|That's me, under the elephant.|
A little background here. I live with my girlfriend in a suburb of Boston with our dog and cat. The dog's a little fella and the cat is an orange furball of fury. He's great. (Editor's Note: False - that cat's a regular asshole. And I love cats.)
Anyway, our dryer went on the fritz the other day. It's a real pain in the ass walking down to the basement to throw clothes into a dryer that doesn't work. So instead of forking out the cash for a new one, we called a repair man. Had I known the turmoil this guy's visit would cause, I woulda Kramer'd my clothes and put them in the oven.
Here's how his visit went down. Bear in mind, this all occurred in the span of about twenty minutes.
1. Guy shows up, hits the garage next door.
2. I let him in.
3. Unbeknownst to me, he doesn't close the front doors.
4. Unbeknownst to me, he goes out the back door, leaves that open as well.
5. Cat escapes.
6. An unknown, blonde huskie-looking dog with a pink collar comes right into our house.
7. Dog fight.
8. Evict stranger dog, whose name according to the tag is Rhonda.
9. I gimp around backyard, looking for cat (I sprained my ankle at the Foo Fighters concert at Fenway Park. No I wasn't drunk. Yes, that's a lie.).
10. Find him in the garage. He's filthy. And scratchy.
11. I pay the guy $120 bucks for this wonderful experience.
12. Swearing. Lots of it. Creative swearing. New swear words.