Monthly Archives: March 2012
Protected: Nothing to see here. If you don’t have the password, this isn’t for you. Move along, yahoos. Love your faces.
Dear Rich People with Excellent Business Sense and Impeccable Taste:
I have a proposition for you. But since I don’t KNOW any rich people in really real life, I have come to the internet. Which is pretty much where I live. The internet. It is my HOME. I’ve made it very pretty. There are throw-rugs and knick-knacks and shit, it’s nice, you’d like it. Anyway, I assume since everyone uses the internet, that includes rich people, right? I mean, Bill Gates is a rich person, and he probably lives on the internet, too. So I can only assume that this will, eventually, find its way to its rightful home: on a screen in front of a very rich person. With excellent business sense. And impeccable taste. Also probably drinking expensive wine from a goblet, and using burning currency to light their fancy cee-gars.
So, very rich person. How are you? So good? I’m sure you are. I mean, how could you not be? You probably have all the things that money can buy, and many also-rich friends, and your clothing is made out of sumptuous fabrics, and I’d guess your refrigerator has an ice dispenser in the door. That’s how you KNOW you’ve made it. If your fridge has an ice dispenser in the door. Extra points if it makes that crushed ice, like in the red plastic glasses at the Pizza Hut. That’s my favorite and the EPITOME of classy. It just makes every beverage taste better, you know?
But, rich person, I can feel that you have an ache. Something’s missing. Something you can’t quite pin down. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but something’s not quite right. There’s something you need to make your life even MORE complete. And you have ALL THAT MONEY. You could totally spend ALL THAT MONEY on whatever-it-is, were you to just figure out WHAT it is.
I know what it is, Rich Person. I KNOW WHAT IT IS.
What you’re missing is the experience of sending a very crazy-eyed and unruly-haired blogger to Europe so she can a., visit two of her favorite people there (potentially more, we’ll come to that in a minute, hang tight), and b., blog about her experiences.
NOW WAIT. I know what you’re thinking! You’re all, I don’t think I’m missing that. OH I BEG TO DIFFER.
Let me explain why this would be a very excellent use of all that money you have that’s just SITTING THERE being WASTED or INVESTED or whatever. I mean, what if you died tomorrow, that would just go to your spoiled-rotten children and your plastic-surgery-obsessed wife (or your blow-dried helmet-haired husband, don’t want to be sexist, I’m happy to accept sponsorship from a LADY.) They don’t need that money. They already HAVE money. They wouldn’t even APPRECIATE it. Wouldn’t sponsoring an impoverished blogger who has trouble affording gas some days who would be SO GOOD AT BLOGGING and have ALL THE ADVENTURES be the best thing you could possibly ever do?
Let me tell you some of the pros of this plan.
- I don’t want to bring anyone with me, therefore you only have to pay for one person’s trip. I don’t have an immediate family, I don’t have any friends that I think would put up with me for an entire trip to Europe and still remain my friend when we got back to the States, and since I’m Forever Alone, I won’t even need to bring a significant other. This will help keep costs down. All of my friends mostly live on the internet, too. They fly FREE.
- I am a very thrifty traveler. For example! I am HAPPY to fly in the cheap seats. I mean, one time, I flew first-class, and I’m not going to say that WASN’T the best experience of my life. THEY GAVE ME A WHOLE BAG OF MINT MILANOS. I know! I actually wasn’t sure they were all for me. I was like, “I should take some, pass them around?” and she was all, “Nope. All for you” and I almost WET MY PANTS WITH EXCITEMENT. But I won’t ask you to spring for the fancy travel experience. I know how to pinch pennies, as I am a very poor person. Hence me coming to you for sponsorship. I would also happily stay at whatever the European version of the Motel 6 is. I mean, I assume there’s such a thing. (Google tells me that in Germany, were there such a thing, I’d be staying at the Motel Sechs and in Finland I’d be staying at the Motel Kuusi. ISN’T THIS ALREADY THE MOST FUN AND EDUCATIONAL??? Also, “Motel Sechs” sounds like a euphemism. I’m not sure I’m comfortable staying in a German euphemism, but I’d do it. I’M GAME.) I’d offer to stay at a hostel because I know those are even cheaper but a., I stayed at those when I went to Europe in college and they were creepstastic and also I was always itchy when I left because I don’t THINK there were bedbugs but I always thought MAYBE there were bedbugs so that made me scratchy, and b., I’ve seen the movie Hostel since and I don’t think I could stay in one now without screaming myself awake every five minutes, and they’d just kick me out anyway. ALSO! I would NOT expect fancy foods or drinks. I could totally survive on water I get from free water fountains and street food. NO, not food I pick up OFF the street. Ew. I don’t want to die of European food poisoning, gross. Street VENDOR food. Like sandwiches and whatnot. I’m really very un-picky. Well, no, I’m PICKY, but not so picky I have to eat gourmet food all the time. And I don’t even need souvenirs! THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY GOOD ON YOUR WALLET.
