They say a dog’s nose inhales information the way people read. So when I see Moon sniffing, I figure he’s perusing the books of other dogs.
I’m doing a scientific study in my apartment, tracking the lifecycle of a dust bunny, trying to understand how they reproduce so quickly.
I should have chum controls on my browser with a pop-up box that warns, “Don’t You Have Something Better To Do?”
It doesn’t seem fair that the only fat that disappears with age is the fat no one could see in the first place.
I often hold points of view like race horses waiting at the gate to gallop forth from my mouth.
She was a high class dame, out of reach for a guy like him; a mixed up redhead, part lover, part killer, all diva. And she was smart, so smart sometimes he was afraid of her.