Today is Lucy Fur's 11th birthday. My bitch is old, y'all.

I have a locker at work. Since we're not allowed to take anything upstairs, we keep it all down on A. I carry a bag with extra pens, extra notepads, breath mints, shoes polish and a lot of other random server crap.

Friday night, The Mexican, Smang and I were watching Superbad at The Little Green House. It was fairly late at night. I had come home from work, and just thrown all my stuff on the bed.

About halfway through an overly long movie (it's funny, but it's about 30 minutes too long), I heard a suspicious and familiar sound, emanating from my room.

"*rip rip rip* *lick lick lick* *chew chew chew*"

I ran into my room, where Lu was lying in the middle of the bed, eating her way through my bag. Not eating the contents of the bag, like the mints or anything. The actual bag.



My dog is a goat. Happy birthday, Goatdog!