"It's like kicking a dead chicken over and over again."
-Me, yeah I meant horse...never been too savvy with the sayings.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Quotes that don't make sense
"I have opinions of my own --strong opinions-- but I don't always agree with them."
- George Bush
- George Bush
Friday, May 8, 2009
Quotes that don't make sense
"I think gay marriage is something that should be between a man and a woman"
- Arnold Schwarzenegger
- Arnold Schwarzenegger
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Min Pin Nightmare Take 2
You may want to read my previous post if you haven't to understand the nightmare that I am in...
I know what your thinking...adorable....right? Wrong!
In the saga of the min pin nightmare I've got some bad news and I've got some good news. The bad news? IT (as in the horny little min pin) is still feverishly in love with my male dog. And even though my dog has got sixty pounds on this little rat, IT still pines after my dog with that sex-crazed look in his eye.
Unrequited loves a bitch. I get it. But I am seriously considering castrating the dog myself Lorena Bobbitt style.
Meanwhile I’m feeling horribly guilty because the reason why they asked me to watch their dog in the first place is because I’m a total animal lover.
Listen to Bob Barker people and spay and neuter your pets!!!
The good news?
I begged a friend to take the dog after he gets out of school. Which is douchetacular! I basically told him that if he didn't come get the dog that either me, my husband, or my dog, may kill IT. My friend laughed, disturbed that a bleeding heart animal lover such as myself couldn't handle a little rat min pin. But only if he knew!
I know what your thinking...adorable....right? Wrong!
In the saga of the min pin nightmare I've got some bad news and I've got some good news. The bad news? IT (as in the horny little min pin) is still feverishly in love with my male dog. And even though my dog has got sixty pounds on this little rat, IT still pines after my dog with that sex-crazed look in his eye.
Unrequited loves a bitch. I get it. But I am seriously considering castrating the dog myself Lorena Bobbitt style.
Meanwhile I’m feeling horribly guilty because the reason why they asked me to watch their dog in the first place is because I’m a total animal lover.
Listen to Bob Barker people and spay and neuter your pets!!!
The good news?
I begged a friend to take the dog after he gets out of school. Which is douchetacular! I basically told him that if he didn't come get the dog that either me, my husband, or my dog, may kill IT. My friend laughed, disturbed that a bleeding heart animal lover such as myself couldn't handle a little rat min pin. But only if he knew!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Holy Douche!
I don’t even know where to begin with this douching. I guess it all began when my friend asked me to watch her dog that she recently acquired, a min pin, and being the dog lover that I am, I said sure. She said it would be in a couple weeks, and texted that she would call me later with the details.
Well the call never came and the next day I went out of town. Then the next day after that I started getting calls from her husband wondering when he could drop the dog by since they were leaving tomorrow!
What the hell?
We’ll just write it off as mommy brain – even though that is the lamest excuse in the book. Mommy brain is short for, “I’m taking those supplements that taste like chocolate and are completely synthetic so they don’t do a damn thing.” Joy.
So whatever, I forgive her, and move on. We arrange for the dog to stay elsewhere until my husband and I can return from our vaca and pick the dog up. Well at first the dog seems fine, you know skittish and weird like all small dogs are, but then I noticed it also hadn’t been neutered.
I didn’t worry too much about it until IT met my other normal sized (by that I mean BIG) dog and devoted itself to humping his ankle mercilessly. Oh and I refer to the dog as “IT” because I don’t know what the hell his name is.
Well, my dog doesn’t like being humped for fifteen minutes by a rat every five seconds so we tried to get IT to leave my dog alone by offering it a stuffed animal – which it doesn’t take until I rub the scent of my male dog all over the stuffed animal. So not only is IT a horny bastard he’s also gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just saying. Maybe if it was my girl dog she’d be okay with the humping, but my boy dog? not so into it. In fact he now growls whenever IT is in a five-minute radius of him.
Well, as I said before, the stuffed animal seemed to work like a charm for IT. I wondered if IT just needed a good humping before he could settle into his new environment. Well after fifteen minutes of humping…it really hadn’t stopped...it started to get a little scary. The dog’s erected self was frighteningly huge! HUGE! Especially in comparison to his wee little body.
By this time I didn’t even want to go near him for fear IT might attack me with the red rocket…shooting for the moon this one was. Not to mention that this dog was going at it like he was trying to win an award for best porn star. So much so that IT’s shlong began bleeding profusely on my nephew’s stuffed animal. (Yes, I gave the rat dog my nephew’s stuffed animal -- don’t judge me).
