But another reason I can't stay mad at the Missaroo has to do with the ridiculousness of the situation ((and I'm not talking Jersey Shore)) Last night was a prime example. After a long day and a couple of walks, all I wanted to do was go to bed. Like always, Missy had some other ideas. The night before I stayed up with her just so she could chew on her bone, but I knew today was an early rise, all day event so I needed to get some sleep. I was trying to push her out of the way with my body as I tugged on the covers to get comfortable. That's when she got me right in the face with her nose and I told her to get her face out of my face, but it came out more like GET YOUR FACE OUTTA MY FACE WOULD YA? GEESH! And that's when I realized I sounded like an old school ((think Joe Pesci circa 1992)) Italian mobster. And I was trying to intimate my dog. I started to giggle under the covers and Missy attacked, but it wasn't long before we were curled up like a couple of bugs in a rug. Get your face out of my face, who says that?