killa ate it.

i have to ask the universe at large to send me some sort of magical solution to getting my dog, killa cali, the destructor, to stop eating everything. i mean, everything. it's unreal. everything that isn't something designed specifically for her to eat. i'm at the end of my rope here, universe. help me. please.

i know, i know, it's called training. but to quote garden state, who has time to train them? i mean, honestly?

at this point, i've basically given up on the sanctity of my material posessions. it's all i can do to keep constant track of my cell phone and walkman, the two things i would not be able to function properly without and/or don't have the money to replace. but everything else is just too numerous, and well...there, for me to keep constant track of. i'm almost out of shoes, for christsake. and our coffee table now has four, jaggedly rounded corners. we can no longer watch dvd's, as killa saw fit to consume the remote control. for the second time.

charles and i were in the process of penning a song, entitled 'killa ate it' but i realize that it would require a song of a length that would make r. kelly proud to list all the things that killa has, in fact, eaten. so now i think that we'd just be better off sticking with the things she's managed to avoid. it's a short list.