It's pretty quiet here in Philadelphia - still lots of snow on the ground in my parks, not many people or dogs to sniff.
But there are other creatures lurking in the night. Creatures that must be tamed!
Yes, this is one such creature. Colloquially referred to as a "snowman", I do not trust him for one minute. Those beady eyes, scrawny arms, and sad attempt at some sort of breathing device, he's nothing like any man I've ever seen.
Of course he's still mine, of course. Gotta mark the territory.
And check around to make sure that no one will try to move in on my said territory. I get to pee on him, but no one else does. Understand?
I shall return, oh "snowman", to further share my wisdom (that is, to pee on you).
Uh oh. Mama is cooking again. That can only mean one thing.
This was an innocent frozen pizza until mama got to it. Now it's a, well, it's just a burned hockey puck that even I won't touch. Practice makes perfect? (Well, maybe eventually).
Love,
Bogart
