Wednesday, April 19, 2006
It's baseball season in the Moore household and we go to practice three times a week. Not that Buddy and I do much more then watch, but hey, everyone needs an entourage from time to time.
The other day Buddy and I are doing the usual walk around the ball field, smelling dead things, peeing on everything in sight (it must be a male thing) generally just goofing off while Kendell works on supporting his momma in her old age.
Anyways, so we're standing by the gate to the ball field when tonight's hastily eaten dinner decides to do gastronomical gymnastics in my poor stomach. Well, I take a look around, see the coast is clear and let the beast loose...so to speak. Unfortunately during my little covert spy glance looking for enemy forces, I just missed one of the coaches and his son coming up from behind. I take a few steps away from the offending breeze and realize, that's just not gonna be good enough...I'm caught...
So...I do what any self respecting dog owner would do, I look at Buddy and say,
"Oh Buddy, ewwwwww."
| posted by Kara at 4/19/2006 08:01:00 AM
dotdotdot had this to say:
You're lucky you have a dog. I once let my boyfriend blame his mum for a foul stench lurking around us in the supermarket! Hi from Michelle's.
- 10:27 AM, April 19, 2006
Deb R had this to say:
Too funny! Gotta love dogs - handy for so many things!
Thanks for stopping by my blog!
- 11:22 AM, April 19, 2006
Kirsten had this to say:
Lmao! My husband always blames it on the dog too...even when the dog is in another room.
- 11:51 AM, April 19, 2006
Amy had this to say:
Poor dog! LOL!
Glad I found your blog, I enjoyed reading it.
- 2:31 PM, April 19, 2006
Tickneen had this to say:
Love it!!! Its almost impossible to get away with!!!
- 4:42 AM, April 21, 2006
Carmi had this to say:
Didn't the Hotel New Hampshire - an awful movie in every respect but one - have a neat recurring joke where the dog (Sorrow was his name, if memory serves) tooted his way through the entire movie?
Hmm, must research this some more.
And as far as the coach and his kid are concerned: find me a guy, any guy, who hasn't let 'er rip just this week and I'll buy that guy a beer. Perfect people like this simply don't exist. We were all made in God's flatulent image.
Damn, I'm going to hell now.
- 8:59 PM, April 21, 2006
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