That’s MY Sweety.

He was playing cornhole. (Heh, I can’t say that phrase without snickering.)
He’d been drinking beer for around 7 hours.

It was an interesting night.

But I had to share this with you.

The scene:

Lightweight drinker Sweety has had 4-5 Woodchuck ciders and is feeling rather buzzed. He starts playing with Oliver and gets too rough. Oliver gets freaked out and I tell Sweety he needs to be nice to Oliver to make up for it. Oliver commences to licking Sweety’s face thoroughly. Sweety wants to move away but I tell him that he has to take it to make up for freaking Oliver out. After about 4 minutes of watching, it occurred to me that I could video it. Ta-Dah!

I’m sorry for the disgustingness at the end. I had no idea he was going to do that. Yes, Oliver ate it.

We went to the VFW last night after I got off of work to meet a friend. When I suggested the outing to Sweety a few weeks ago he was not very excited.

A little backstory – the friend I wanted to go meet is someone I met because she briefly dated someone who Sweety bowled with. She and I only met in person once and then became better acquainted through Facebook and Twitter. When I told Sweety who I wanted to meet, his first reaction was, “Geez…why can’t you find friends that won’t be awkward? She dated So-and-So. You’re weird.” I reminded him that he had asked me just a few days before why couldn’t I make more “real life friends” after making plans to meet an “online friend” and that if it made him feel any better that he could pretend that I met her online. (no, we aren’t delusional, are we?)

I promised him that if he had a complete craptastic time that I would never ask him to go again. I told him to use our safeword of “appaloosa” if he felt that we needed to flee the scene.

I am a longtime fan of VFWs. As far as I’m concerned – they have the best suppers and you can’t beat bingo there. Last night I discovered that you also can’t beat the incredibly cheap drinks. And the old more life experienced folks. I love them. Really. On Friday and Saturday nights they have karaoke and dollar beer (and $3 well drinks! woot!). I do not sing. Ever. (I sang “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” to my niece when she was 4 and she asked me to please stop.) But I do love to drink and watch people butcher songs. In a trainwrecky sort of way.

Surprisingly, most everybody that sang was good. Maybe I danced a little in my chair. Such a tiny bit that you would think I was just spasming a small bit. Nothing rhythmic. And I was really excited to see my friend. So excited that when there was a break in the karaoke so some announcements about upcoming VFW events could be made that I paid no attention and did. not. shut. up.

We were sitting at the table closest to the stage. As the announcer was announcing I was talking loudly (because we were sitting next to the music speakers) so my friend could hear me. It did not occur to my mildly beer-addled mind that everyone else could hear me too. Until the man with the microphone shushed me. The elderly gentleman sitting at the far end of our table shushed me then as well.

And that’s when you all felt the heat wave.

Not me.

Not the boys either because they aren’t here.

Not Tiny Dog because she’s smarter than to get on the business end of Oliver’s beak.

That would be Sweety. Slightly drunk, thought it would be a good idea to fool with Oliver’s toy with his foot, Sweety. Way to go, Sweety.

We have learned that Oliver is a perfect dog.

As a dog, he will bite the living shit out of you if you aren’t careful and have him whipped into a frenzy about his toy. He got ahold of BB a few weeks ago on the hand. I thought BB was going to faint. It was a nice deep three-tooth puncture that drug all the way to the edge of his hand where he yanked it away from Oliver.

Basically, Oliver thinks he’s grabbing his toy to run off or wrestle you for it and he accidentally grabs you instead.

Sweety’s got two, quarter inch deep holes in his foot now.

Oliver is not in trouble in any way. He was just doing what dogs do.

If I can remember the backstory to the little conversation snippets, I’ll write them in bold. (my words are in italics)

You would really rather eat your own eyeball than feel guilt again?

Yes.

You obviously have too much guilt in your life.

I’m taking care of shit.

***

I’m going to boil you and eat you alive before the tsunami kills us all.
I never go to the beach. The one time I make plans to it storms like a motherfucker. I told Bekah that it would be our luck that a tsunami was going to hit too. I was going to eat her to save her the horror of drowning.

***

See and you can’t die with your shirt all fucked up so leave that shit on backwards and live tonight.
Bekah got a stomach bug and realized after a bathroom run that her shirt was on backwards. I decided that you don’t get to die if your clothes aren’t on right. I didn’t want her to fix her shirt because then she might die.

***

But that’d cost a dollar to get there.

You wouldn’t pay a dollar to give her a proper burial at sea?

I’m not sure that tossing her dead body into the waves is a proper burial at sea.

Oh.
A discussion after we thought a hedgehog was dead. Even though it wasn’t, we played the “what if she had died” game.

***

So what? You’ll still be alive. Shit washes, death doesn’t.
I say it’s better to shit yourself while you’re sick than to flat die from it.

You have to be a special kind of creature to spend more than 15 minutes with me.