So, Jen went to the doctor today and everything looks good. He says she's about nine and a half weeks along ( which is about what we figured ) and he gave her an RX for the never-ending nausea. Thank god.
I spent the evening erasing old zip disks, playing poker online, chatting with my disgusting friend Melissa and watching a dog documentary on PBS.
Oh, and I smoked some cigarettes ( an eighteen year old habit that I must soon quit ).
That'll be easy.
There's a Chow who keeps getting out and roaming the neighborhood . It was hanging around my back yard tonight and Lucy was going apeshit. If I thought I could get close to it without it chewing my face off ( my past encounters with the dog have lead me to believe that it would, indeed, chew my face off ) I'd attach a note to it that said the following:
Dear Sir,
Neuter your dog, fuckface.
Love,
Michael
I've seen the owner walking the dog occasionally, but he kinda looks like the type of guy who has human skin suits in his basement and drives a black van with no windows. So, I hesistate to call him a "fuckface" directly.
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