April Winchell

Folding in the New Year

Well, it's the last day of the year. And you know what that means.

Laundry.

Yes, once a year I wash whatever's in my hamper, whether it needs it or not.

So I'm doing a lot of that today, and I'm using my new Flip Fold, which is about the best Christmas present I ever got.

Seriously. You have never seen such professionally folded T-shirts. I could get a job at the Gap. And I may have to.

It just feels so good and clean, and damn it, so do I.

So many lovely things have been happening this holiday season, not the least of which is the new reality series coming up on Bravo. A behind the scenes look at the people who work at the Cirque de Soleil. How about that, huh? Just when you think they can't squeeze out one more turd from the entertainment colon, plop, there it is.

I can hardly wait to see what the spinning girl does after work. Do you think she's banging the dog boy? Because I'd pay to see some of that action. I'm just saying.

Rose Bouquet

I have seen a lot of strange behavior in this house, but never anything as odd as what I woke up to yesterday.

I was roused from my sleep by the tippy-tappy sounds of my dog Rosie's toenails on the hard wood floor. It was about 4:00 AM, and she was trotting around the house for no apparent reason.

This happens every once in a while. I think it's a blood sugar thing. Both of my dogs get this sudden burst of energy and run around the house (I call this the "Rips"). Usually they'll do this for a few minutes, then they'll forget what they were doing and go lick their asses on the couch for an hour.

So I figured this is what was going on, though it seemed very early for the Rips. After a few minutes I heard her run into the bathroom and start rooting around under the sink.

At this point Woody woke up, and when he wakes up, he immediatey has to take a crap. I mean instantly. He wakes up in a panic; eyes darting, salivating, running circuits around the house until you let him out. So between him and Rosie, it was obvious the sleep portion of the program was over.

I went to the back door to let Woody out, and as I stood there waiting for him, I caught the unmistakable odor of a fresh dog crap in the kitchen. I turned my head, and there, glistening in the moonlight, was a huge pile of wet dog shit in her dog bed.

It's unusual for a dog to shit where they sleep, but she's an unusual girl. Bleary eyed and extremely annoyed, I picked up the bed and walked to the bathroom,figuring I could just pick up the turds with toilet paper and flush them down the toilet.

I walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light, where my eyes beheld an awesome sight.

There, on the bathroom scale under the sink, was another huge wet pile of dog shit.

What the hell? Why in God's name would a dog take a shit on a scale?

I starting sponging everything down, cursing my life and muttering to myself. Eventually Mick woke up and came in to see what was going on. I told him the dog had taken a shit on the bathroom scale. There was a long pause.

Then he said, "How much did it weigh?"