I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her prancing around in her elaborate witch costume, complete with a matching mini-hat and cape for *Charlie*—her beloved Shih Tzu. And don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween as much as the next person, but she dropped **five hundred dollars** on these costumes. Five hundred. Dollars. For a matching ensemble with her *dog.*
Meanwhile, here we are, carefully budgeting for groceries and figuring out how to make the most of our paycheck for the month. Yet she’s out here treating this dog like her soulmate, her little partner in crime. She even mentioned planning a photoshoot so they can have “memories of this year’s theme.” Memories?! For a dog?!
Then it hit me: she actually *does* treat him like a family member. She’s constantly calling Charlie her “baby” and talking about how he’s the “only one who truly understands her.” She even joked about putting him in her will once. I thought it was funny at first, but now I’m not so sure it’s a joke.
Now, part of me wants to laugh it off, but the other part can’t help but feel a bit resentful. Is it crazy to think there’s something a little… off here? Like, it’s fine to have fun with Halloween, but at what cost? I can’t help but feel like all this is masking something deeper—maybe she’s lonely, or maybe it’s just a quirky obsession. But no matter how I try to see it, I can’t shake the feeling that her priorities are, well, *somewhere else entirely.*
So, am I overreacting here, or does this seem just as absurd to you as it does to me? Because I can’t help but wonder what will happen next. I’m just waiting for the day she announces a full-blown dog wedding, and I’ll be expected to RSVP.
An old man was eating at a truck stop when three rough-looking bikers walked in.
Three gruff-appearing bikers entered the truck stop where an elderly man was dining.
The first biker chuckled and sat down at the counter after poking his cigarette into the elderly man’s pie as they passed him.
Taking up the old man’s milk, the second motorcyclist spat into it. Before stepping up to the counter with the other bikers, the third one turned over the old man’s plate.
Putting down his money, the old man stood up and walked out of the café without a word to the laughing bikers. The waitress heard one of the bikers ask, “Not much of a man, was he?”
Furthermore, not much of a truck driver, the waitress retorted. Just now, he backed his large vehicle over three motorcyclists!
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