Sir Reality

As we contemplated IG rescue last year, Dan read me the description of a dog that sounded promising. When he told me its name, what he said was "Tippy," but what I heard was "Tippi," and what I pictured was this:

That's how gay I am.

Seriously, though, wouldn't that scene be hilarious with a pack of skinny little dogs being chased by the birds? No! With Tippi and the children being chased by flying IGs! Brilliant!

Naturally, I was disappointed to learn the dog's real name. (We never found out how he got it. He wasn't missing a leg, so maybe vertigo? A drinking problem?) But I'm hardly a stranger to disillusionment. For years David and Christie Brinkley lived happily in my mind as father and daughter (he was quite proud of her) until the evening Dan and Marty rudely informed me otherwise.

I'm constantly reminded that the version of reality outside my head tends to be far less colorful than its counterpart within. Not always, but often.* And that makes me feel sorry for you.

Here's something I just found that we can all appreciate:

*Not valid in Florida or New Jersey.