http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ Go to this blog. Oh my goodness I have not laughed so hard in ages. It has been seriously helping me de-angst myself, because you can't feel sorry for yourself while you're hurting your face and scaring your dog because of how hard you're laughing.
The fluffy white dog is giving me a look from the other side of my apartment, in her bed where she sleeps, and it is an utterly confused and disturbed face. She has no idea why The Boss keeps squeaking and snurfling and making strange sounds. Eventually she gets used to the noises and she goes to sleep but I suspect that in her fluffy doggy head she knew she would have her inevitable revenge.
Cut-scene to about an hour later.
Me, still snickering quietly over Hyperbole and a Half. Her, my floofy roommate, innocently curled on her furniture-moving-pad bed in the corner of the Main room...
( I should say at this point that my apartment is small. It has five rooms. Four, technically. A kitchen nook that is part of a huge Main room, which I have tried to use my furniture to break up into a dining area, a reading area and a couch and movie area- A bedroom- A teeny tiny bathroom- and the Studio. That's it. I can see the dog's bed in the Main room from my own bed if my bedroom door is open, as it usually is, since the dog doesn't care if she sees me in just a t-shirt and scottish-plaid panties.)
So I'm in bed doing some reading and suddenly there's this horrible smell. A smell wafting around my rooms, a smell no human could produce. And I squint through the dark and Miss Floof is curled innocently in her bed, eyes shut, paws twitching in semi-concious glee at the discomfort she might be aware she's causing me. If anyone ever tells you dogs cannot fart, smack them for me.
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