Mystery Dog Makes Big Debut
And the case of the deadly Zara pants.
Messketeers! I missed you! How are you!?
How are we all breathing in this toxic Canadian sludge air followed by a beautiful toxic sludge torrential downpour? Will the wonders of climate change never cease (they will not).
As I mentioned last week, I went to my friend Rosie’s wedding and it was outrageously gorgeous and fun. I took literally one picture all weekend as I was so busy dancing, screaming, and running about chatting with everyone. It was a beautiful homegrown affair from top to bottom. Everything was handmade or thrifted, everything was cooked, arranged, and sewn by a loved one, and the whole thing was pulled off without a hitch in her parents’ backyard with the help of all of their friends and family. Truly, the perfect testament to the type of love those two have and inspire in others.
In more pedestrian news, something I’ve noticed about myself at work recently is that I’ve started calling everyone “brother” in a completely sincere, Hulk Hogan-esque fashion. I have no idea where this rhetorical flourish stems from, but I actually cannot stop myself from doing it. I’ve suddenly been granted acute insight into the straight, male psyche, and I am here to report back to you all that they’re actually really on to something with this whole generic platonic pet name thing and we must reclaim it for ourselves, brothers!
Also, did I tell you guys already that I have been living through the most Mercury Retrograde Mercury Retrograde of my entire life? It has been a deeply humbling couple of weeks. An endless technological hell of my own making really, featuring one cosmic joke after the next. I accidentally got candle wax down my sink and clogged it, my bluetooth headphones will no longer pair to anything I own despite having been paired to everything I own for the last decade, my computer shut down randomly mid project, and two of my credit cards decided they are locked apropos of nothing. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Simply incredible.
Today’s headline comes to you courtesy of this amazingly insane Page Six headline:
This turn of phrase is currently rivaling brother for vocal stim of the month in my brain. Ah, to be the T&T mystery dog! Let alone the T&T mystery dog making its grand Floridian debut at Trump International Airport!!!! Many were surprised that this is the breed the newlyweds went with, but a Samoyed being their dog of choice actually makes a little too much sense to me. Especially given the intense upkeep costs on such a thick, pristine white coat—this is a billionaire canine flex. On the subject of the vast amounts of capital visibly poured into this creature, I am disappointed to see that the dog appears to be trained to within an inch of its life because I would actually find it infinitely more humanizing if these two androids had an absolute little scamp as a pet. Wouldn’t you just love to see him zigging and zagging about the tarmac as Taylor screams from within her impromptu cabana of assistants wielding blackout umbrellas to, “GET THE HELL BACK HERE ALREADY!” Alas.
The only other pop culture news that’s been dominating the week is Ariana Grande getting back together with her ex-boyfriend Ricky because she adamantly refuses to be alone with her thoughts for a solitary second. Not that I particularly care. I only bring it up because I need everyone to know the only important piece of information about Ricky, which is that he’s the guy from the “I hate America” donut video. These kids grow up so fast!!!
Ok, buckaroos. Let’s giddy up.
