I Mean, Clearly He's Upset With This

I was seriously ready for bed. I've been up since five thirty when I started watching the Ricki Lake documentary "The Business of Being Born" and can I just say, that business is horrifying. Home birth is exciting and awful and you get confused when watching it because half of you is reverting back to when you were four and a half and wouldn't it be so neat to put a swimming pool right in the livingroom of your house and the other half of you is like "Oh sweet lord, she isn't swimming for enjoyment, is she? Nope...she's totally screaming...screaming and bleeding and CLOSEUPOFTHEHEAD I'm never having sex again where do I go to get that sewn up permanently??!!"

Anywho, after watching that horrible wreckage of a film first thing this morning, I am seriously spent, done-zo, ready for sleepy time at a whopping eight thirty pm. So I began my normal bedtime routine for Facebook stalking everyone I know. And that, my friends, is when I came across this:


I still don't even know what to do. Do I laugh? Because it's so funny, but is that fair?? To him, I mean. There are honestly sixteen pictures or so of this stinkin' adorable dog wearing every dog-sweater known to man on my friend's page and it's so hysterical I can't tell if I even feel bad for the poor bastard. THE BOOTS. DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THE BOOTS??? He looks like he's walking on giant blue thumbs with velcro straps and his FACE. HIS FACE IS SO CLEARLY UNAMUSED it's just that much better.

I won't be able to sleep now. Flipping through these adorable photos is like my Ricki Lake movie this morning - so awful and yet so intriguing.
Is that a metaphor no one's done yet? Dressing your dog is like having a home birth?
So terrible, it'll change your life forever.

Thanks, Ali, for making my day. Mushu is fantastic.