Life in America...

A few weeks ago, Chris and I went to Nashville, to the Americana Music Association annual conference... where we got to see (briefly) John Prine and Kris Kristofferson, and where I embarassed myself by tearing after the Bottlerockets at the end of an incredible show.

I followed backstage and bitched em out for not playing the song, Get Down River.

I know- I know... that aint cool...

So the next day, I made an attempt to apologize to Brian, the lead singer... thinking, "Surely it wasn't as drunk or blush-worthy as I recall."

Wrong. Brian saw me coming and called out, "Well, if it isn't the aggravating lady!" Ugh.

But that isn't the point of this story.

The point of this story is that we left town, and so we needed somebody to feed and walk our incomparable dog, Dave.

Chris' family was out of town and Thisbe and Margaret were both busy, so we asked George W. Bush if he would take care of our pet, love and devoted friend.

Dubya said, "Sure, why not? I love dogs and Dave seems to be a pretty fine speciman. Leave it to me."

We were nervous about leaving Dave with a stranger, but we figured, "Hey, forty-nine percent of the American voting public can't be wrong... if this man can lead our great nation, surely he can handle a long weekend on Cedar St."

As it turns out, we were incorrect.

Because while we left him with a set of explicit instructions, we neglected to include a clause for "What to do if you can't find the can opener."

Dubya couldn't find the can opener, which was right where it always is, in the silverware drawer.

And instead of feeding Dave hamburger, or running to the store for kibble, or borrowing a can opener from a neighbor, Dubya threw his Texan hands up in the air and said, "This is too tough, man. I am outta here."

And he hopped the next Air Force One back to Washington or Austin, or wherever it is he goes after he's made a big mess of something.

It turned out okay, because Dave got into a box of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish that had been sitting on the coffeetable, and he drank toilet water. Also, we came home a day early, after the whole Bottlerockets debacle...

So that our poor canine love wasn't more than a little hungry and shaken up, but still! We were horrified.

So... if you voted for Dubya... you might reconsider. Just in case you ever need someone to walk your dog.

And I bet he's a bad tipper too!