It is about time

I figured it was time. I have not written in this blog since October of LAST year. That's too long. So many things have happened since then. I am just no sure where to start.

I could discuss the wonders of communal living and how my apartment complex is as worthless as a bag of dicks at a frat house. I have an English Bulldog that is as fascinated with apartment living as I am. But I am responsible and clean up after him because, well, it is the responsible thing to do. Love, honor, cherish, and pick up your bulldog's dung. I do that, yet I received a notice on my door that indicated otherwise. Continued violations of the pet policy will be met with strict punishment.

Really?

What would that be exactly? Flogging in the courtyard? Drawn and quartered? I wish I had a copy of the manual this letter was pulled from. I was innocent but was given the guilty notice. I felt like Barry Bonds. I have a pretty good idea who told the office manager since I make friends around this complex like Marilyn Manson does at summer camp. The older I get, the less I have in common with those that want to drink all night and discuss sexual prowess at a high decibel level, and then piss in the parking lot below my window. I may be immature, but I am old now. Too old to tolerate the behavior of some people. This is my blog, my story and I am entitled to be holier than thou, OK?

My dogs craps mini-coopers. His crap cannot be mistaken by that of lesser creatures. He doesn't even crap by my apartment. It takes him a few minutes to wake up. Like clockwork, I am taking an Albertson's bag with me for the main event. He does his doo, I do my doo-picky, and then up for breakfast. It just so happens that the manager's girlfriend owns a yorkie I would love to drop kick to next week. She overheard me telling someone how much I hate yip yip dogs who have little purpose in this world other than making my ears bleed. So her idea of payback is hanging a notice on my door statng I have violated Fluffy's psyche and please stop before there is an inervention for Fluffy's crank habit. I am thinking the next doo bag I have to dispose of just may be going through her open car window. Maybe.....I don't know. I haven't decided how to fit a mini-cooper into a Toyota Corrolla.

Any ideas?