Just to let everyone know, I sent out my part of the Goulash Mix CD Challenge today. I did not get to pick the stamps, though, so don't start thinking I'm some Edna Ferber fanatic. Just because your envelope will contain an Edna Ferber stamp, you don't need to send me any Ferber shirts, aprons, or collectible figurines. Just like everyone else, I enjoy a little Ferber now and then, but they shang-haied me at the post office before I could get to the Tasmanian Devil stamps. You get my last resort, that's all I'm saying.
Last night, I had a weird dream about a pet murder and the detective who was assigned to the case. I have no idea if pet murders are actually investigated and I hate it when people share their dreams, but this little anecdote actually has a point. At the very end of the dream, the salty old detective stood up, assayed the crime scene, and announced, "Yup, this was a definite dogicide."
I woke up right afterwards, and I've had dogicide on the brain ever since. It's such a good word that I can't help myself from using it. I used it on the dog a few times this morning when trying to get her to shut up, and it's all been downhill after that. This afternoon alone, I threatened to commit dogicide on the printer and the air conditioner, and I've been dogicided once myself by a traffic light. Is there a point to this? No. Is there ever a point to dogicide, though? That's a question for the pet detectives.Posted by Cody at August 3, 2005 6:27 PM