Wanna make a dog think you're a GOD?

Yesterday after shit-shoveling I went into town with J to do some shopping. I was low on a lot of stuff and had been lovingly working on a list for days. J dropped me off at the dollar store while he ran his errands, and I loaded up on canned stuff. Nothing that wasn't on the list.

Then he picked me up and we went across the street to the grocery store where I blatantly violated Joel's First Rule of Food Shopping:

Never Shop For Food While You're Hungry.

'Cause if you do that, you're gonna come home with stuff you don't usually eat, and you're gonna cry about the money you just wasted. Which is what happened.

There was this package of ribs "reduced for quick sale." In this particular store, buying any meat at all is dangerous because their reefer is powered by geriatric squirrels or something. "Reduced for quick sale" is IGA-Speak for "It's already gone bad." But it looked so goooood...

Turns out I dodged that bullet, but I started cooking it before I'd even put the cans away because it sure wouldn't be good tomorrow, y'know?

Now, the boys were still in Gitmo. That meant I got to watch a movie on my 'pooter and chow down in peace on the first ribs I've eaten in YEARS. Having no refrigeration, I'm kind of a vegetarian but not from any philosophical conviction. Gad, it was good.

Then I went and got the boys. Since I'm a defacto vegetarian, that pretty much means they're defacto vegetarians. They're probably not as resigned to it as I am.

And this time the boys knew instantly that something otherworldly and wonderful had been going on in the Lair while they were gone. I had their attention. I also had all those bones and all that fat and gristle.

And the boys, they settled right down and had themselves a party, fed to them by the hand of the best dad on earth.