Li'l NeighborWife is learning to drive 2-ton Postal Vehicles and since she would normally hide Asshead for me at her house, I had to run home during lunch so that I could grab the dog and let the potential buyers peruse the house without the fear of getting their ASSES bitten (she does this, it's not pretty).

I got home, did a quick cleaning, leashed up Asshead, and headed out the door the exact second that the Realtor and his clients were headed up the walk. RealtorGuy, being very friendly, came up to me quickly with his hand out. Asshead didn't appreciate this 'aggressive' movement towards her boy. I yanked her away from him and back into submission. He was cool, knelt and stuck his hand out, palm down. She wagged excitedly and licked his hand. We were all friends (insert gayass music here).

"Hmmm," I thought, "wonder why the potential buyers are both busting out those funky batons-connected-by-string measuring stick thingies, the house has already been measured by my Realtor. And why are they both wearing extremely dark sunglasses INSIDE the house?"

You may or may not know this about me, but I can be pretty fucking dense sometimes.

Granted, my concentration was focused on Asshead, who was beaten regularly as a puppy (by her previous owners, jerk, not me), and wigs her fucking-shit-out whenever someone has a stick-like object in their hands. She will growl, spit, and attack anything from a broom, to a rake, to a hockey stick, so, when two strangers are making their way towards her with twin cattle-prods, tap-tap-tapping on the floor... yeah, she wigged her fucking-shit-out. I settled her down though, at least enough so that she wouldn't maim the people that I want to give me a couple hundred thousand dollars.

Then, it finally hit me, and I got a little annoyed.

"They're fucking BLIND?!? You mean, I ran around with a fucking rag, wiping all the 'dirty' surfaces and making things visually presentable, when all I really had to do was squirt some Vanilla Extract on the stove burners and not fart in the bedroom?"

Thinking quickly, I threw Asshead in the truck, raced back inside, and shut the closet door to somehow try and cover the stench of shoe that resides within. I had another sparkling idea, but I figured their Realtor would Narc on me if I followed them around randomly spritzing air freshener several feeet in front of them. He was already growing suspicious of the fact that I threw a whole Lemon in the Sink Disposal, and the way that I was flapping my hand over the plate of brownies and wasn't really eating, nor offering, any of them.

I think he bought it when I told him I 'accidentally' spilled that whole bottle of cologne though.

Surprisingly, they haven't called yet.