So the back story on this is that Chris and I were forced to live with a nervous wreck of a greyhound racing dog rescue named Huggy Bear after our other roommate Carolyn smoked too much pot one night and after watching a documentary on the dog racing industry decided to leave the next morning and drive to North Carolina to adopt one of these beasts. Now I love dogs, but this dog was CRAZY! It literally cried the second Carolyn left for school, at like 8am which in college talk is like the break of dawn, until she came home much later in the afternoon. It ate through one of our doors, peed on everything, took up way too much room as it's giant horse body knocked us off our tiny couch and eventually attacked and killed a friend's cat. We tried to train Huggy Bear by squirting him with a water bottle when he was bad or taking a newspaper and tapping his cage and saying, "NO!", but one morning I awoke to the usual howling and crying accompanied by Chris screaming, "Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up" repeatedly while banging her own head against the wall. Poor Huggy Bear, he was really a hot ass mess from the whole racing industry, but Chris and I were at the end of our rope. One night, after drinking too much Boones Farm, we sat around and dreamed of ways to torture Huggy Bear, and it became our favorite past time next to finding pieces of furniture people were throwing away and putting them in each other's rooms. It became our only sanity, our sense of survival. Never in a million years would we ever act on these fantasies of demise to Huggy Bear, but a girl can dream. Carolyn finally realized that Huggy Bear wasn't meshing well with our household and moved to the country so Huggy Bear could run free and kill all the fuzzy rabbits he could catch. The end.