- For your participation, you would get at least one, if not more, HILARIOUS blog posts EVERY SINGLE DAY. I mean, YOU wouldn’t get them. The INTERNET would. But I’d totally geek out about you. And mention you like a million times. I do that all the time anyway with other people, it’s not like that’s a stretch. I mean, think about this. I have written MULTIPLE blog posts about foreign locales that I am ASSURED are very funny. And I haven’t even VISITED those places. Can you even imagine the potential for awesome hilarity, were I actually IN these places? Also, I’d probably tweet hysterical things. And I wouldn’t even get homesick like I did the first time I was overseas, because what would I get homesick for? WORK? No one WANTS to get back to work. Come on, that’s stupid. You’d really get a lot for your money out of this. You could brag to your friends, and you could follow all my doings, and you could be all, “I DID THIS” and get a total fulfilling sense of pride from it. How awesome would that be? It’s like sponsoring one of those sad-faced children on the late-night TV ads? Only I’d be A LOT MORE EXCITED. And it wouldn’t really be life-or-death. This really isn’t a good analogy. You should also probably sponsor those children, now I feel terrible.
Now, I bet you’re really intrigued. I would be, too, were I a very rich person with money just totally burning a hole in the pockets of my lush silken kimono. “What,” you’re asking, “would you DO in Europe, Amy?”
I WOULD LOVE TO TELL YOU THAT RIGHT NOW.
The plan has TWO PARTS. With an optional THIRD part.
FIRST, I would visit Andreas in Finland.
We have to wait til he MOVES to Finland. So the plan can’t take effect until after that happens. So probably the summer? Let’s say this summer, that’d be nice. Everyone likes the summer. It’s all summery and sunny and I mean, I’d have to bring a lot of sunscreen. Or you’d have to give me extra money for sunscreen. Can you throw in some extra money for sunscreen? Just in case? It might be very expensive in Europe and I burn like a delicate son of a bitch.
In Finland, I would first meet Andreas, and wouldn’t that be the most fun? YES IT WOULD. Then I would meet Andreas’s Fiancee and Andreas’s Baby Girl and Andreas’s pets. Are you aware that Andreas will live on an ISLAND in Finland? I know. That’s pretty stellar right there, I mean, I’d like to visit an island. I’d feel like a pirate. Who doesn’t want to feel like a pirate?
Anyway, Andreas’s whole clan and I will get along like gangbusters. Why would we not? I AM THE MOST FUN. I also am very good with small children, if The Nephew is any indication. He thinks I am HILARIOUS. Plus if they get sick of me, they know I w0n’t be staying FOREVER or anything. Also, it’s not like I’ll be around ALL THE TIME. I’ll need time to blog, and also hunt down Finnish street food since I promised you you didn’t have to spring for real food, Rich Person.
I plan on cajoling Andreas to take me to Lapland so we can visit the Santa Park. I don’t think I’ll get married in the Ice Marriage Chapel, but one can never tell what might happen. I mean, I could meet someone who looks like Alexander Skarsgård and we might get married in the Ice Marriage Chapel. YES I KNOW HE’S SWEDISH NOT FINNISH. It’s the POINT. He is SCANDINAVIAN. It is SIMILAR. Also, I’m going to eat many Willy Wonka-style adorably named berries, pick my own mushrooms like a fancy lady, and also EAT PORRIDGE. Listen, I have never had porridge. I don’t even know what porridge TASTES like! How about we rectify this, right? Doesn’t it sound delicious, and like I should be doing some little-bears-style housebreaking to eat it? Yes, it sure does! And you can HAVE it. In FINLAND.
Also, I’m quite sure I will make friends with many Finns. I think they will enjoy me the most. I think they will be CONFUSED by me, because I talk VERY FAST and also USE MY HANDS A LOT, but also I think they will be caught up in my infectuous joy. My joy in BEING IN FINLAND. And listening to people speak ANOTHER LANGUAGE. Which I DO NOT UNDERSTAND AT ALL. Which you, Rich Person, helped bring about! See how this is working out brilliantly for you?
