A Doggone Good Time

When friends traveled into LA from Chicago, D.C., and San Diego this past weekend, it was cause for a party. Though I've been reluctant to drink much lately, I decided the occasion called for the cheapest rum money can buy.

In spite of the presence of many esteemed guests, the party was really all about Otto. Otto is Melinda's dog and he always makes his presence known. If Otto had one fault, it would be that he "loves too much." Seriously, the pup is unflaggingly affectionate. Otto lives to lick and hug, but he's so big and aggressive that it can be problematic, even though he means well, kind of like Lennie from Of Mice and Men.

Nevertheless, Otto is adogable, so I took several photos of him. Here he is hanging with the gang.

Here is he getting frisky with Allison.

And here he is getting really frisky with Adam.

After, Melinda started screening some television series, but I couldn't focus on it enough to follow, so instead I put myself in Otto's cage. I latched it shut, then being an idiot, couldn't manage to open it again. I moped until Allison came to my rescue.

Once I was freed, some people wanted to make a trip to the taco stand. I agreed, but felt that my referee shirt was not nearly fashionable enough for such an excursion and demanded a hat. Fortunately, Allison obliged and constructed me a hat out of tinfoil. I look ravishing if I do say so myself. (I realize that I do say so myself.) Some people gave me funny looks, but I suspect they were just angry that they were unable to read my mind.

The fun crept to an end at 4:15 in the morning. As everyone else found a couch or floor to crash on, I thought it would be a good idea to walk the three miles home. In retrospect, that might have been a little dangerous, but I had a fun-filled walk back. First, I stopped to pee behind a wall, only to realize I was only ten feet from a homeless person, who I woke up. Then, when I was at the last stretch of my route, the downhill portion, I spotted a shopping cart and decided to ride it down. When I tell this story, people picture me getting inside the cart to ride, but if that were the case, I would have never made it home alive. Instead, I stood on the back bar and let gravity and acceleration do their things as I coasted down a car-less street. I never would have guessed a trip home could be so amusing. I'm glad I trusted my gut on that one... a gut full of cheap rum.