Thursday, April 28, 2011

On the next episode of Hoarders....Puppypalooza.

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I have a dog obsession.  I'm like a dog whisperer, only without the whisper part. Because I haven't yet mastered talking baby talk in a whisper.  If C would allow it, I would probably get a Duggar-sized pack of dogs.

I am puppy-sitting for a couple days to a Paul Bunyan sized dog. For the sake of puppy confidentiality we will call him Rod. Because let's be honest..nothing is funnier than a human-named dog. Except a dog named Rod. Or anyone named Rod for that matter.  Rod is supposedly a puppy. I just think he is a wizard. He weighs like 306 lbs and is probably approaching 7 feet tall.  His nose alone is the size of my face. I feel like I'm in a real-life version of Clifford the Big Red Dog with a side of Honey I Shrunk the Kids.  I would love to see the mother dog that birthed this mythical creature. She was definitely porking King Kong on the DL. He must have had to eat his way out of her belly like a savage...leaving no evidence behind.  I am also convinced that Rod's siblings must have been teacup-sized because he has a Buddy the Elf complex.  This morning he tried to squeeze through a miniaturized cat door. I got nervous I would have to go to the store to buy a tub of Crisco.  And then the cashier would think I'm a fat lard-ass who sits around eating Crisco all day with a spoon then rolls around in it in the nude.  Because that's what I would think if I saw someone buy Crisco.  Anyways, Rod is like that illusive fictional man's best friend dog that only exists in Lassie reruns.  If I sleepwalked outside in winter with no long johns and holey uggs and fell in a well right before a giant anaconda swam by followed by J.Lo and some mother fuckin' snakes on a plane....ya Rod would rescue me.  He would do it because he has superhero powers.  He's better than Lassie and Captain Planet. He's Rod. 

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Tug-Ahoy!

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I've recently discovered the TLC show Strange Sex.  It is my new guilty pleasure.  A man that uses his thumb as a surrogate penis, a married couple with no teeth that are swingers, balloon fetishes, and a woman with two vaginas!  This is like circus freak stuff.  And how could you not love a circus freak?!  However, what I found most fascinating was the man who was TO'd that his greedy mother had stolen his 24k gold plated foreskin.  And his biggest complaint seemed to be that he lasted too long in bed.  Oh his poor wife...tear.  So he decided to be all MacGuyver and build a foreskin-making machine.  I hope we are on the same page here and you are also having a mental image of a cross between an easy-bake oven and the cabbage patch doll whos hair would grow when you pulled on it.  He called his invention The Tugger.  Somebody hand this man a f-ing Nobel Prize.  Like yesterday.  I'm not sure that the end result was a new foreskin, however it did manage to turn his penis inside out.  It looked like it was wearing a stylish turtle-neck.  Wait...turtle-necks are not stylish.  So neither was his penis.  Then this man went all entrepreneur like Oprah and the Donald and got his whole family to mass market these pork tuggies.  It must have been such a bonding experience for him and his pre-teen daughters. Oh and his wife's post-tuggie analysis-it was soft and squishy.  Uh huh...

So this new age Albert Einstein got me thinking about the foreskin battle.  Seeing as it is getting less and less common to be circumsized, it makes me curious what the current baby-making generation think about this debate.


And in case you or someone you know can't stand one more day with his mushroom friend, you can always consider ordering The Tugger. Move over pillow pet, you're getting sent to the clearance bin with the snuggie.  Your endcap must be cleared because Bed Bath and Beyond will for sure order a gaggle of these.

Monday, April 18, 2011

C has the most thoughtful wife...EVER.

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So somewhere in the past 24 hours 3 weeks, I unknowingly fell off the blog wagon.  C says the red flags were there all along but he didn't know how to break it to me.  Glad to know he cares.  I'll make sure to jot in my calendar to never develop a drug or drinking problem or attempt a self-induced death.  Because God knows when he'd warn me about those blazing red flags.  I told C recently if I ever died he had to wait at least 10 years to remarry.  I'm thinking of changing it to 15 years...seems more reasonable.  And she isn't allowed to have a tramp stamp. Because that's my thing.  I did however allot him the following options which I think are more than fair: she can be any age above 50, she can be a born-again Christian who has vowed to die a virgin, she can be anyone in a coma or bed-ridden, and...well ya that's about it. There are legal things you can sign for stuff like this, right?   I also know if you are rich enough you can freeze yourself in hopes that you will be revived in the future.    But I think Tupac and Michael Jackson have been secretly cryogenically frozen, which is scary, so let's rule out that option. I think Kim Cattrall was in a movie about this...called Ice Princess or something.  C should be so thankful to have a wife that has planned out his future if I croak in an untimely manner.  I think I'll call him now and remind him of this.  Maybe he will bring me home flowers.

Here are some possible options I have found for C which I think are more than reasonable-
She's exotic..that's always good

Rebound material?

Not sure if this is a woman..but either way...

Everyone loves a redhead, right?

He could even date someone FAMOUS!

Catlady even!

Nothing's too expensive for my baby!!