DR. STEWEY, PAGING DR. STEWEY

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's busy pouting over the fact that so many of you wonderful readers out there LOVE me and always ask what I'm up to. (Don't worry about the pouting thing. She does that every now and then and I pretend not to notice.)

I had some fabulous adventures at the Derby, but am sad to report that I lost my winning Superfecta ticket. I had it in my wallet, but methinks I might have dropped it when I was retrieving my credit card to pay for drinks. I tried to explain this to the nice man at the betting window, but he said (and I quote) "Yeah, right, pal. You and six million other people had the ticket that pays a half mil. What's with the hat?"

Sheesh. You would think that the sight of a little nine-pound Jack Russel wearing a pink hat would have been enough for this guy to cut me some slack, but alas, it was not to be.

Since I spent all of my traveling money entertaining some new "friends" at the track, I had to hitch home. Please don't tell my mom. She'd be reaaaalllllllly peeved, especially since I took her car down there in the first place and I didn't seem to remember that when it was time to come home. I'm going to get my pesky cousin Bosco to drive me back down there tomorrow so that we can have a look around to see if we can find the damn thing. (That's what she gets for calling a vehicle Gia. Who ever heard of such a stupid name for a car?) Anywhoose, I'll probably have to leave at the crack of dawn since Bosco only has access to his tricycle during the day, and no matter how hard I try, I can't get him to peddle any faster.

I did manage to get a nice spiff-up while I was gone. I had a wonderful oatmeal bath, followed by a nail trim, a good ear cleaning, and some breath spray. The place I went to didn't have my usual cologne (called Game Time), so I had to live with a little drop of Aramutz behind my ears. I prefer a more manly scent, but I suppose it's good to try something new every now and then. Besides, I didn't have time to argue with the lady at the spa...I was running late for the Barnstable Brown Party, and I hadn't even had a change to press my cummerbund yet.

Today was a rather lazy day for me. (If my mom finds out I am nursing a hangover, I'm pretty sure she'll have an aneurysm, so we'll keep this between us chickens, K?) She thinks I'm not feeling particularly well, since I bit Miss Emily that lives next door, but hey, she was trying to pet me and I just wasn't in the mood. (I'm not exactly what you would call people friendly.)

As for the title of this post, I had to do some minor surgery on the old lady this evening. She was chopping peppers and onions with her new spanky chef's knife and she damn near cut off the tip of her finger. She didn't panic too much, which was good, but now she's fretting over the fact that some lady over in Montana got necrotizing faciatis from a cut and ended up losing the left side of her body. (This is what I get for letting her watch Oprah last week.) (I'm going back to hiding the remote.)

So that's it for me, kids. Do me a favor, will ya'? Throw my mom a bone every now and then and let her think that the real reason you read this silly blog is to see what she's been stitching. She tries so hard, and I have to practically hide my face in my blanket so I don't laugh at the sight of her sitting in the Happy Chair with some project up to her nose and her tongue sticking out in concentration, so let's just try to keep her somewhat happy.

I hope you had a great weekend and that you can remember all of it (damned if I can). I'll write more soon, I promise.

Love,
Stewey