Our Dog Is Fat City
We got a new doorbell this week. Our old one just made this awful buzzing noise, and frequently we didn't know anyone was ringing! Also, it was REALLY old, and hanging out of the wall by the knob-and-tube wiring that was left.
The new one is awesome. It's white, covered, and safely wired. Not to mention it makes this great *ding-dong!* noise, like it's happy to see whoever has arrived.
A side effect of the new doorbell is that our dog does not know it is the doorbell. Now when people ring it, he just keeps on doing whatever he was doing before. It's hilarious! I wonder how long it will take him to catch on.
Also, this week, he was annoying when we came home, and Darryl said, "Go in your cage!" and he did. And he stayed there. And 45 minutes later we heard whining in the basement. Where he was still. in. his. cage. Because, apparently, we didn't tell him to come out.
That's all the dog stories I have today. Now onto the title. My Dad says the phrase "fat city." Like, if you're just running out for milk or something, and you have a $20. Then you're fat city. Flush. You know. I suspect everyone who reads this blog has a parent who uses that term.
Well, about a week ago -I- said it. Really, I'm sure this wasn't the first time. But Darryl looked at me in much the same way I'm sure I looked at him when he said squoze. Anyway, I was really teased for a few days afterward, but today I was REDEEMED! Today, some guy Darryl works with said if Darryl had a few more of some computer part, he would be FAT CITY.
So. Try and work this term into conversation, and see if anyone notices. Best story, posted here, gets the prize from the last contest.
