maybe I’ve been working on my meditation and I would have done better this time.

Okay, so maybe I haven’t been working on my meditation, maybe I’ve been working more on figuring out how to get the mailman to open the door so that I can make friends with him.

Okay, so maybe I don’t want to make friends with him, maybe I want to take his bag and rip up all of the mail. And maybe chase him a little bit.

Jeez, what’s with the third degree?! Am I on trial here or something?!? Sheesh.

What was I talking about? Pelicans or something?

BRB, the mailman is back…