I'm willing to sell my body to get us to that point. And really, selling plasma doesn't bother me that much. It's like an hour and a half of sitting around and reading (I'll take some recreational materials) and getting paid for it. True, it supposedly hurts the arm when they put the red bloodcells back in, but.... An extra $200 a month would be super sweet. And it fits into my schedule pretty easily.

In other news, I feel like going downstairs and kicking Maggie repeatedly. She's been moved into a small dog crate in the bathroom during down times as a beginning for her crate training. This has helped with her little problem of constantly pooping in the house. However, she's bound and determined that she's going to get out by barking continuously. We've now been "in bed" for about 40 minutes, and she's still barking.

With Kory and Amy, we enjoyed vegan food at Tommy's up in Cleveland Heights. We also came home, pulled out the puppies and let them play and socialize for a while. They are super cute, which I'm convinced is puppies' only way of surviving (otherwise, people would kill them for rolling around in their own turds and pissing on each other). Earlier this week, I showed them garbage bag and told them about the mighty Cuyahoga, and I was only 3/4 of the way kidding.

We've had some random people who've applied for these puppies come to our house the past few days. It's stressful because this is our home and they are strangers. Plus, our home isn't the cleanest or tidiest place, so there's that.

[Really, I can't wait until we're super wealthy and we can hire someone (with benefits) to clean our house and shit. I mean, it's only fair. We both HATE doing it, and I hate living in filth.]

Anyway, Indy has been officially adopted and he will be leaving next week for his new home. Yesterday, we had some materialistic suburban creeps come and look, but none of our dogs fulfilled their requirements. They also refused to sit on our furniture, and rejected five of the puppies outright because they didn't look cute enough. Plus, they wanted a dog that was six pounds, like the one they had.

Fuck them.

And really, the joke's on them anyway. They live in a place called Seven Hills, which sounds hoity-toity enough (and it is), and the lady was like 40 years old and desperately trying to hold on to youth -- to the point that she was wearing a very visible (when she bent over) obnoxiously colored thong. She also dressed like the freshmen girls in my classes.

I'm pretty sure the notion of selling plasma never entered their minds...

As unimpressed as they were with our humble abode, I was far less impressed with everything about them. And the best part? I declared to Amy that I was adopting Adelaide and Fargo (the only ones that were appealing to them) until after they called back. They wouldn't be getting a dog to match their throw pillows after all.

I had to laugh.