Waffled on a Wednesday, and Weally Upset At My Dog. For Real

After two twelve hour days, I came home to begin grading and to think about what's to come on Thursday. Around 8, I realized I was hungry and I looked up from my computer to find Glamis licking my ankles. I said, "I fed you an hour ago, why haven't you fed me?"

That's when I realized my dog and I do not have a balanced relationship. She chews socks, chases balls, sleeps all day, goes for walks, and whines when she has to pee. I asked her, "Why don't you make me something to eat for a change?"

She dropped a sock, licked her crotch, and went back to her a sock.

I guessed it was my time to cook again, so I ended up with a pile of waffle fries. That was bachelor-pad easy, but I think I'm on to something.

There needs to be cooking classes for dogs. I'm serious. Dogs should spend their days training to be chefs, BBQ artists, gardeners, and bakers. There's no reason that they should be allowed to lie around all day doing nothing, so that working people come home to feed them. They should learn to cook so that their owners come home to a full meal: vegetables, fruits, salads, meats, and other stuff. Seriously. It would make life so much easier knowing that my dog, Super Glamis, spent her days beyond shedding, passing gas, and lying in the window sill for retirees to admire. I want her to have dinner ready for me. It would make everything so much easier.

But nope. She's a dog. And I must feed myself (which is the first thing to go on extreme days of over commitment).

So, I ate waffle fries - the kind you buy bulk at BJs. They were good, although I ran out of ketchup. All it took was preheating the oven and waiting 25 minutes and I had food.

Fancy eating, I tell you. This is the reality of the world that I live.