Sunday, December 14, 2008
Fisticuffs At Yoga.
One of the most popular questions we get from our three fans is, “What does Mutt like to do on the weekends?” Glad to answer that one. This past Friday the little lady and I met Ulysses and his lovely wife for dinner. On paper, that sounds like a pretty good time. But it’s never that easy with Ulysses. On this particular night, the ladies were digging what I was saying. And Ulysses got jealous. Decided he'd had enough, so he ordered up a round of White Russians (knowing I was drinking whiskey) and then played dumb as the cream, vodka and bourbon exploded in my lower duodenum. Not surprisingly, the night ended immediately. And Ulysses played possum the whole way home. But it didn't end there. Cut to this morning at yoga, where I’m trying to sew my tattered organs back together. And five minutes into class, who knocks at the back of my throat but the White Russians and Sour Mash boys, rip roaring mad and hell bent on busting out of my belly. So yeah, that's what Mutt did this weekend.