Promises Made

"If I had a million dollars,
I'd buy you furniture for your house
(maybe a nice Chesterfield or an Ottoman).
--Barenaked Ladies

Hi, everybody. The "new" sofa, here. That addle-brained, fat ass told you he would put my picture up here, but he never did. What a loser. I had to do it myself. This is me in the living room. I really brighten the place up a lot more than that raggedy, dog-smelling, burlap brown one that used to be in here. That one had to go. I kicked him to the curb. His little love seat buddy, too. They're both gone. The poor dog. Now he's stuck laying his muddy paws and stinking, hairy belly on his doggy beds on the floor. Sucks to be him.

I came here to this house by way of Eugene, OR. I spent a year out there with the Monkey. It was great, but that house was kind of cold. Come to think of it, this house is kind of cold, too, but at least here I have two butts to keep me warm instead of one. The trip from the West Coast to Central Standard was a rough one, however.

They wrapped me up in a plastic bag (which made it kind of hard to breathe), and then they made me stand on my head for a week while some yahoos drove me to Salt Lake City and Denver and who knows where else. The middle of the summer is no time to spend locked up in the back of a moving truck with no air conditioning or fan. What stale air I couldn't breathe.

When I arrived, they unwrapped me (last) and let me get my bearings in my new surroundings. It was a pleasant, yet disorienting, time. Everything is so different here. Television shows start at different times, there's thunder and lightning, tornadoes, armadillos. It is truly a Wonderland. Or is it Oz? I don't know. I have yet to see any flying monkeys or horses of a different color.

At any rate, this is me. Love me or hate me, I was only 60 bucks. I am not going anywhere any time soon. C-I-A-B-A-T-T-A. Ciabatta. Peace out!