Steak and Beer

Another “Steak and Beer Night” has come and gone successfully (don’t worry Mom… I drank grape soda). The only damper… my house has no air conditioning.

Deep down inside, I know that’s really nothing to complain about. On the list of priorities, “central air conditioning” isn’t really high. I can get used to sweating in places I didn’t even know had pores.

Earlier today, I was watching a special on celebrity pets (don’t ask why I was watching MTV in the first place… I can’t wait to get rid of cable), and it was fairly disgusting. Where do these people get off thinking that their ugly little mutt deserves a $5000 bed to sleep in, a wedding chapel for doggie weddings, diamond-studded collars, or a Gucci travelling case?

I don’t care if you are J-Lo. I don’t think most celebrities are worth the kind of treatment they receive, much less their canine companions. And while some celebs may require psychological counsel for their troubles, I don’t think the Osbournes’ pooch needs a shrink to explain why it pees on Ozzy’s carpet.

My central air and celebrity dog massages… about as inconsequential as you can get (though I’ll probably give the repair guy a hug when he comes on Monday).