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Tuesday, October 19, 2004 There is a bitter, bitter glory hound in most of us, I think. It hides in the guerilla thickets in our minds, unchained when the fortuitious time comes. When the boss gives you the oh-so lame tap on the back, just like what those self-improvement books say bosses should do and dole out in generous servings. That tap of encouragement is the glory hound's Pavlov's bell. Once rung, watch the inner glory hound salivate and drool at the prospect of a Purina chow promotion.I can smell an unleashed glory hound from miles and miles away. And its repugnant fur oil lubricant stench can not be concealed by pretty boy musks, signature colognes, eau de toilette. For over a decade, I have seen glory hounds pitch feverish territorial pissings. Right now, my glory hound growls and quivers, roused from stupor by the adrenaline-spiked aroma of prowling glory hounds in my miniature corporate-dom. Down, boy. Down.
posted by Alexis at 8:54 PM |
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