Puppy Classes, Instagram Filters, and Pink Boxes

Last night Penny and I put our old lady ways aside and ventured outside at 7 pm to go to Puppy Training Class at our local PetSmart.

Before we went to class I was a little worried that I was going to have the "bad kid" or the "smelly kid' or the "sent the teacher to the ER kid" but it turns out I had the star student!  Take that Simba, Chiquito, and Hannah!

[caption id="attachment_1143" align="aligncenter" width="600"] Yes we were a little tired, but we were ready![/caption]

I posted this photo on instagram it had me thinking about all the filter options we have on Instagram and how silly most of them are.  I was acutely going to write a whole post about the questions I have about Instagram while I am choosing a filter.

If I were to have written a post on the Instagram filter choices I am offered I would have asked questions like this:

Why would I ever want to look like a sunburnt Oompa Looma? Kelvin and Toaster I am looking at you! 



 

Also when did it become acceptable to look like a ghost again?  Actually was it ever acceptable to look like a ghost if  your name isn't Casper?

That is right Sierra and Amaro, not to be confused with Alamo (I'll never forget) Why so pale?





And why is is so hard to choose between Walden and Nashville?  

Perhaps I am just drawn to each because or personal bias. Henry David Thoreau I love you buddy.  Nashville, you are the home to my future country star boyfriend Kip Moore.  I love you both.  Please don't make me choose?





Kip Moore, I mean Nashville, you won tonight, your tones of pink were just calling to me.  No, 1977 not that much pink!



 

I was also going to write about the filters on Instagram and how they are different when you try and upload a video.  When you think you are choosing Mayfair you are really choosing Vespar which I think the world really needs to be aware of.

I promise you one of the hardest choices I have to make every day is which Instagram filter I am going to use.  I do not have real problems.

But I decided not to write about Instagram today.  Instead I decided to share a little story with you about how I had to prepare for Armageddon last night.

[caption id="attachment_1151" align="aligncenter" width="600"] Ladies, I know we have all been there right?[/caption]

What is it about Armageddon that makes me want to eat disgusting food like Chili Cheese Fritos?  I guess it is the feeling of impending doom, but there is no science to back me up on that one.

Anyway, last night I knew what was coming and I knew I was ill prepared, so before puppy class I stopped by Walgreens to pick up the necessary supplies to help prepare me for my date with destiny.

I quickly navigated the isles and found my snacks and water and found the pink box in the middle on sale for $8.99.  I always get excited when something I have to buy is on sale.  I then took my three items to the check out lady, thank God it was a lady, sister knew what was happening and gave me the kind, knowing eyes everyone gives when Armageddon is about to befall the land.

She rang up my snacks, but could not ring up the most important item.  She then picked up her phone and called for a price check on the pink box items over the loud speaker.

Hello young man in his 30s that just walked into the store, thank you for making clear and direct eye contact with my pink box and me.  

A lady with red hair wandered the isle where such items could be found, but was unable to find the price.  I decided my dignity was already gone why not spend more time in the pink box isle?  I walked over to show here where I found them and the price sticker that read $8.99 that was listed below the item.  She said "No that isn't it," and walked away.

I went back to the cash register to wait for the price.  Minutes seemed like days and all I could think about were by chili cheese friend waiting to be in my belly.  

Eventually Red Hair came back with the verdict, "They are $9.49" she proclaimed in a huff of price power.

"I showed you where they were marked $8.99 though," I said meekly.  

"No they weren't they are $9.49," Red Hair said decisively.  She then glanced at my pink box as if to say, don't let your turmoil of emotions because of Armageddon rule your logically functioning brain and walked away in victory.

I slowly slid my debit card in the machine knowing I had no argument even though I was right.  I made one last plea to the cashier that I was right, but I did not desire to cause a scene over 50 cents.  I just wanted her to validate that I was not crazy.  She just looked at me and my supplies to survive the week and shrugged her shoulders. 

Defeated I walked away, betrayed by my own kind.  Handed over to what laid ahead only to know that I was swindled out of fifty cents and the only reason I was not validated was the clear signs of doom about to wage war inside my own body.

Armageddon, you vested me this time, but be warned I will win next month when I go to Target and buy a basket full of stuff and hide any trace that you may be near with toothpaste, trash bags, and items from the dollar bins I will never actually use.