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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:November 17th, 2007 06:32 pm (UTC)
Hi there,

I don't think I have any connection to you at all, but saw a link to this on a friend's blog....and oh my god, it was worth the read. So hilarious, I was literally laughing out loud! :-D

And let me tell you, it reminds me all too much of the dog my family used to have, and his one-track, single-mindedness when he found something yummy and tasty that he just had to have.

Thanks for the laugh!

[User Picture]
Date:November 18th, 2007 12:40 am (UTC)
tooooooooooooooooooooo funny!!!
[User Picture]
Date:November 19th, 2007 04:17 am (UTC)
My face hurts from laughing so hard at this! My friend hhw sent this link in a reply to one of my posts entitled "The Splendid Kitchen Floor" about one of my dogs. This here is hilarious! I'm going to come back and read this again, it's so funny!
Date:November 19th, 2007 05:18 am (UTC)

Sweet Potato Pie....

Found you from Dooce.

I must say: Oh. My. God. It's rare that something on a blog will make me laugh out loud. And even more rare when I laugh through the entire post. I don't know if it's because of your writing (hilarious) or the fact that I have a dog and can TOTALLY relate... although, her Sweet Potato is actually sour grapes... that have dropped from the vine in the backyard. Bailey eats the grapes... even though they cause her to EXPLODE in the house. I think she likes to see me clean up her shit. Because I leave her home alone all day. So I can pay for her dog shit... er, food.

And that's why we don't have carpet.

Well done. Thanks for the laughs.

[User Picture]
Date:November 19th, 2007 05:31 am (UTC)
I am le ded.

Seriously, I think your dog and my cat are related. He and I had a conversation not unlike parts of that tonight, in fact.

Me: (coming home from dinner out with friends)
Cat: (meeting me at door) So. HUNGRY. I haven't eaten in, like, FOREVER.
Me: Oh, come on now, I feed your chunky butt all the time.
Cat: If, by "all the time", you mean NEVER, then we agree.
Me: You weigh fifteen pounds. You're not withering away or anything.
Cat: But I AM. I've said it, so it is true.
Me: Look, I'll feed you, just like I always do, but I don't see why you're making a huge deal out of it, because all you're going to do is hound me until I put the food in the dish, and then you'll be out of the room even before me, without even touching that food.
Cat: Not true! Not true! SO HUNGRY! Lights.... fading.... Sight... growing weak....
Me: *goes for the cat food*
Cat: *does happy dance all the way to the closet with me, underfoot the whole way*
Me: *takes the cat food to the cat dish*
Cat: *does happy dance all the way to the cat dish with me, underfoot the whole way*
Me: *fills the cat dish*
Me: *turns and walks out of the kitchen, only to trip over the cat, not two steps into the dining room*
Me: ...
Cat: (displaying kitty titties for the whole world (or just me) to see) What?
Me: Um, thought you were STARVING.
Cat: Silly human, I have no idea what you're on about. Also, watch where you're walking, will ya?

At least I know I'm not the only one. Thanks for the sporfle. :)
[User Picture]
Date:November 19th, 2007 06:18 am (UTC)
I absolutely LOVED this. You have a way with words.....do you write for a living? You should!
[User Picture]
Date:November 19th, 2007 06:38 am (UTC)
o hai! ;D

found you on dooce.com, and good gracious does this sound familiar.

linking your post on my journal, thank you for the laugh!
Date:November 19th, 2007 01:27 pm (UTC)

Your dogs? Not so weird

We have a garden. Or had rather. Now it's an extensive organic farm for out two dogs. Their 'treats' include, but are not limited to: sweet potato, pumpkin, honeydew, cherries, strawberries, kiwi, and a few sugar maples (the kind from which you actually get syrup, they eat chunks out of the tree).

What bothers me that I find them eating are items like dirty diapers, Raccoons, and our pergo flooring.

Saw a link on Dooce's blog to this.
[User Picture]
Date:November 19th, 2007 04:09 pm (UTC)
Absolutely brilliant. All I kept thinking was "This should be a comic strip or a movie". I needed this laugh :)

Say you on dooce.com...and I'm going to link to you on my blog at athsndwords.blogspot.com. Again...incredibly funny :)
Date:November 19th, 2007 05:30 pm (UTC)
Fun story :-) Thanks for sharing it.
Date:November 19th, 2007 06:07 pm (UTC)


My coworkers, two of them(!), just IM'd me to see if I was ok. I was over here nearly SOBBING with giggles reading this. And I was only half way thru!
Julie in Milwaukee
[User Picture]
Date:November 19th, 2007 09:44 pm (UTC)
I laughed until I heaved sobs at my desk. My coworkers think I'm insane. I've had those days. I've had those dogs. I've had dogs that get in the fridge. I feel your pain.
[User Picture]
Date:November 20th, 2007 07:11 pm (UTC)
Oh, and I'm emailing to my mom and using your screen name to give you "credit". So if it makes it way back to you via 10,000 forwards, it was me.
Date:November 19th, 2007 09:55 pm (UTC)

My dog eats coins

I thought my sister was stealing my change out of the dish on the kitchen table that I put my lose change in each day. I would put change in, the next day, most of the change was gone. Many arguments with sister took place over this. Then we found out, at the vet, that Stevie, my fat 25 lb. shih zu, with his goat like behavior, would eat the change, go out back, puke it up and go back and eat more change, until one day four coins went beyond his stomach and $800 later the vet pulled out one quarter, two dimes, a nickel and a penny. They keep it in a baggy in the office tacked to the wall.

All lose change is now kept in a giant jar with a secure top. It will be along time till I save up $800...

Date:November 20th, 2007 12:52 am (UTC)


Date:November 20th, 2007 01:15 am (UTC)
This was hysterical, I am pretty sure I have your dog's twin at my house.
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