the ox and the dog.

There is this about the Ox: she is a born leader. She is dependable. She is possessed of an innate ability to accomplish great things. She is a tireless worker who believes in doing things right the first time. She is stubborn and dogmatic, a my-way-or-the-highway kind of person who has no concept of when to back down. She can't be bothered with what other people think and prefers to do what makes her feel best.

The Ox: "Does this make me look fat?"

Friend: "Did you just ask me--?"

The Ox: "No."

Friend: "Okay, because I thought you just asked me--"

The Ox: "I just ask because it doesn't make Barbie look fat."

Friend: "You're not Barbie."

The Ox: "You think if I dyed my hair?"

Friend: "Barbie's white, chickie."

The Ox: "Colored contacts?"

Friend: "--Aren't going to make you white."

The Ox: "I don't want to be white."

Friend: "That's good."

The Ox: "I just want to be Barbie."

Friend: "What, plastic? Anorexic? White?"

The Ox: "Is that bad?"

Friend: "I hear being black is cooler, these days."

The Ox: "Oh. Then I want to be black. Yo."

Friend: "I don't think you'd look good, black."

The Ox: "I wouldn't?"

Friend: "I think you look just fine being Asian."

The Ox: "I'm not Asian."

Friend: "Okay, whatever you are."

The Ox: "I'm white."

Friend: "Shouldn't you be heading back to work?"

The Ox: "Work?"

There is this about the Dog: he is loyal, faithful and honest. He has a firm code of ethics. He has trouble trusting others. He is trustworthy himself -- except for the occasional "little white lies" he tells in order to make things go more smoothly. He makes a wonderful, discreet and loyal friend (despite any white lies) and is an excellent listener.

The Ox: "Want to hear a couple of really stupid stories?"

The Dog: "Is this going to be a story about work?"

The Ox: "No."

The Dog: "Okay, because if it's about work, you should expect that I won't be very interested."

The Ox: "What?"

The Dog: "I'll pretend that I'm listening but I won't be. I'll just nod my head a couple of times and make noises like I'm agreeing with you."

The Ox: "They're not stories about work."

The Dog: "Mm hm. That's nice. Okay."

The Ox always found the whole concept of zodiacs rather silly, though in that narcissistic way that one-way reflective glass is silly; knowing that someone might be looking at one and just as easily might not, one still presents one's best side, and glances sideways at one's reflection to make sure one looks hot for the complete (if any) stranger standing on the other side. Not that the Ox ever does that, of course. This is simply a, um, example.

There is a stealthy, ego-stroking pleasure in the illusion of grandeur, in the notion that there are entire galaxies adjusting themselves overhead to help determine the course of one's personality, not to mention one's entire existence.

The Chinese zodiac only rambles into the Ox's peripheral vision once or twice a year. Usually when the Dog brings it up. The Dog, being -- forgive this humble scribe -- dogmatic about his beliefs (when he chooses) occasionally resurrects this amazingly unreliable means of predicting the future to launch monkey wrenches into the course of his relationship with the Ox.

For instance.

Said the Dog: "We can't have a baby next year. It'll be a rooster. I can't have a kid who's a rooster. We'll never get along."

Said the Ox, wisely: "It wouldn't matter what sign your children are born under. They'll be your children. You won't get along anyway."

The Dog: "You'll have to wait until ... hm. I get along with Monkeys. You could have a baby this year."

The Ox: "We're getting married in June."

The Dog: "If you get pregnant now--"

The Ox: "Listen good, little man. There will never be a child born in our household born under any sign that involves monkeys or the color purple. Sink that thought firmly into your spongey little brain."

The Dog: "You're trying to sabotage my relationship with my children."

The Ox: "No Monkeys!"

Yesterday, after a long hiatus of sanity, the Dog paged the Ox with some excitement. "Look," he said. "This is our relationship. Oh no. There's trouble in the fourth quarter for you. Oh, and for me, too. Oh no."

The Dog was sounding anxious. His tail was tucking nervously between his legs. Skeptical, the Ox went to investigate, and was momentarily lulled into a feeling of narcissistic awe. "That is exactly our relationship," she paged back. "That's so cool."

Which was, it transpired, the exact thing to say to make the Dog lose all faith in the stars. "Orderly?" he sniggered. "You're orderly?"

"I have an orderly spirit," the Ox said with great dignity, because the Ox does not approve of being mocked.

"Is that what it is?" said the Dog. Despite the fact that the entire conversation was done through Yahoo Instant Messenger, the Ox could hear distinctly the peals of mirth occuring in the background.

And really, biologically speaking, who ever heard of an Ox and a Dog getting together anyway? You want to talk about unnatural--

In other news: a tribute to my people. Or something. The Guy claims the third bobble from the right reminds him of me. I fail to see the resemblance.