THEN! Part two of my plan to WIN EUROPE.
I will fly to GERMANY.
Or, if that’s too expensive, I suppose I could take a train. But when I was in Europe I took a train for very long distances and it was kind of time-consuming and exhausting and the bathrooms scared me and also weird men would hit on me regularly? I was like a magnet for them. Usually for vaguely Eastern European men who smelled like feet and cigarettes. I’m not sure what that’s all about. But it is up to YOU, Rich Person. I’ll take that train. WITH A SMILE. If that’s what you think is best.
When in Germany, I will meet Ken and Mrs. Ken and Ken’s dogs. This will ALSO be very exciting and I’m sure we’ll all hit it right off, and, as mentioned above, if I start to annoy them they can just reassure themselves that THE VISIT WILL NOT BE FOREVER. I’m well-aware how exhausting I can be. Also, as mentioned, searching for street food will undoubtedly take some time. And blogging. And generally geeking out about all things Germany. It’ll be like being on The Amazing Race, only I don’t have to compete with other teams. I WILL HAVE ALREADY WON.
(Listen, Rich Person, at this point, you’re probably wondering why I’m not saving your hard-earned money by staying with these people rather than staying in the Motel Sechs and such. I WILL TELL YOU. Because did you ever stay with someone when you’re visiting? It’s so awkward. You never know when you can use the bathroom, and you always feel like a bother and like you’re being too loud, and you don’t know where they keep the emergency chocolate. That’s something important to know. I have trouble staying somewhere that I’m not sure where the emergency chocolate is. Also, one time, Ken posted a photo that really supposed to be of his socks, and I assume it was taken his house, otherwise why was he sitting there with his shoes off? That’d be weird if it was someone else’s house or a bookstore or something. Anyway, I know I was supposed to be paying attention to the socks, but what I got from that photo was, everything in his house looked VERY VERY PALE COLORED. And listen, I could NOT stay somewhere where everything was that light. I would ruin poor Ken and Mrs. Ken’s house like in two seconds flat. There would be all the stains. I’m not even kidding. I’m a walking slapstick comedy. I spill sometimes just walking PAST someone ELSE who is eating. After meals, I have the traditional “spraying my blouse with Shout” because I ALWAYS drop something on it. ALWAYS. Without FAIL. I would just feel TERRIBLE if I ruined Ken or Andreas’s nice homes with my messiness. They totally would not forgive me, even though they’d pretend to because that’s what people do until you leave. So, you will need to spring for a Motel Sechs. Preferably one with dark walls, carpeting, and bedding. Or one with PATTERNED walls, carpeting, and bedding, so that the stains don’t show so much. Thanks in advance, it’s really in the best interests for all involved.)
After I finish completely embarrassing myself by rolling around on the floor for hours with Ken’s dogs because if there are dogs, that’s what I’ll be doing, sorry, humans, but dogs are kind of the best thing (FINE, I’ll totally hug the shit out of Ken and Mrs. Ken first before I get all floor-dirty) I will convince Ken to take me on the following adventures:
- A TRIP TO POING. I’m pretty sure I would rule Poing, given the opportunity. So I need to visit Poing, to see what I’ll be ruling. Also, I want to visit Wildpark Poing. SO BADLY.
- I want to eat all the wurst. But not liverwurst, because I am informed this is a liver-flavored potted meat type product. There are so many things wrong with that description that I can’t even wrap my mind around them so I won’t even begin to try. However, I have to sit really far away from Ken while I’m eating all the wurst because he has some seriously effed-up food things he likes, like ALL THE GARLIC AND ONIONS and ROOM-TEMPERATURE MILK. So we’ll just sit across the room from one another. I think that will be best. I don’t want to gag while I’m in Germany. That would ruin it for everyone.
- I want to listen to people speak German all around me because I think it would make me grin like a moron.
- I want to go to the dog park and watch Ken’s dogs play because they are the happiest dogs in all of the world, seriously.
- I want to find the restaurant I ate at one time when I was in Germany that served nothing but waffles and eat there. That might also have been in Amsterdam or Vienna, though, so this one’s optional.
THEN, once I have THOROUGHLY exhausted my welcome in Germany, it will be time to move on like the Little Hobo. YOU, Rich Person, will be all, aw, this has to come to an end now? But we’re having such fun! And THEN Part THREE of the plan!
