Fiona the English Bulldog and Daddy McVodka

I am going to be dogsitting an English bulldog named Fiona. She has a backyard and shit. She goes crazy when you walk in the room, like licking you with slobber, and her body is like a heavy, but little shaped couch throw pillow. They said sometimes bile starts pouring out of her, but only once in awhile.

Story Number Two
Once upon a time, a lad named Jake acted as if he was going to a birthday celebration in New York City. He wanted to go. He thought he should go. There are many things we think we should do, he said to himself, and hung his head low. But it only seemed the right thing to do.

A friend of his, a very small friend, called him and said she was all alone. She was all alone in a castle, and did he want to come?

Naturally, Jake replied, with a heavy head, that there were "things he should do." Of course, coming to the castle became just another one of those things.

And so, in the understated plane some people exist in, Jake came to her rescue and brought something magic that could make Xenia laugh. Xenia was the name of the small friend. Xenia was the small friend who laughed so hard she fell asleep. And when she woke up, Jake was gone, and this was all that was left: (see next blooog)

Also, my dad pointed to a long skinny bottle of vodka, looked at me, and said:
I love tequila.