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Well it’s still Thursday night here.
Sorry for the delay, we had very late lunch and then went to see the baseball men downtown. That baseball thing did not end well. We could have left early but we have a family rule that states you must stay for the whole game no matter what the score. This goes back to old family story about the first night I was tasked with taking care of baby L&T Casey when mrs tbogg went back to work. I took the lil L&T with me to a Padres game against the Dodgers which ended up going about 16 innings. Since this was in pre-cell phone days I couldn’t and didn’t call to explain why we weren’t yet home. I mean Casey was enjoying it, I was enjoying it… hey, y’know, baseball. Needless to say when we rolled in after midnight mrs tbogg was frantic, assuming that I had, oh I don’t know, lost the baby or traded her for magic beans or something and that I was too embarrassed to come home.
But neither of those things happened thankyewverymuch and just shut up. So anyway I wanted to leave around the seventh inning tonight (because I CARE ABOUT YOU PEOPLE) but Casey said no, so blame her.
Oh right, the dogs. Who were frantic because we were so late…
Fenway the poser and Beckham the, well, just Beckham being Beckham.
Yes they are the same breed.
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I waited up for you to get home. I hope you’re happy. We’ll talk about this in the morning, young man.
Cute doggies. Yes they are.
Beckham: What are you lookin’ at? (grrr)
So then, you did NOT trade her for magic beans, huh? she must have been out of diapers and sleeping through the night by that time, I guess.
Beckham and I have something in common. As the years roll by, I find myself wearing that very same look, more and more.
Life is shit, and then you die. Right Beckham?
Fenway is every bit as electable as Fred Thompson.
Beckham, the Attack Basset.
Beckham’s always ready to rumble.
Did anyone else besides me think that Beckham’s tail was something else?
Beckham thinks it is. How else do you explain the “you want a piece of THIS?!?” look?
The same breed, but clearly not the same strain.
My dad used to get Irish Setters for hunting. The last dog he got, he asked the breeder to make sure the dog was from a hunting dog strain, not a show dog strain, and the breeder assured him THIS was a hunting dog.
What did we end up with? Derek Zoolander in red fur.
Rock-IES!!
I’ve left a game early just twice in my life. Once, a friend- who was later diagnosed as having a herniated disk- couldn’t stand the pain of sitting upright and we had to leave (the wuss). The second time was in the bottom of the 9th of a no hitter thrown against the Giants by Jerry Reuess (sic) of the Dodgers, the one team I’ve despised all my life. After the first out, I turned to another friend and said, “I don’t to want to see this [done against the Giants]”. He agreed, so we split, and listened to the final out on a radio. I sort of regret that decision now. But just sort of.
Fenway is beautiful and cute and up to no good but who cares because he’s cuuuuuuuuute. I can see the plotting in his eyes. Or maybe it’s vacancy. It’s hard to tell with bassets.
Beckham’s ears have taken a dip into…drool, leaves, and food, is my guess. Possibly Fenway’s mouth. Look at those pancake paws. Pawcakes. And knubbly knees. Cutest little legs in the world.
When I read about some giant squid washing up on a beach near San Diego, my automatic first thoughts were: Were the squid on the beach nearest Tbogg’s place? Did Teh Boyz go and roll in the squid leavings? Did they try to drag a decomposing squid home with them, so they could take it to the Tbogg marital-plus-bassets bed?
I too was disturbed to get home from work (at 11 pm, I work evenings) and not find any bassets. However, I understand the importance of baseball, so all is forgiven. I’m quite willing to leave a game early, however; I typically do this when (1) the score is lopsided or (2) my team is losing and looks unlikely to rally. Haven’t ever gotten burned, either. One time during the final game of the Mariners-Yankees playoffs in 1995 the M’s fell behind in extra innings and my husband wanted to leave, but I persuaded him to stay. Thus, we were still there when Edgar doubled home Jr with the winning run. My husband thanked me profusely afterward.
I want to nom nom nom them both.
What, they didn’t have pay phones at the Padres’ stadium? Jeez.
Fenway was obviously (intelligently) designed for a life of crime: he can do all the stuff Beckham’s so obviously wants to do, and look angelic before, during, and after.
If you’re ever worried about being able to retire, send Fenway off to rob some banks, or roll some healthcare lobbyists.
…healthcare *industry* lobbyists, that is.