They Always Blame the Dog

23 02 2014

The list is long-celebrities parading around with their little dogs tucked under their arms. Do they really love these miniature mutts, or do they only carry them to keep their arm warm? I used to think it was simply a fashion statement and that the Hollywoodistas considered toting Toto around was chic. Well, I have learned the real reason why you won’t catch Paris Hilton out in public without Peanut or Chi-Chi or, whatever his name is.untitled

One recent morning, I got in the elevator to go to my office, and as soon as the doors closed behind me, I realized I had a problem. Someone in the elevator just before me had…well, let’s see, how can I say this without appearing unrefined because, after all, I do have a reputation to uphold? Someone had cut the cheese. And this was no ordinary popcorn poot. This thing was nasty. Oh this was bad! The air in the elevator was heavy. I could almost see stink-vapors sliding down the walls and permeating my clothes. I wasn’t sure if I should be angry at the individual for leaving the stink bomb,or if I should kneel down and pray for him because clearly this person had a problem. His day had really gotten off to a bad start. Now, I’m only assuming it was a guy because a guy will eat anything while most women are more particular about what they put in their stomachs. This guy had something really nasty churning around in his belly.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had a real problem, actually two problems. The first was the problem of survival. The elevator was moving so slowly, I wasn’t sure I would be able to hold my breath all the way to the second floor. I nearly panicked when I considered the elevator could get stuck between floors and I would have to sit down and write my wife a goodbye note. My goodness! I’ve ridden elevators to the top of the Empire State Building that took less time. As I was about to run out of air, I buried my face into my jacket and got a quick breath which enabled me to make it the rest of the way. But then I was facing the second problem-what if the doors open on the second floor and one of my co-workers gets into the elevator? I was all alone in that elevator and there was no way I would ever convince anyone that I didn’t do it. I didn’t even have a dog to blame it on. That’s when it hit me. Paris, Britney and Miley don’t give a rat’s butt about those pampered pooches. They were no more than four-legged scapegoats. And that’s why you’ll never see Paris get into an elevator without her dog.

Wasn't me!

Wasn’t me!




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