Yeah, i prefer samwiches, too . . .
Ain't it about lunch time?
not in my part of the world.
I'm ok, now, just ran my daily errands around town, post office, bank, gas station, LUNCH, you know, usual stuff . . .
didja get a manicure too?
No, my mani wasn't sick . . .
What does one get for Christmas for the man who wants nothing but t-shirts and levis? more t-shirts and levis? a day at the spa?
Good grief!
And Bunnies NEVER have to light their own cigarettes! Neither the funny ones neither......and of COURSE we have digits! You people think opposeable thumbs MATTER.
You dogs here REALLY eat your pooh?
We prefer cat dung, it being very high in protein (cat food being very high in protein; input-->output, right), but we will resort to our own for reasons still unknown to humans. Rabbit poop? Dunno. Sounds unclean.
dear sweet goddess in heaven.......to think I once let a dog kiss mee............ waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
I need one of those man-e-cure things........
My puppies prefer horse poop, but like I said, they only carry it around. Unfortunately because THEY don't have opposable thumbs, there's only one place to carry it........
And that's why we keep them OUT of the pasture.
What IS it with dogs and ****? We need a "Just-So Story" about this one.....
"Dearly Beloved, long, long ago before there were any dogs in the wild, wild woods, and the woods and the two humans ached in their souls for the absence of the dogs, but knew not what their souls ached for; there were two formless, fearful, furry forms, furtively lurking in the deepest parts of the woods, their hearts longing for something .... they knew not what.......
(having a good Saturday morning in Oz, love? what music ya got playin'?)
I have no music playing - just sort of a-sitting and a-musing and a-thinking of making some more coffee - what be you a-doing?
A-voiding a-working a-s usu-a-l. Do your two humans really ache for the absence of that-which-is-not-yet?
possibly..... depends where the story leads.......
Over time, the fuzzy forms became dimly aware (for dim they truly were) that the extent to which they were distinct was dependent on their proximity to the humans. When they humans were nearby, the bits of fuzzy mathematical probability on what was most often their undersides would constrict into four furry excresences, two modest flat -- almost two-dimensional, it seemed -- protuberant folds would develop over what they sensed was their anterior region, and a bits of pink nanonothings would coalesce and congeal, dripping, at a point below and roughly equidistant from the two folds.
The humans, over time, became not unaware of the fuzzy could-bes, as well. Only they felt ever so slightly repulsed by them, and, as they would dimly (for they, too, were none-too-bright, even without other nondivine beings to compare them to) sense their presence and move away.
Nonetheless, the fuzzy bits of ether were able, time and again, to gain a degree of nearness to the humans before the pink-naked creatures would edge away into the underbrush. Then, one fine day, they were able to get particularly close to the pink-one-with-external-genitalia as it was straining at his stool, and, caught unaware, the human took fright, leapt up, and ran away, trailing feces. In this sudden brush with the humans, the fuzzy ones became as distinct as they had ever been, the space between the folds wrinkling and spiralling to reveal to glassy bits of nothing which almost resembled they eyes of the humans, their little claw-symbols scratching at the earth.
Now, it was not known to the humans at the time, but when an individual consumes a high fiber diet, their stool contains bits of them, because the indigestible cellulose abrades the walls of the digestive system as it passes through. The fuzzy ones found that they lost some of their distinctiveness as they drifted away from the stool. In a moment of intuition which would forever alter the course of human history, one of the fuzzy ones engulfed a turd. Immediately, the folds became ears, the spirals eyes, the excresences legs, and -- out of the pure joy of creation, of sumthinfrumnuthin (as they say in teh great frosty north of what is now Europe) -- a tail began wagging over the posterior end. She -- for it was a she-fuzz who had the first fateful inkling -- urged the other probability cloud to engulf what remained of the human's droppings, and soon both dog and bitch were in existence.
To this day, racial memory impels them to follow those unwillingly generative humans around, and to occasionally munch on the life-giving shite.
So endeth the lesson.
