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There’s this building in West Hollywood (Los Angeles) that looks like a Wedding Cake. One day someone will find teeth marks in its wall, and don’t come knocking on my door. I know nuthin’.

Happy Sunday!

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Two reason’s for that.

1. I have those photos of Jason. Those photos are very… special. Thus it is mandatory I publish them and let them go viral ASAP.

2. According to MY calendar, tomorrow is the National Lamb Roasting Day. Hence, I know I’ll be rending lots of fat in the kitchen (that of the meat in the oven along with my own) all day Sunday with mediocre chances of surfacing before sunset.

Let me set this up.

It’s Saturday late morning. Jason is doing some manly works around the house. He had patched up some holes in our living-room ceiling a while back, after having a chandelier hung. All there was left to do was to sand them down and paint over. Today is the day.

I’m off to run errands.

Cosmo? Well, he doesn’t give two green grasshoppers about what’s going on around since no one shows any interest in chasing him around the dining table. Off he goes to his room to play video games and watch some free porn online.

Some time later, exhausted, he snoozes off.

I am done with the bank, the grocery store, and a few other irrelevant nuances off my agenda, and I head back home. The sun is frying my brain over-easy. The traffic is irrational. All these people, instead of crowding the streets, should be out on the beach! The key word is OUT.

It’s really hot. Can you tell I’m feeling fragile?

I walk into our house through the back door, and as I approach the living room I am suddenly blinded. Lightning shoots through the air, sinister wind blows through the bathroom window, swirls around the house and swipes me off my feet. And right then, as I bang my delicate seat on the floor and unfold my body into a supine position I have a premonition. A clear vision of what’s coming. The image is so clear I get to learn what my Jason will look like in 50 years…

The experience is bewildering!

And the dust from sanding the ceiling covers every inch of the house. It is E V E R Y W H E R E. The vacuum cleaner can’t stand still in the corner already excited about its upcoming task. I am speechless. Jason looks at me with that innocent expression of a 5-year old who claims: “I haven’t seen any cookies!” with chocolate smeared all over his face. Then ma’ man slowly inches away from the table thus revealing THIS:

An artist I fell in love with, I tell you.

I want to introduce a new addition to this public rambling of mine, one more bite if you will, that I am calling SUNDAY BITES. It’s here where I’ll bring all the random pieces of furniture that don’t necessary belong to my main topic–FOOD.

But then again, I’m not a big fan of rules and limitations, so don’t point fingers and throw lemon pies at me when I take the wrong turn one day in this maze of pages and categories. Inspiration does not make appointments and visits randomly on all days of the week.

I was looking through the millions of my photos earlier today and couldn’t believe how many pictures of Cosmo there are hiding in all these boring folders on my computer instead of being seen in the day light. For they are worth it, and Cosmo deserves it. Today is the night when I will finally show the two faces of my dog to the world. There are many more, but these stand out, especially when juxtaposed against each other.

Here is our Macho Dog, who rides a Harley-Davidson, chain smokes and picks up girls in skimpy outfits at bars in the dark alley. He hangs out with the guys and wins all the burping competitions. he’s also pretty damn good with spitting peanut shells far beyond the trash container in the back of the house. He scratches his balls (or the place they used to be rather) every five minutes, and snacks on beef jerky.

Look closely and remember that face. Know how lucky you are for not being able to smell his breath and the stench of the half-digested beer coming out through his pores.

Now it’s time to introduce Cosmo once again after his visit to the groomer. That’s our Recherché Dog, who writes poetry and sings with the church choir every Sunday. He also, that goes without saying, never farts in public. He color-coordinates his outfits, keeps a journal and watches the “Anne of Green Gables” movie every first Friday of the month. He doesn’t think much of other dogs and always chooses to cuddle with his Mama (me) instead. Also, though it’s slightly embarrassing, he insists on having a napkin tucked under his collar when served his meal.

Have you seen those lips? They’re soft and silky thanks to the lip lube he slathers all over his mouth every 10 minutes or so. Our Recherché Dog is a true gentleman.

Yes, it is the same dog on both photos, our pride and joy, our apple in the eye–Cosmo. And it’s only the beginning.

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