Once again I called Mike with an extreme emergency and once again, I had to wait till 4:30 am for him to call me back. I think he deliberately calls that late thinking I won’t answer the phone. Wrong.
“What’s your serious emergency this time?” he drawled. (And I mean “draaaaaaaaaawled”.)
I said, “Don’t mock me. It is serious. I’m having problems finding new pictures of hott cops for my Hott Cops blog and I--hello? Helloooo?” Little does he realize how this is going to negatively impact him. If I can‘t find pics of hott cops to drool over, I’ll be forced to spend my time yakking with him on IM.
I guess I should have told him his fridge stopped working two days ago, but I hate to bothering him with the unimportant stuff, you know?
I’m starting to pack up my things for the trip home, and I’m sad. Soon it will be back to my trailer, back to my life and back to my site consisting of five faithful skimmers. Gee, one for every year that I’ve had the site. At this rate, I’ll be a famous writer in two thousand and never.
Mr. G called and asked how Lassie was. I told him she was just fine. At this point, he still thought she was a dog. As I was chattering with him, Male Offspring #8 yanked on Lassie’s tail and she let out a major squeal. Mr. G said, “What was that noise?”
I said, “Not to worry, honey. I’m just watching Deliverance. After all, this is Georgia.”
He said, “So help me, if you bought a pig, you can take it right back. Do NOT bring that thing home.” Sigh. All my cajoling, all my begging, all my offering generous blowjobs into 2008 didn’t help one iota. I had to take the pig back. Sigh.
It’s been mucho fun having him. As a special treat, before I took Lassie back to the farm, Male Offspring #8, and I took him out for a fast food feast. It was so cute, glancing into the rearview mirror and seeing them strapped in their little car seats, side by side, both watching “Barnyard”. I think Lassie recognized a few relatives. And she was such a good girl, even when I got stopped by a HOTTIE from the Atlanta poleece. As the officer approached my car, he shined a flashlight into the back seat and said, “Can I see your license and --hell, you have a pig in a car seat!”
As I passed him my license and registration, I said, “Yeah, you probably see that a lot down here, huh?”
He said, “And why would that be, Ma’am? The farmers taking their pigs to market?”
My cop sarcasm radar went off, but I ignored it and said, “Well, market and the drive through window at McDonald’s. That’s where we’re going. But please don’t keep referring to her as a “pig”. My son thinks she’s a dog.”
“Why would he think that?”
“I have no idea why he would confuse Lassie for a dog.”
“Yeah, that’s the pig’s name.”
“Doesn’t that explain a hell of a lot.”
He went back to his car and the next thing I knew, his partner was standing by my window with my information and his flashlight muttering something like, “This I gotta see.”
From the “how Goddess lost her groove, her $50 and her pig” file: I drove Lassie back to the pig farm and asked the farmer to give me my moola back.
Old MacThief said, “I’ll take the pig back for $15”
I‘m like, “What?! I paid $50 for him!”
He said, “Hey, once you took him off the farm he began depreciating….”
I yelled, “What?! Fine! I’ll take the $15, Old MacCheater!” Note to self: only call people names AFTER you get the cash in hand.
If you actually wanted to attend the AVN awards--and gee, who didn’t?--check out the G4 site tonight at 7p.m. They’re having a “red carpet” special. No pun intended, I’m sure, but I find that hilarious since most porn chicks don't even have carpets.
Well, my Rio is all packed, so I’m shoving off. Yes, I remembered Male Offspring #8. And his double espresso. Bye, ya'll!