Hi everybody. Welcome to the blog where I talk about my past.
It’s fun. My friend here goes through my collection of journals and just pulls one out at random. Above is the following story:
I used to love wind surfing. You might say I was a bit obsessed with it. Well, my friend was leaving town and he said would you look after my dog, King. I said, sure, no problem. I loved King. He was a cool dog. Anyway, I borrowed my friend’s pick up truck and took King to where I used to go wind surfing. King would just stand in the water and bark and bark and bark and bark. All day long. Hey, he was a good reference marker to jibe around. Kind of like a buoy in competition windsurfing. Anyway, I guess King drank a lot of water. Well, after a day of windsurfing, we all went out to lunch at a local clam bar. All the tables were outside. It was a beautiful evening. King was restless in the truck so I tied him up to our table. Well…King started shaking. His back arched like the Sydney harbor bridge and his tail went straight up in the air. I thought, this can’t be good. And, sure enough, as if on cue, he released a day’s worth of saltwater and waste onto the table next to me. The table was full of kids having a birthday. The father at that table was not impressed. He was downright angry. Now, I love this part because I’ve always wanted to say this. The guy yelled at me. He said, “Your dog just shit all over my children.” I replied, “That’s not my dog.”
Love, B. Nice
