Random Esquire

1. The Supreme Court has agreed to hear Anna Nicole Smith’s case (involving the estate of her late husband). Grant it, the issue is rather boring but who cares? I suppose I’d be more concerned if William Rehnquist were still alive. Anna might try to marry him.

2. There’s a black family on The Amazing Race. Their last name is Black. They are the Black family. Well, now. That’s easy, isn’t it? The show could have gone that extra mile and made sure the other families were as descriptively named. Of course, all of the other families are white so that isn’t helpful. The Fighting Family. The Praise-Jesus Family. The Pink Family. The One-Guy-Is-a-Prick Family.

3. Boss is not happy with me.

Frown.

This goofy looking guy gets to be Harvard Symbologist Robert Langdon in The Da Vinci Code?

1. I don’t quite understand my co-worker. I asked him today if he’d rather have his nuts or his penis cut off. He hesitated. I almost yelled at him. What’s there to think about? I said, “What are you even thinking about? Where are you planning on poking your nuts? Penis or nuts?” He said, “Maybe one nut.” I said, “That’s not a choice. Penis or nuts. Besides, why would you want just one nut?” He said, “Well, it’d just look so funny with no nuts.” I said, “Like it wouldn’t be funny looking with some nuts and no penis?” He said, yes, okay, he’d get his nuts cut off.

This is my co-worker who wants to have a baby. Maybe that’s why he wants a reserve nut. All dressed up and no place to go, if you ask me.

2. I noticed, when I asked my administrative assistant for some hanging file folders, that she was wearing plastic baggies on her feet inside her shoes. I wish I could say that this was the most unusual thing about her. However, her habit of keeping (and carrying around) a spare pair of underwear in a recycled prepared salad bag has earned her the nickname Fresh Express. So, you see, the plastic baggies really didn’t phase me that much.

That was my day.

Boss came home to me installing our new TiVo today. I felt like the only kid in the gang who hadn’t tried television crack. People who have TiVo refer to normal television as “Live TV.” And they say things like, “I can’t even imagine watcing Live TV anymore. I mean, those commercials!”

I admit. I’m excited. But I hate that, because we have satellite, we can’t watch one show and record at the same time. What the hell is that about? I almost popped my f-word cherry when I found that out. Tsk. How the hell am I supposed to be recording Survivor while Boss watches The O.C.? It may be time to get another satellite box for the other television.

I’m still excited. I feel dirty.

I went to Petsmart yesterday and while browsing at the various supplements normal people buy for their normal pets, I found something called Deter, Coprophagia Treatment. As I have most recently become aware that our home is guarded by a fecalphiliac, this product seemed right in line with our needs. I debated. 60 count or 120 count? I went with the 120. Picked up grooming brush, went to check out. As I put things on the counter, the cashier grabbed the box of Deter and said, “Ohhh, you’ve got a bad one, huh?”  That’s right. She just announced to the store that Little Filthy indulges himself with his own leftovers. I paused and said, “Yeah…he’s…something else…” What was I supposed to say? Why, yes, my dog eats his own feces. I had vague recollections of my parents reminding me of their embarrassment when my kindergarten teacher told them that I didn’t know my address and did they care that I did not know where I lived?

Came home. Offered a pill to the monster and he ate it without question. Fool. No more Little Debbie Fecalcakes for you.

This brings me to my next issue with the monster. We have an unusually short coffee table. I don’t know why. I don’t ask why because I’m not in charge of the interior design of the loft. Boss does that. I had left the room for a short while and returned to watch The Deadliest Catch. (Have you seen this show? All about Crab fishing in Alaska. It’s good for my desk-ridden soul). I picked up my coffee mug from the coffee table and took a sip. Little Filthy jumped up on my lap and licked my face. His lick smelled. Like coffee. Combine this observation with my trip to Petsmart.

Not so cute now, is he?

Little Filthy just required his own relief effort which involved me holding up his backside while Boss removed a LittleFilthyBrand Biscuit that was hanging off (or is that out?) by a hair. Literally. What does this dog do when we aren’t watching?