InnerTeub

Back when @MooseTheDog was a puppy, Mike and I would play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who had to respond to the 4am puppy whine of death.

You know the one. It’s cute. It’s pathetic. It’s the sound of your puppy about to pee on your carpet. It’ll get you out of bed quickly, except for one thing: We got Moose in January. It’s COLD out in January, and our front door is on the second floor of the building, which means that every time that dog needs to go outside, it’s all shoes and coats and leashes and it’s a THING, not just an “open the dog, out with you, DOG!” situation.

Anyway. We were equitable about this. Rock, Paper, Scissors is a totally fair way to determine who has get up and walk the dog. You can’t complain if you lose, or gloat if you win, because it’s not like you’re doing him a FAVOR by taking out the dog – you lost the game. It’s a binding ruling. It’s just the way things are, no grumbling allowed.

Of course I took this opportunity to run my own little social experiment: I wanted to see how long it would take Mike to realize I was throwing “rock” Every Single Time. (Answer: about two months, although I think it’s possible he caught on quicker than that and was just fucking with me. In fact, now that I think about that, it’s highly likely. Damnit])

ANYWAY. MY POINT: I got this in my email box today and giggled for about thirty minutes straight:

Suck it, paper. I knew rock should win everytime.