Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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got that wrong
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Like my brownhouse:
   not enough toys
Monday, March 5 2012
Our new dog Ramona is still deep in her chewing phase, and it's been hard to find enough toys to keep her happy. We'd found some old toys around the house, including an upholstered bagel with a squeaker inside it, but nothing seemed strong enough to withstand such teeth driven by such determination. So Gretchen and I went into Uptown Kingston today to buy more toys, as well as some much-needed non-cheap non-Costco stop-gap dog food. We went to that pet supply place Gretchen likes in hopes of finding super hard chew toys, but the only tough things available there were made of rope. We bought a couple of those, as well as a fabric elephant and a fabric turtle with squeakers inside them.
We'd convoyed to Uptown, and after transferring the dogs to my car, Gretchen headed off to Bard and I went to Hannaford to buy provisions, including a couple tough plastic bones for Ramona.
Back at the house, I began an experiment wherein I replaced one of my usual purchases of cheap hard liquor with a box (5 litres) of cheap white wine. I set up the box out on the laboratory deck where it would stay cold, and kept refilling a tiny glass with it as needed. It made me cheerful and communicative via instant messenger, though I don't think I posted anything especially embarrassing on Facebook under its influence.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?120305

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