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02:29 pm: I Has a Sweet Potato
You know, a lot of times I write up random posts and then don't post them. But Best Beloved just called me, and I could not really explain why I was inarticulate about sweet potatoes, so I said I'd go ahead and post this. That way, she can read it at work and know just what kind of day it has been. (Short version, for those who do not feel like reading the whole post: ARRRRRRG. Fucking sweet potatoes.)

The longer version, summarized in conversation form:

Dog: I am starving.
Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.
Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.
Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.
Me: I am now ignoring you.
Dog: Did you hear me? I am starving.
Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.

[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]

[From the kitchen, there comes a noise like someone is eating a baseball bat.]

Me, yelling: What the hell are you doing?
Me: *makes haste for the kitchen and finds dog there*
Dog: *picks up entire raw sweet potato, which is what was causing the baseball bat noise, and flees for the bedroom*
Me: *chases dog, retrieves most of sweet potato, less the portion which has disappeared into dog's gullet*
Me: ...That can't be good for you. It's a RAW SWEET POTATO.
Dog: I had to do it. I haven't been fed. Ever.
Me: You realize you aren't normal. Normal dogs don't steal raw sweet potatoes.
Dog, sadly: I was badly brought up.
Me: Yes. Yes, you were.
Dog: By people who starved me.
Me: Oh, no. I am not doing this again.
Me: *exits the room, bearing sweet potato*

[There is a pause.]

[There is a noise like someone is trying to eat a baseball bat very very quietly.]

Me: Oh, for the love of GOD.
Me: *heads off to the kitchen*
Dog: I am not eating a raw sweet potato.
Me: You have sweet potato parts all over your snout.
Dog: But you don't actually SEE a raw sweet potato, do you? So maybe that's just - um. A birthmark.
Me: Did you seriously eat a whole sweet potato?
Dog: You don't listen. I told you, I wasn't eating a sweet potato.
Me, searching around fruitlessly: Look. NO MORE SWEET POTATOES.
Me: Oh, what am I saying? This is you we're talking about, here. *goes to hide all the sweet potatoes that are left - which isn't many - in the fridge, because some people cannot be trusted*
Dog: *attempts to look thwarted*
Dog: *does not succeed, because her tail is wagging so hard small cyclones are forming in the kitchen*
Me: *has a very bad feeling about this*

[There is a pause, during which I do not even bother trying to return to what I was doing. I just stand in the computer room, waiting.]

[There is, as I wholly expected, a baseball-bat-eating noise.]

Me, stomping back to the kitchen: OKAY. GIVE ME THE DAMNED SWEET POTATO.
Dog, looking up guiltily: What sweet potato?
Dog: Oh, did you want this? I just, um. Found it. Lying here.
Me: *confiscates the sweet potato and deposits it in the locking trashcan*
Me: Let us say no more about this.
Dog: ...Nooooo! They be stealin' my sweet potato!

[I attempt to remember what I was doing before the sweet potato episode.]

[Some ten minutes later, I succeed, and return to it.]

[NOT ONE MINUTE LATER, I hear a noise with which I have become all too familiar.]

Me, bonking head on desk: Arg.
Me, arriving in kitchen: How did you even get another sweet potato?
Dog, smugly: I have my ways.
Me: Are you punishing me for being away for several days? I was at a FUNERAL, you know. It wasn't FUN.
Dog: How would I know? You didn't take me. You left me here with only one human to look after my needs. One human is NOT ENOUGH.
Me: *shuts dog in bedroom, conducts a sweep of the kitchen to track down all remaining sweet potatoes, wipes up random sweet potato particles from floor, eradicates all traces of sweet potato from house*
Me: *lets dog out*
Dog, sulkily: Oh, so you think you've won.

[I watch her go about her business with the same sense of overwhelming doom that heroines of Victorian novels get when they meet Count Sinistrus Grimblack for the first time.]

[Half an hour later, there is a wetter, juicier eating noise, as though someone was eating a very moist baseball bat.]

Me, wearily: What NOW?
Dog, hunched over the remains of a butternut squash: *says something garbled because her mouth is full*
Me: Okay. Fine.
Me: *stomps over, empties entire vegetable bowl into trash*
Dog: I'm not even remotely sorry. I told you I was hungry. And you went to a funeral without me.

