Retail Therapy

Nigel here. I heard about another mushy Monday, so I thought I had better do a little damage control. I called America's Most Wanted and told them that my two-legger pulled that armored car heist they were talking about on TV the other night. I also told them that he looks like a dingleberry with a diamond grill and ten pounds of gold chains around his neck. The food bowl may be running a little low, but the couch sure feels a lot bigger!

Now before I get to the good part let me ask you - is it just me or did that windy piece of drivel that started the week off contain one or two of these?

I thought so. Now that we have that cleared up it's time to focus on me. If you were around a couple of weeks ago you may have caught my visit to the office, and subsequent discussion of all things work related. It sucked pretty hard and I was asked to stay away after yelling "Cubes are for pubes!" as I ran past the sales pit on my way out. It only took me a few minutes to figure out that I have a fairly acceptable arrangement at home. I'll leave that earning thing to you foolish humans. Spending is my bag. I derive great pleasure from hitting the stores to test out some plastic and see how my two-legger's credit is holding up. Won't you join me?


Before I blow my fridge opener's retirement fund, check this out! A package arrived the other day from this really cool, sweet lady in Texas. Her name is Holly and I'm pretty sure we're going to be married one day soon. Since a dog can't wear a ring, I think a collar is generally considered the next best thing, and Holly made this one for me all by herself! Note how she lovingly embroidered my name in it. This serves two critical needs: it increases my chances of hearing someone scream my name, and it will also help those closing time cuties figure out what to call me when they wake up in my dog bed on a cold, regrettable weekend morning.

See that church in the background? This is as close as I can get before the dark clouds come and the sky zappers start flying everywhere.

Hey look it's the love handle store!

These nice ladies showed me their pepper spray collections after I offered them the exclusive opportunity to shop at my own, personal banana republic.

Don't bother with this place. They couldn't even tell me the difference between the mac daddy and the daddy mac.

Since when is anything old good?

If you like being chased with rolled up newspapers I highly recommend asking this lady to let you try on the jimmy hats.

I don't know about you, but I get a serious case of the ri ras if I eat too much Taco Bell.

And then I make a run for this place like they tell you in the commercials.

Interesting. I thought a happy trail was that little strip of...oh never mind. Let me just say I couldn't find a single one in the store, and security asked me to leave just when I thought I was getting close.

Speaking of happy trails, this lady almost got a handful of mine after reaching a little low on that last pass.

This is the snob shop. All the sweaters are three hundred bucks, and the ladies keep their noses so high in the air they look like they are always checking for blown light bulbs. They don't let you talk on your cell phone in the store because that would be uncivilized. I left an exotic footwarmer in the doorway, because everyone knows pink and brown is a knockout combination.

I was not allowed to partake because I always get a really creepy look on my face when I ask someone to butter my popcorn.

So I settled for these dumpster flavored snackables.

I picked up a box of the strongest dark chocolate I could find for that mouthy anklebiter who lives down the street.

Then some do-gooder lady ran up and started screaming at me when I peed on this trash can.

So I stepped aside. Does the sign say some-in-one? Nope. Lady, there's your sign.

These people rock. Give them all of your money.

Two-legger said this is an antique. Apparently antiques make mullets really mad, because in like only five minutes three mullets came up and started yelling in to it that they were not gonna send payments to their baby mommas.

I thought I heard someone yell my name, but it was some kid getting yelled at for picking his boogers.

If these cars were offered in men's sizes I might be a little nervous about the driver.

Welcome to my own personal hell.

Now this sounds promising!

Freebie snacks on the way in the door. Nice touch.

They told me this thing keeps the pimples off the booty.

More attention and more freebies. More handouts than Reid and Pelosi.

You'll notice that up until now the pics have been clear and well focused, but when it came time to snap this one my two legger was shaking like a crackhead with a Monster Chaos IV drip.

Subsequently, I suffered from an inexplicable desire to stand next to this display for a few minutes.

The nice lady at the store showed my two-legger what his wallet was going to look like if he didn't drag mommy out of there.

I left my calling card on this sign - on a whim.

What the hell?!?  You know what this means.

See Nigel run. In other words...

...let's roll.