Perched on high high heels, momma ponders why JD has to lift his leg so high. Hm. The irony of it all. Why does she need the high heels?
Momma gets upset that I rub duck poop all over myself, but she sees her own scent spraying and lotion ritual to be acceptable. Again, the irony of it all. Why does she need to smell like that?
The same woman who is fiercely protective of us, ponders why it is that JD acts like a little despot around bigger dogs. He is protecting us. Again... the irony of it all. What does momma think she is doing when she goes postal when people offer her money to buy us?
The fact that she schmears lipstick on and then kisses us is totally acceptable. The fact that I like to schmear mud on my face and kiss her... is NOT. Again... the irony just kills me. What makes her lipstick better than my God given mud?
What makes her ginger breath more acceptable than my tuna breath? She won't come near me when I have tuna breath, but she thinks nothing of kissing me after eating pickled ginger. Do you see a pattern? Do you get the irony?
The woman who has a habit of stashing half eaten plates of food, gets upset when she finds our "stashes" tucked neatly into the couches. She wonder why we need to "stash"... Hm. We would use the fridge but it is full of her leftovers!
Can you say "irony"?
Momma talks on the phone for hours, but if any one of us answers the distant bark of another 4 legged, she gives us the look. So, I guess her talking back is OK, ours is not...
Here is the ultimate irony. Momma constantly complains that we have too many toys. Take a guess. Who do you think bought most of them? Yes- momma.
I rest my case- the way I see it... momma is the one with all the issues.
k, I do lover her, so I put up and shut up...for now