Poop pursuit

Spent the past 40 minutes or so tailing my dog Shwea, in the hopes that she would do what she usually does every time I take her out for a walk of such duration. (Am dragging both beasts into the vet this afternoon for their annual checkup, so need stool samples for them both.)

Of course, since I was avidly waiting for her to do her business, she did everything else--sniffed several stumps, chewed on branches, got her fur up over a scent that no one else could smell, and so on. Twice she squatted--but only to do Number One.

A wily beast, that Shwea. Linus, usually the "I'm not doing it just because you want me to" school, was quite obliging. So, I'll have to follow Shwea outside at lunch time, when we go out for our midday break. Here's hoping she delivers, for otherwise, I'll have to make a separate trip to the vet--to drop off doo.

Just seems wrong, somehow. And this whole "Poop Watch" job makes this dreary, drizzly Monday that much more special, don't you know.

On other fronts, I watched more women's basketball yesterday than is probably healthy--got to the point where I couldn't discern one team from another, nor did I really care. The only thing I do remember is Coach Dawn Staley (SP?) of Temple University getting a foul for foul language--she looked as P.O.'d as anyone I've ever seen on TV. That wasn't acting, folks, that was a genuinely furious female--and fierce, did I mention fierce? My, that was fun to watch! (Yes, I like the angry girls--don't ask me what that's about.)

Speaking of fun, last night's "The L Word" was a rip--Dana and Alice finally succumed to their mutual passion, and it was one of the hottest/most hilarious sex scenes I've seen in a while (the woman who plays Dana does physical comedy like nobody's business). And Camyrn Manheim has a cameo role that will ensure her a spot in Dyke Heaven. (If she's interested in such a spot, of course--who can tell these days, with these Hollywood types?) The only blight on the night was in the form of Jenny (don't know why that character bothers me so, but she does); they have cut her hair and dressed her as though she's some sort of lesbian Audrey Hepburn.

Good goddess--I didn't know Audrey Hepburn, but Jenny is NO Audrey Hepburn. Not even close.

Sigh.