the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Good Dog

Commands my dog understands:

Shake paws.
Stop licking the couch.
No more cheese.
No, no, no, no, NO.
Uuuhhh, uh. Uhhhhh, uh. UHHHHH, UH.
Don’t tell Papa I gave you this.
Zip it.
Wait… wait… I SAID WAIT.
Oh God, stop it, that is so sick.

Commands my dog does not understand:

Play dead.
Stop manipulating me.
Stop pacing.
Resist the urge to sniff every vertical object on this walk.
Stop marking.
Stop moping.
Calm down.

Commands my dog should know, because as it is, my dog isn’t useful enough:

Brush your teeth.
Fix Momma a hot dog.
Rub my back.
Poop in one specific place, very quickly, at the same time every day.
Stop shedding.
Bring me the remote.
Tell me I’m beautiful.
Pay the bills.
Fold the laundry.
Troubleshoot Movable Type.
Growl at the Mormons.
Cry with me during “Felicity.”
Resond to all that email.
Validate my CSS.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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