Mr. Big is depressed

Mr. Big is depressed. He had to leave his girlfriend, Sugar Pie, behind in Richmond. Sugar was the love of his life, even though they had both been fixed. She was a beautiful, sugar-white Standard Poodle, and although not eaten up with the smarts, she had a sweet and gentle nature. Mr. Big really believed he was MR. BIGGIE BIG BIG when he was in the paws of Sugar Pie, all 5 pounds of him. They had been in a committed, exclusive relationship for 4 years. Ever since he arrived in Chester, Biggie pined for Miss Sugar Pie. I decided to buy him some gourmet doggie food to cheer him up. He usually got just dry kibble, but now he had a tasty smorgasbord of meaty pouches: lamb and rice with gravy, beef tips and peas, chicken with roasted vegetables. I also purchased slow roasted crunchy bones and pouches of moist doggie hamburgers. Every time he would gaze out the window with those sad little eyes, I'd run get him a treat. Then he threw up all over the bed at five o'clock this morning. Pity party is over. Back to kibble. Tough love. Friday is my favorite day of college. We have no classes, and I had planned to sleep til noon. Turned off the cell phone, unplugged the land line, I'm getting my weekly quota of sleep today. Until doggie therapy backfired and I was doing laundry as the sun came up. If he had only been allowed to have extra-marital sex, none of this would have happened. Let me explain. In Afro-American studies, we had an exercise this week in values. If you agreed with something, you raised your hand. If you strongly agreed, you waved your hand. If you disagreed, you lowered your hand, and if you strongly disagreed, you lowered your hand and waved it. This is how the exercise went: First question: do you believe in pre-marital sex? Sissey's hand immediately went down and was waving like mad. Next: do you support programs that help the homeless. Hand went up. Third: would you take illegal drugs. Hand lowered, waving away. Finally: do you believe in extra-marital sex. That little hand shot up in the air, waving like a banshee. My jaw dropped, I snapped my head around to stare at her, and mouthed, "What are you doing?" She leaned over and whispered, "What does that mean?" Quietly, I explained the concept of adultery as I watched her eyes widen in horror. She whispered back, "I thought it meant "Extra" MARITAL sex, you know, extra sex between MARRIED people. I thought that was a good idea. All married people should be doing that." That little hand shot down so fast and started waving for all she was worth, and I realized we had a lot of educating to do. We're going to learn a lot in college. If Mr. Big had been having some of that extra-marital sex, we wouldn't have needed doggie therapy, I wouldn't have been washing sheets at 5 in the morning, my sleep quota for the week would be met, and we'd all be happy. Moral of the story: All married couples should be having lots of extra-marital sex, or else you will throw up all over your sheets.