See, after they see what awesome fun I’ve brought to Finland and Germany, I’m quite sure both Elaine and Rod will want me to visit THEM, in England and Ireland, respectively, and you’ll be SO EXCITED that this trip you’ve funded is not QUITE over yet that you’ll HAPPILY send me winging over there, right? RIGHT.
And then I will do many fun things there, like play with Elaine’s dog and be all fancy and LISTEN, I have never even BEEN to Ireland, I totally want to visit Ireland! I have ANCESTORS from Ireland! Won’t this be the most fun? Yes, it will. I have to admit I have not yet well-planned-out the England and Ireland portions of my trip. Because I have not yet been invited. I don’t like to count chickens before they hatch. Who does that? Assholes, is who, am I right? And you’d never sponsor an asshole to travel all over the world being awesome, I don’t think. But I’m pretty sure they WILL invite me. Once they see how much fun I have in Finland and Germany. I mean, wouldn’t ANYONE want someone as insane and filled with joy to visit them? I mean, I’d think so. I’m a little biased, though, because it’s me.
Then, Rich Person, I will come home. Exhausted and happy and filled with all the stories.
So, there you have it. A plan for global domination, well-thought-out and spelled-out and laid-out. ALL FOR YOU.
What do you think? Awesome, right?
Oh, most proposals come with a bid attached or something. Listen, I have no idea how much this will all cost. I’m telling you right up front. As a very poor poor person, I am not really good at figuring out imaginary travel costs. I mean, the other day Ken told me it cost like $50 to have DINNER in Poing. He did say that’s a NICE dinner, but still. So probably this won’t be cheap. Just as an example, I researched flights and those are going to be approximately $4,000, all-told. So using my math extrapolation skills, I’m thinking that the whole trip would probably cost you…um…let’s say $500,000.
Here, let me helpfully break that down for you.
$4,000 – flights
$100 – all the sunscreen
$2 – gum for the plane ride (so my ears don’t pop)
$495,898 – food and Motel Sechs-s and dog treats and bus tickets and incidentals, like what if I see a really nice hat? I mean, I don’t wear hats, but maybe when I’m on vacation, I’d like to start. You don’t want me to NOT buy that hat, right? Who’d want THAT? Also, what if I see really sparkly nail polish? GERMAN or FINNISH nail polish? That I can’t GET here in the States? I can’t NOT buy that. I mean, that’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, right there. Oh, and also chocolate. CHOCOLATE FROM FOREIGN LANDS. That’s the BEST KIND.
That seems high. Does that seem high? I’d hate to ask for too little and get stranded in Morocco or something. I KNOW I’m not going anywhere near Morocco. THAT’S WHY IT WOULD BE SO DISCONCERTING.
SO. I’ll be waiting patiently for you to get back to me, Rich People with Excellent Business Sense and Impeccable Taste. You know how to reach me.
This is your CHANCE to give BACK. Don’t let this pass you by. You’ll totally regret it.
Amy, the most crazy-eyed, desperate to travel, would be EVER SO GRATEFUL blogger in all of Blogonia
So, I had a very important updatey conversation with my dad last night about everyone’s favorite blog topic.
NO, not the missing balloon. He won’t talk about that anymore. He thinks the government took it. We’re not allowed to talk about that.
So, as you’ll all remember, a little over a month ago, my dad’s friend was waiting for the delivery of his helper mule. If you don’t remember, I’ve totally included the link above. You can click! There are animal photos, it’s really the best.
Since then, Helper Mule really has gotten quite a following. People want to know what’s going ON with Helper Mule! People want to know if he’s arrived! What he LOOKS like! If he’s…well…HELPFUL!
Luckily, we have my dad to answer all our burning questions.
I’ve been asking all month, on and off. Helper Mule was delayed for reasons unknown to anyone. Something about shipping? And difficulty getting a horse trailer? I assume because there’s no such thing as a Helper Mule trailer, that’s just way too specific of an item. sj was sure that the whole thing was a scam, perpetrated by the Russians. (She would, however, like you all to know she has nothing against Russians. It’s just that, in her head, the people who are scamming my dad’s friend HAPPEN to be Russian, not that ALL Russians are scammy.) I was kind of in agreement. I floated this theory past my dad, who ALSO thought maybe the Helper Mule thing was a scam. However, he thinks everyone’s in cahoots with everyone, so this really wasn’t much of a coup for me. I could tell him I saw an article that said the Mounties were working with the CIA on a spaceship to kill all the rhinoceroses and he’d be all, “Yep, sounds like them, the bastards.”
