My friend (I’ll call her Mary Alien) has a bulldog named Boris.  Bulldogs rock.  (I remember one time in a University class we were supposed to share one thing about ourselves & I shared that it was a dream of mine to have a bulldog named Penelope.  It took months before people would speak to me in that class.)  Anyhow, this Boris the bulldog is the most adorable, wonderful creature.  He’s grossly obese, mind you.  And he farts like you wouldn’t believe.  Drools, as well.  But completely adorable. 

One time I was at a pet store and I had an urge to buy a fish (it might have been the same urge that compelled me to purchase a Shitzu in Costco instead of the V8 juice I was supposed to pick up).  Anyhow, I bought the one fish (against the advice of the pet store people) that had a deformed bulging eye.  On those kind of fish, their eyes are supposed to bulge.  But ONE of this guy’s eyes was three times bulgier.  “Deformed” they told me.  I thought he was quite fabulous.

And Gregory House.  Ahhh… So vicious - ugly personality, really - but we can’t help but love him.

So why are ugly things so good?  And if they are, why do we still buy orchids, stare at full moons, obsess over Angelina,  sneak orange Gerber Daisies into our shopping carts and lie on blankets in the snow to see the Northern Lights?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 30th, 2007 at 6:50 am. You can leave a comment below.