The dog's drug regimen was so elaborate, I had to set her up a calendar just to keep track. Not only were there different dosing frequencies, but some of the drugs had to be taken alone, with two hours buffer. It was a feat trying to schedule everything so that I could get a full night's rest.

To add to this, one drug requires surgery to administer—okay perhaps not quite a surgical procedure, but it does require making a solution and squirting with syringe. Might prove to be quite a task at six in the morning. Interesting to note: the same drug can cause a pregnant woman to abort her fetus just from contact.

But in the end we're just glad the baby dog is back where she belongs. What a weekend!

'Seriously? This is all $2,500 gets us?'

I was disappointed by the dog's accommodations at the hospital. Sure, her cell was big enough to fit four normal-sized persons comfortably, but for some reason I imagined visiting her on a big, white hospital bed. I don't know why.

"Me too," the Tamster concurred.

I dunno how I'd feel if our dog had died tonight.

We've just returned from the animal hospital and I've already had several impulses to let her out for the night, or to feed her, or to check up on her. Oddly enough, she's not here. We had just admitted her for NSAID poisoning, which is to say she managed to snake out a baggie of ibuprofen from the Tamster's bag.

The last few hours were probably the most trying yet for our little family; the realization of what the dog had consumed, me screaming, my wife crying, and the dog overwhelmed by the commotion.

Then there's the frenzied drive downtown—me screaming, my wife crying, and the dog overwhelmed by the commotion. And at 11pm we got stuck in a traffic jam on I-76.

I think we'll be okay, if not a few grand richer. My wife hasn't divorced me and the dog's kidney seems intact. Which is all fine... but I can't help but wonder how many shiny new puppies you can get for a couple of grand.

Once you've had mice, you never look at a burnt grain of rice the same way again. It borderlines paranoia.

Dreamweaver CS4, you have got to be the buggiest program ever.

Like mythically buggy, the stuff legends are made of. So bad it's funny, but I'm not laughing—I can't laugh and tear my hair out at the same time. You inflame my anger management issues. I want to smack something. Hard.

Your windows and panels run into and trip each other like blind chicken in a pitch-black closet with their heads cut off. You're that retarded. Like turning around three times in my chair has a better chance of clearing your glitches than clearing your glitches would. You're that retarded.

Before you I had Studio MX '04 and while that was sluggish as all hell at least it didn't act like a total moron. You put the rest of the CS4 suite to shame, and they're buggy in their own right. I can't believe I paid the premium for you, over-priced piece of shit.

I dunno why I've been pushing it off. It took all of fifteen seconds to confirm that the itchy rash on my arms is a symptom of sun poisoning. Thank you Internet.

You'd think I'd be immune. After all, tropical genes run the course of this beautiful body. But then again I did get food poisoning from tap water the last time I was in Manila. The same tap water the locals drink. I had it bad from both ends.

Perhaps genes wear off after time.

I was browsing Facebook while using a public stall in a high traffic rest stop, when I realized Neutral Milk Hotel was being played amidst the abundance of sounds associated with high traffic rest stops.

That's pretty cool. I mean, Neutral Milk Hotel isn't exactly mainstream. Perhaps they subscribe to satellite radio and happened to be on the indie channel.

Moments later, Pavement came on. And moments after that, I closed the Facebook app to reveal Pavement's Wowee Zowee displayed underneath. Duh.

"So that entire time everyone can hear music coming from your iPhone?" the Tamster asked rhetorically. It's even funnier when you think of it that way.