Beginning on Thursday, I was staying at Pickles house and dog-sitting. As I've mentioned before Pickles is a Welsh Corgi who was rescued from a breeding mill. He's a sweetheart who's mostly obedient, but has a little spunk. On Friday, three of my co-workers were playing against each other (two on one team, one from the other team) in a softball game in Red Bud, Illinois. So, I took Pickles to Red Bud to watch the game. He did really well, but the humans, not so much. It was really hot, so I brought his water dish, but I had left it in the car. I sat down to watch the game, but I spent the first half of the first inning listening to the people behind me talking non-stop about their terrible neighbor who leaves their dog chained in the front yard without any shade and without water. I got the point and got the water. Pickles did not drink a drop of water throughout the entire game. I enjoyed the game even though it was so incredibly hot. At one point, I even thought it must be nice to live in a small town where everybody knows one another and then I was walking back to my car with the dog and he stopped to pee. I didn't stop to let him pee, he just did it on his own and some bitch behind me started talking loud enough for me to hear about how horrible it is my dog peed at the park. I wanted to turn around and tell her what a whore-bag she was and what a great parent she must be to have her kid out so late at night, but I couldn't because I didn't know who she was related to. Then I decided living in a small town isn't that great at all.
Sunday was Father's Day. My parents drove up with family friends and we all went to see "Wicked" at The Fox. This was the third time I've seen this play, twice in St. Louis and once in Chicago. The play was still pretty awesome. I wore a black dress with knee-high green and black striped socks in honor of the wicked witch. I got a few comments, but I didn't have to kick an old lady's ass, so that was good.
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