Honey the dog. I have a yellow lab, Honey the Dog. I have to call her Honey the Dog because for the longest time I would talk about Honey to other co-workers and they thought she was a “he” in the form of my boyfriend.
“After dinner last night, Honey and I went on a long walk because we ate so much. Yeah, we just sat at home and watched 21 Jump Street. Honey totally fell asleep in my lap and I was dozing off and wanted to get up and go to bed but I couldn’t help that sleepy face.”
“Ugh, Honey had the worst gas last night. It kept me up all night. But I was just too lazy to push Honey out of the bed this time.”
“Oh gosh, the Jacksons came over for dinner last night. It was so fun, Sharon made this amazing broccoli salad. Ah, it was to die for. But Honey kept licking them, it was so funny. They’re such nice folks.”
“Hey, I’m running a few minutes late to work… Yeah, I’ll be in a few. I’m going to take Honey to day camp today to let out some anger. I woke up this morning and Honey ate right through the center of my bra. So now I’m just two cups, no bra. HAHA!”
So to all six of you out there reading this blog, you’re part of the inside club. But let’s not spoil the fun for all those outsiders. Let’s give them something to talk about.