Squeaky. Squeaky. Squeaky. Squeaky. Squeaky. Squeaky. Squeaky. Squeaky.
Puppy figured out where the squeaker is on his toy. He then comes in and hits me on the leg and yells at me. I think he just said "Suck it, sister." (No, he does not call me mom because I think that's just creepy when people talk for their pets and refer to themselves as mom or dad. Why he would think we're sibs, though, I dunno.)
Queen of my own Magic Kingdom, full of all the irreverent, obnoxious, and sometimes offensive sarcasm you know and love. I don't care what people think of me, but I do care if you like my blog. Read, forward, repeat.
