Dante the curry loving dog and... a cute nerd list

• It's cute, but I'll post it 'cos it's fun. It's the story of a doggie that loves his curry:
  ...Dante has such a taste for tandoori that he refuses to eat normal dog food and regularly turns up outside his local take aways and restaurants begging for curry.
  Unfortunately poor Dante developed bowel trouble as a result of his preferences, and the vet nixed his curry munching days. Luckily, a local restauranteur stepped in:
  ...Mohammed Asdar Ali, who owns the Village Tandoori on Beech Road, Chorlton, took pity on him and created a healthy dog-friendly chicken balti dish which will not inflame Dante’s bowel problems.
  Nothing like a good curry. Dante seems like a most discerning doggy.
• And since we have that out the way, I may as well follow it up by recommending John Dyer's 'Top 1010 Clues that You're at a Really Good Nerd Party.' OK, enough cute stuff. I'm done.
  

Memory: celebrating the end of high school

• I graduated from Milnerton High School in 1986, and had a quite satisfying celebration thereof at the beach. I first bought a 12-pack of beer then boarded the Melkbosstrand bus up the coast. The beer of choice at that time would probably have been either Castle or Carling. Anyway, I got off at a stop somewhere along the coast road, then walked until I was alone on the beach, something easier to do in those days.
  It was a hot afternoon, and the beer very enjoyable. I kept it cold by burying it in the sand, just a little ways into the water. I then proceeded to relax, contemplate my life, and drink beer. Doesn't get much better.
  At about my fourth beer, a dog approached me. I petted it a little, but it wasn't interested in scratches behind the ear. It seemed to want to tell me something. Actually, it was kind of like a stereotypical "dog wants me to follow him" scene in a movie. The dog would come close to me, bump me with his head or suchlike, then trot off down the beach and look back at me expectantly, as if to say, "come on, come on!"
  It must have been a little frustrating for the dog, as I did not in fact follow it. Perhaps someone had fallen down a well, perhaps he was a spirit guide. I dunno. I proceeded to carry on drinking beer, and started discussing philosophy with the dog. And telling him my thoughts. He became my confident.
  When the dog realized that I was not going to follow him, he wandered off, presumably to find someone more receptive.
  And shortly thereafter I lost my beer. I had not marked the spot in which I had buried it well enough, and very little distinguishes one piece of beach sand from another. Soon the beach was full of holes as I tried to find the remaining cold cans. But to no avail.
  So I got the bus back home. I got quite a sunburn, but it was a good time.