Also, Dad’s friend hired some guy to come over and build a Helper Mule barn and paddock but the guy never showed. I feel kind of bad for Dad’s friend. He’s getting screwed six ways to Sunday, here.
SO, a couple of days ago, Dad told me: HELPER MULE IS HERE!
Me: Any news on Helper Mule?
Dad: It’s here.
Me: WHAT? You didn’t START the conversation with that? I can’t believe you. It’s like I don’t even know you. Or YOU don’t even know ME.
Dad: Yeah, I’ll drive by sometime this week and check it out for you.
Me: Will you take PICTURES?
Dad: I’m not taking pictures of a mule.
Me: A HELPER mule. He’d probably help you focus it and everything. Pose for you. Helpfully. In his best light.
Dad: I’ll tell you what it looks like. That’s it.
Me: What if you ask your FRIEND to send you photos of the mule? Tell him the mule is famous on the internet. Tell him it has a twitter hashtag sometimes, and a whole blog post was written about it. I can’t imagine he wouldn’t send the photos THEN.
Dad: Um. I’m not telling him that. What the hell is a hashtag.
Me: It’s…this is not easy to explain. On Twitter, when you are talking about something, sometimes you put a pound sign in front of the topic? And then if people want, they can click that, and see who else is talking about it. And if ENOUGH people are talking about it, it’s one of the Trending Topics. So then you’re totally the most famous.
Me: I told you it’s really hard to explain.
Dad: I’m not telling him that.
So the next day…
Me: DID YOU SEE IT DID YOU SEE IT?
Dad: You know I’m watching basketball, right?
Me: HELPER MUUUUULE!
Dad: (sigh) Yes. It’s red. It’s supposedly red and white, but I didn’t see any white.
Me: Is its name Sal?
Dad: What the hell is wrong with you. Why would its name be Sal?
Me: Because of the Erie Canal Song, of course. If you have a mule and its name ISN’T Sal, you’re really missing an opportunity to sing it an awesome song.
Dad: I didn’t talk to him. I just drove by. There’s a red mule standing in a corral.
Me: See, also Sal rhymes with corral. Maybe it had white feet. Did you see its feet?
Dad: NO. I just DROVE BY. Its feet were in the mud.
Me: There’s already mud? That mule’s only been there one day. Sheesh. Is it the size of a horse or a donkey?
Dad: Between those two sizes.
Me: Did it look helpful?
Dad: It looked like a red mule, standing in a muddy corral.
Me: This isn’t a lot to go on. Go see it tomorrow. Take photos. THE INTERNET NEEDS TO KNOW.
Dad: I’m sending your uncle over to take photos. I told him about the hash browns.
Me: I…what? What hashbrowns? Are you going to buy him hashbrowns if he takes photos? That’s nice of you, everyone likes hashbrowns.
Dad: The internet hashbrowns so you can be famous about Helper Mules.
Me: ZOMG HASHTAGS.
Dad: That’s what I said.
Me: If the internet has hashbrowns, they’ve been holding back. I totally want some internet hashbrowns right now.
Me: So, what’s the scoop, old man?
Dad: I told you if you call me that, I’m hanging up. That’s very disrespectful of your loving father.
Me: FINE. What’s the mule news, youngish fella?
Dad: Not much better and it sounded forced. I saw the mule today.
Me: WHAT? You DID? Tell me ALL ABOUT IT.
Dad: Its name is Chief.
Me: What? “Got me a mule and its name is Chief?” THAT SUCKS. It doesn’t rhyme with ANYTHING in the song.
Dad: Well, don’t tell the mule that. It would hurt the mule’s feelings.
Me: Fine, I’ll keep that on the down low from the mule. I understand, I hate my name, too. Was it SO SO HELPFUL?
Dad: Wait, you hate your NAME? We GAVE you that name.
Me: That’s not the point. WAS THE MULE HELPFUL?
Me: What, um.
Dad: It won’t let anyone near it.
Dad: It’s like it’s not a tame mule. It’s like a wild mule. It’s scared of people.
Me: So, what, he goes out there to have the mule kneel down to let him ride it and…
Dad: It runs away.
Me: LIKE DUMBCAT!
Dad: Yeah. It’s about as helpful as Dumbcat, I think.
