Ever since I moved to the new office and job a year ago, Cap - the half-lovable, half-frightening 800 year old courier guy who haunts our offices in search of someone to have barely coherent conversations with - has shied away from bugging me overmuch. Not because I'm twelve times busier, because he has absolutely no capacity to pick up on the
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I wonder if there is some kind of earwax fetish though. Too bad my official fetish list is at home! Heh.
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When my (different) dog was a puppy, he had a bad habit of eating out of the catbox. ICK. We tried everything to keep him out of there but he was sneaky. Then one night we were taking a car ride and he puked in the back seat.
HE PUKED IN MY BACK SEAT. HE PUKED UP HALF-DIGESTED CAT SHIT IN MY BACK SEAT.
It was so horrific that I nearly had a wreck pulling over so fast, and my boyfriend at the time SHOT out of the car and puked all over the side of the road. I had to hold on to MY own cookies for dear life not to toss 'em too. OH MY GOD. I nearly murdered that dog after cleaning THAT up.
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