It’d be romantic if my life resembled art, but it aligns much more succinctly with Pepper Ann than it does with a Warhol. At least my life isn’t Ed, Edd and Eddy or a Thomas Kinkade, though it’d rule if I were Patty Mayonnaise cool. Doug Funnily enough (permagroan @myself), I lived a TV trope last Saturday morning I decided to take my dog out on a walk before I went surfing. Full disclosure: my dog really likes to use the little boy’s room on my block, and while I totally empathize with not wanting to use a public restroom when you live nearby, it’s a bit awkward to do a pre-walk around the block before going anywhere. It should also be noted that my dog is cartoon stupid and stupid-looking. He has a severe underbite, he enjoys rocking out with his tongue out, and he loves everybody he has ever made eye contact with. After I leashed my dog up, I opened my gate and make eye contact with a postman who looks down at my dog, yells “Oh, shit!” and runs haphazardly down the block. My life.