Timmy went and played ultimate frisbee last night at the park, and when he returned he related two amusing stories to me. The first was how he managed to clock his best friend's wife in the mouth. Accidentally, he says. Resulting in a fat lip for her and a cut knuckle for him. The second story was a delightful account of the antics of a dachshund that was also frolicking at the park. This of course, led to reminiscing of my late wonder-weenie Mitchell and how Timmy is now sold on acquiring a dachshund at some point in the future. Serendipitously, this evening, while reading the Huffington Post online, I happened across the following video:
I thoroughly enjoyed the article and video, although to be honest, it gives me great concern about the state and future of journalism. Economy and wars be damned- lets watch weenies! And so, to oh-so-appropriately quote Frank N. Furter from The Rocky Horror Picure Show: "One from the vaults!":
And just one more that also tickles me:
What is it about dachshunds that make them so inherently entertaining? Word play on the last two aside, would they have been nearly as funny if they had involved a labradoodle? I think not.
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