Friday, October 21, 2011

My Dog Owes Me Half a Candy Bar

Last night Beloved Spouse bought me a candy bar. He did this for one of three reasons:

a. Because he's totally learned his lesson about me and candy bars.
b. To thank me for refilling my Prozac prescription, albeit about four hours late.
c. Because he's a sweet and thoughtful guy.

OK, so "c" is one of those gimme answers that the cool professors put on the exam to let you know the answer is definitely either "a" or "b." It's not that BelSpouse doesn't have a sweet and thoughtful circuit in his breaker box; it's just that it's not hooked up to anything, and I always go around flipping every damn switch I can find before I remember that.

Effective but not recommended way to directly
 access the sweet and thoughtful circuit.
Be that as it may, BelSpouse bought me a Snickers Peanut Butter Squared. For all his flaws, the man knows what I like.

I had a pretty rough day yesterday. The City of Dallas apparently has been tracking my driving habits and has now torn up every single road I have to drive on to get home from work. Then my awesome Texas Rangers decided the most nerve-wracking way to win Game 2 of the World Series was to not score a single run until the ninth inning. The St. Louis Cardinals helped them in this endeavor by putting up the most amazing defensive performance I've seen since...well, Game 1. When the sum total of your offense is two sacrifice flies, you know you're up against a worthy opponent. If you're not a baseball fan, and the preceding made your brain sad, I'll make it up to you with this amazing picture I found of a cross-section of a Snickers Peanut Butter Squared:

I would have thought this shit was classified.
 On top of these delights, Precocious Daughter decided she just had to download the latest OS for her iPod Touch right now. You know, because everyone else already has it. Only she said it with more italics. And we tried, but we couldn't get the damn thing to download. Apple's dirty little secret is that all its technology literally emanated from Steve Jobs' brain, and now that he's dead none of it will work any more. Unless they get his head in a jar "Futurama"-style, stat. That's my theory.

Shockingly, I couldn't find a picture of Steve Jobs' head
in a jar from a "Futurama" episode. But since Al Gore probably
thinks he invented the iPhone, here's his picture instead.
 Now, the Snickers Peanut Butter Squared bar comes in two pieces. Which is brilliant because the two pieces are significantly smaller than one regular Snickers bar but cost the same. I'm going to have to check, but I think this year's winner of the Nobel Prize for Economics was the candy engineer who came up with this idea.

OK, I checked, and this year's winners actually got it for empirical research on cause and effect in the macroeconomy. So unless that has something to do with tasty nougat, I take it back.

Anyway, I had eaten the first of my two Snickers Peanut Butter Squared, er, squares, when PDaughter declared that the world would end unless I helped her update her interface with the Apple hive of collective consciousness. I pointed to my remaining peanut butter-based polyhedron sitting on the coffee table and said to BelSpouse, "Do not let the dog eat that!" Seven short syllables of Saxon English. And he looked me right in the eye and swore to protect my uneaten candy. Or maybe he just grunted, "OK." Either way, it was a verbal contract.

Long story short (really, this is the short version), the dog ate the other half of my candy bar.

Because obviously it looked exactly a bowl of his kibble.
Ironically, I started to feel much better after this happened. Because that's what happens when your day hits rock freaking bottom. It's a relief to know the worst has happened, the last straw has landed on the camel's  back, the candy bar has been consumed and is not coming back in its current form. That's when you start to realize that for all your bitching, you have two good legs, a roof over your head, and a family that loves you even though they may drive you absolutely batshit crazy from time to time.

And at least the dog didn't eat my Prozac. But he owes me another Snickers Peanut Butter Squared. And if he thinks I'm going to let him off the hook because he's not allowed in stores, he has no idea how irrational his human can get. Although I'm sure BelSpouse would be happy to explain it to him.

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