[A half-hour later, there is another baseball-bat-eating noise from the kitchen. The dog, who apparently does not know how to win gracefully, has found another sweet potato, or possibly caused one to materialize from the Rift.]

Me, hauling chewed sweet potato parts from the mouth of a dog very reluctant to part with them: Oh my god how is this my life?
Dog: Don't you think it would just be easier to feed me?
Dog: Actually, I feel...um...not so good.
Dog: *throws up* *vomit is very bright orange*

[Unfortunate details ensue.]

Some time later:
Me, attempting to rescue something from the wreckage: So. What have we learned from this?
Dog: Sweet potatoes are yummy!
Other Dog, looking thoughtful: I should pay more attention to crunching noises. Sweet potatoes are probably yummy.
Me: I need a lobotomy.

And that, Best Beloved - and anyone else who made it through that - is What Kind of Day It Has Been.


[ETA 6/22/2007: Hi! I can't reply to comments on this entry any more; I'm reading them all, and loving them, but responding is beyond me. So:

If you'd like to link people here, feel free.

If you'd like to leave a comment, please do. They make me happy.

If you'd like to repost or use this elsewhere, please don't; I'd prefer you to link. And no commercial use of my work without my permission, please.

If you see this reposted or used elsewhere, I'd very much appreciate a comment or email - thefourthvine at livejournal dot com - to let me know where.

Thank you for reading!

...And, yes, she has had more sweet potato; I gave it to her when the comments on this hit the tenth page. I figured she'd earned it.]


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[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 09:31 pm (UTC)
Oh god. I've had this day. With my dog. And everything edible in the house.

... as well as a few things non-edible.

I am laughing so hard that the aforementioned dog is glaring at me for waking her up.
Date:May 11th, 2007 09:54 pm (UTC)
Hilarious. Made my day.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 10:05 pm (UTC)
i think i love you.
(here via ashbet)
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 10:07 pm (UTC)
I am extremely thankful that I put my soda down before I read that.

There could have been serious snarfing all over the computer monitor
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 10:20 pm (UTC)
O, my dear sweet Mother of God . . . I'm so glad I followed danabren's warnings and put down the chai . . .

I have no idea who you are and you likely don't know me but may I note this entry in my LJ so the fine folks on my list can also enjoy the glorious sensation of snarfing their eyeballs through their sinus passages? Pretty please?
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 11:35 pm (UTC)
Are you a writer? This is awesome. I can so picture it!
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 12:08 am (UTC)
*laughs to tears*


I appreciate that you probably now twitch whenever you hear a root vegetable.

But you and Dog have brought a brief spell of joy to the lives of many.
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 12:18 am (UTC)
I've had this same thing happen to me. But with a regular potatoe instead of a sweet potatoe. One happened to fall onto the ground and the dog grabbed it within a half second and took off running full sleep, knowing that I would chase him. It was a swift planned action. Then he chewed on the damn thing until I could get it away from him. Damn dog.
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 12:25 am (UTC)
Now that I've recovered from the asthma attack that much uncontrolled laughter triggered....

Are you sure you didn't borrow my 2 border collies?

At least doggie didn't throw up 5 times in 1 1/4 hrs, like BC # 2 did (picked a new rug each time) a few weeks ago, in the height of the pet food scare - turned out she had ingested too much overly rich fresh sheep manure and peacock poop.

At least I now know that someone else in this world has days like mine!
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 12:57 am (UTC)


[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 01:11 am (UTC)
holy crap. i so dont have the attention span to read 11 pages worth of comments. just promise lots of stories. i rarely laugh and i was laughing so hard my mom came upstairs to see what was wrong with me.
Date:May 12th, 2007 01:51 am (UTC)


if i write more here i will sound stupid too
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 02:20 am (UTC)
Can't. Breathe. Laughing. Too. Hard.

I think this is the funniest thing I've ever come across on this blog.

You wouldn't happen to have pit bulls, would you?
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 04:44 am (UTC)
I read that whole thing out loud to my life...our cat is like this, so we can empathise.
[User Picture]
Date:May 12th, 2007 04:52 am (UTC)
This is bloody brilliant.

I went through the same thing with my dog, many years ago, except it was a bag of regular potatoes.
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