It’s My Dog in A Box

Steve Gutenberg definitely came to Friday’s show. He was wearing a grey Jones Beach t-shirt and jeans.

I’m extending the contest until Monday night since guesses are still “trickling in” and no one has quite gotten it right yet. Fellow employees who helped time him or who were with me when Steve invited us to join his table at Sushi Samba and promised us we would all go out again next week—Garth—are prohibited from entering.

In the meantime, several of you have written me and asked more about Indian Princesses. Like: was that for real? Sure was.

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This is me, when I had only earned one feather in my headband. I’m not wearing the shark’s teeth necklace but I am wearing my leather arrowhead name badge, which, of course, says “White Dove.” This photo is amazing. It immortalizes the 80’s basement: red shag carpet to the left, Fisher Price record player to the right. I am also sporting my Ravenscroft sweatshirt. Cool beans! Here’s a closer look:

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I have trouble remembering my Norwich Terrier, Flipper, ever being this patient. She was my loyal pet and best friend for over 15 years. That’s why I could really relate to this story. But what a poor choice of photograph.

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Tell me you didn’t think that was the first dog. Ew.

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2 responses to “It’s My Dog in A Box

  1. The animal head in the box thing has never been my style. i prefer gift wrapping my defication. Nothing says a psycho is obsessed with you like a gift wrapped box of poop.

  2. I would love a lil Norwich terrier, they’re so tiny and cute..!

    PS I used to live in Norwich, about 20 years ago now… a fine town… or City, as the 250,000 locals insist on calling it…

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