Abby: Grumpiest Dog in the World
When it was suggested I start a blog, I was like, “Sure. That’ll be fun.” But it’s not. Not really, at least. I spend more time fucking around with the back-end and calling my brother for tech help than I do, you know, writing stuff. And when I finally clear off a few minutes and decide to write something, I blank out and fall back on talking about Abby, because she is awesome. See? Here’s another picture of her shot a few minutes ago. She’s the grumpiest dog in the world. (Also, is there a higher use for thousands of dollars in camera equipment than the frequent shooting of one’s dog doing dog things like napping and looking adorable? I don’t think there is.)
I was going to do a fun (ha! fun!) photo-heavy tutorial on how to make a decent martini, because most people don’t know how to do that. This is true, because I’ve had many martinis at bars and at people’s houses, and very few are any good. Great idea, I thought. But then I discovered I was out of lemon, so couldn’t proceed, because I take mine with a twist. (Worry not–I soldier on, twistless, as I type.)
And then I thought, hey, why not talk about books? I read and edit book reviews all day. I read all the time. I write on the weekends. I have a book out. I’m working on another one. Goddamn near every literary novel published in the last three years has crossed my desk. I should have thoughts about books and publishing. I do, but those are not for sharing. I’ll say this, though: I like my Kindle and am sick of hearing about how you just can’t cuddle up with a cold, heartless slab of plastic like you can a good ol’ paperback. Fuck you. Dogs are for cuddling. Books are for reading.
It occurs to me I should say something positive. So: Did you see Rooney’s hat trick last weekend? That was fucking awesome.
This was fun and all, but my drink needs refreshing. Priorities.