I have some friends I’d very much like to introduce you to. They’ve been waiting more than a year to meet you and they’ve put on their very finest display to prepare for the honor. It’s my very great pleasure to introduce you to the Punk Rock Daffodils, all grown up:
Aren’t they just the dandiest? They’re so tall and proud, so bright and defiantly cheerful. You can see they opted against piercings and tattoos because, as any real punk knows, punk is all about what’s inside, friends.
I tried to get Doc interested in the daffodils, but he couldn’t have cared less…
You see, before his recent bone devouring incident, he grew rather enraptured of Voltaire. That didn’t last long, and now after his near-death experience he’s on a rather pious kick. He, quite frankly, doesn’t understand why anyone would want to live a life of rebellion and has resorted to calling his body a temple and requesting tofu.
We do not do tofu in this household, and refuse to feed the dog food that costs more than the food we eat, so we’ve politely declined his requests. He’s sulking but I think he’ll make it.
In other news, Wes is thinking about going back to school, our accountant is asking for our firstborn child as payment for filing our taxes, our home loan is still not modified, we’re trying to figure out how a baby fits into this mess, and my car needs an oil change.
So, you know, not much going on that’s worth talking about really…