Me: Wait. Do you think it’s just being stubborn? Because aren’t mules supposed to be stubborn?
Dad: No. It’s scared. And not tamed. Or trained to be at all helpful.
Me: OH THIS IS THE WORST. He totally got scammed! I know we’ve been saying that but I was so hoping it wasn’t true. Then the mule showed up and I thought for sure it was all going to be alright!
Dad: Nope. It’s not even a LITTLE helpful. Also, its ears don’t point in the same direction, so it looks foolish. I mean, from what I could see. Mostly all I saw was it running away, and peeking out from behind the barn.
Me: ZOMG it is TOTALLY the Dumbcat of mules. So what now?
Dad: I don’t know. Maybe it’ll calm down. If not, he’s got to get rid of it. But he can’t.
Me: What? Why? He could call the Russians and demand a refund or something.
Dad: In a strange turn of events, his wife has fallen in love with the mule.
Dad: She said she wanted nothing to do with the mule, but now that it’s here, she gets up every morning early and tries to make friends with it and talks to it over the fence.
Me: OF COURSE SHE DOES. Anyone would! That’s what you DO with a scared animal. Much respect for his classy wife. OOH LISTEN.
Dad: Not much good ever came from you using that tone of voice.
Me: I am VERY GOOD with animals. They LOVE me. At the shelter, I was the BEST with the scared animals.
Me: So this SUMMER, I can totally Helper Mule Whisper that mule.
Dad: I don’t think that’s a thing.
Me: It will be once I do it. They might make a movie about me.
Dad: The Helper Mule Whisperer?
Me: YES. It will be a runaway smash hit and I will become SO SO FAMOUS. Also, smaller-picture-wise, I’ll get to see that mule.
Dad: You might be a little obsessed with this mule right now.
Me: IT IS RED AND I LIKE THINGS THAT ARE POTENTIALLY HELPFUL AND ALSO ANIMALS. You know that.
Dad: Yes, yes, I do. Oh, when I was there, I told him how famous his mule was.
Me: You DID? What did you say?
Dad: I told him you had a blog where you tell the internet all your personal business and someday it will get you murdered by a crazy, and also you’re on that Tweeter all the time, and that there are hashbrown tags.
Me: Getting better on the hashtags. I appreciate the effort. What did he say?
Dad: Not much. I think he was confused.
Me: It’s a little confusing. I’ll agree with that.
Dad: I also told him you said its name should be Sally, but he said that’s stupid since it’s a boy.
Me: SAL. Not Sally. “I got me a mule and its name is Sally, fifteen miles on the Erie Canally?” That doesn’t even make SENSE.
Dad: I also think he thought I was making most of how famous Helper Mule is on the internet up.
Me: Yeah. I sometimes think I am, too. It’s pretty far-fetched and too awesome to be real, most days. So, wait, did you take photos?
Dad: No. He said he was going to send me some. So I guess he’s ok that Helper Mule is famous on the internet. But I think his wife would be really mad if some crazy stalker killed Helper Mule because of your blog, so don’t tell anyone where Helper Mule lives.
Me: He wouldn’t get in a kidnapper’s van, anyway. TOO SCARED.
Dad: Good point. Smart move, Helper Mule.
Me: See? He’s already helpful. He’s helping internet stalkers not get their hands on an awesome thing. I KNEW HELPER MULE HAD A PURPOSE.
SO! Hopefully, if all goes well, we MIGHT have Helper Mule photos before the week is out. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Also, I’m kind of hoping Helper Mule calms down. For two reasons: a., poor Dad’s friend, with his high hopes for being helped even though I’m not sure why he needs a mule, and now he got scammed! and b., if Helper Mule doesn’t shape up, I might not get to see him over the summer, and how sad would that be? The MOST sad, is how sad!
UPDATE UPDATE UPDAAAATE!
So late in the day today I got an email from Dad. No text, just THIS attached. He’s a man of few words when it comes to typing, my dad.
Ladies, gentlemen, and whatever YOU are, Ding Dong Joe, I bring you:
CHIEF THE HELPER MULE WHO EITHER HATES OR IS TOO SCARED TO HELP.
I think he looks worried. And sad. Doesn’t he have totally sad eyes? Also, he’s kind of knock-kneed. I don’t think his ears look so weird, though, DAD. I think you made that part up to be funny.
Let’s end on happier note: here is a painting of a mule being helpful and carrying a pooper scooper that I totally found on the interwebs for you because I LOVE YOU.