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That is a dog. My dog. Honey Bee. She looks cute, but she's actually trying to kill me. It's true.
I was giving her a bath yesterday, and when I went to dry her off, she took off running. She got out of the bathroom and jumped on my (unmade) bed, soaking my pillowcase. I chased her back to the bathroom, and she ran in, and I went to close the door behind me, when I slipped on the wet tile and fell. She then jumped over my head as I screamed in pain. Oh, fuck, my wrist hurt so so bad. I had to crawl to the phone, as I also hurt my hips and legs. I thought my little finger was broken, but Tony came running back home from his brother's house and helped me out. He told me it wasn't Bee's fault, but it WAS! She and the kitten tried to kill me this summer. They were chasing each other, ran in front of me, and tripped me. Do you see a pattern here? Because I do. I'm accident-prone as it is, I don't need any help!
In other news, my and Tony's four year anniversary (of dating) is coming up on the 8th of this month. For anyone who cares, we've known each other for five years now as of August, have been dating for four, and I have lived here for three years as of last June. Long time! I don't know why he hasn't gotten sick of me yet, but I'm not going to tell him that, lest he realize his mistake. Who knows.. maybe I'll even get something shiny this year!
If my dog doesn't kill me first.
(From now on, subject lines will be taken from my Googlism, as shown on my Profile)
(Not that I ever update)
(Which, let's face it, probably doesn't count)