So with a bleeding shlong on my hands I am now forced to stop him and examine his gargantuan thingy to make sure it’s okay! I mean this is the stuff the nightmares are made of! And when I say bleed, I don’t mean a few drops of blood, I’ve had flesh wounds produce less blood than this dog’s shlong. And since this is only hour three of the horrid event, I’m sure their will be much more irate blogging, as I try to process what the hell I got myself into.
The only problem is I don’t even know whom to douche at this point? The dog for being sex crazed porn star or my friend with the mommy brain. But really in the end, I guess I only have myself to blame. So, I can admit it. I’m a douche.
Well the call never came and the next day I went out of town. Then the next day after that I started getting calls from her husband wondering when he could drop the dog by since they were leaving tomorrow!
What the hell?
We’ll just write it off as mommy brain – even though that is the lamest excuse in the book. Mommy brain is short for, “I’m taking those supplements that taste like chocolate and are completely synthetic so they don’t do a damn thing.” Joy.
So whatever, I forgive her, and move on. We arrange for the dog to stay elsewhere until my husband and I can return from our vaca and pick the dog up. Well at first the dog seems fine, you know skittish and weird like all small dogs are, but then I noticed it also hadn’t been neutered.
I didn’t worry too much about it until IT met my other normal sized (by that I mean BIG) dog and devoted itself to humping his ankle mercilessly. Oh and I refer to the dog as “IT” because I don’t know what the hell his name is.
Well, my dog doesn’t like being humped for fifteen minutes by a rat every five seconds so we tried to get IT to leave my dog alone by offering it a stuffed animal – which it doesn’t take until I rub the scent of my male dog all over the stuffed animal. So not only is IT a horny bastard he’s also gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just saying. Maybe if it was my girl dog she’d be okay with the humping, but my boy dog? not so into it. In fact he now growls whenever IT is in a five-minute radius of him.
Well, as I said before, the stuffed animal seemed to work like a charm for IT. I wondered if IT just needed a good humping before he could settle into his new environment. Well after fifteen minutes of humping…it really hadn’t stopped...it started to get a little scary. The dog’s erected self was frighteningly huge! HUGE! Especially in comparison to his wee little body.
By this time I didn’t even want to go near him for fear IT might attack me with the red rocket…shooting for the moon this one was. Not to mention that this dog was going at it like he was trying to win an award for best porn star. So much so that IT’s shlong began bleeding profusely on my nephew’s stuffed animal. (Yes, I gave the rat dog my nephew’s stuffed animal -- don’t judge me).
So with a bleeding shlong on my hands I am now forced to stop him and examine his gargantuan thingy to make sure it’s okay! I mean this is the stuff the nightmares are made of! And when I say bleed, I don’t mean a few drops of blood, I’ve had flesh wounds produce less blood than this dog’s shlong. And since this is only hour three of the horrid event, I’m sure their will be much more irate blogging, as I try to process what the hell I got myself into.
The only problem is I don’t even know whom to douche at this point? The dog for being sex crazed porn star or my friend with the mommy brain. But really in the end, I guess I only have myself to blame. So, I can admit it. I’m a douche.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Quotes that don't make sense
"We need to go down to secondy-second street."
-said by my douche nozzle husband
-said by my douche nozzle husband
Monday, May 4, 2009
Mom's Boss? A Douche...
It has been my experience that people who are capable of running large organizations, such as administrators, business executives etc. tend to be major douche bags, or at least have douche bag tendencies. Example: Donald Trump. 
The hair is practically screaming, "Look at what a Douche Bag I really am!"
Well, my frail, old, senior citizen mother happens to be working for one such douche bag. Now who my mother chooses to spend her time with is none of my business, considering my father is also a noted administrator douche bag, I’m sure she enjoys the company of them in some sort of sick masochistic way. So, ya know whatever, good for her.
But here comes the problem. It’s now affecting me!
My mother travels frequently with her work. And she invited my sister to go along on one of the business trips…and then I found out and invited myself…really not important how it was all set up.
What IS important is what Mr. Douche Bag (A.K.A her boss) did when he found out about our little family excursion. With his little grinch heart he decided that my mother would no longer be going on that trip, and that her co-worker would go instead.
Forget about the fact that my mother has ALWAYS gone on this particular trip and knows all the clients in that area. Forget about the fact that my sister has mommy abandonment issues and really needed serious QUALITY time with her mommy. Forget about the fact that I was super duper excited to go. And now…we’re going to have to pay for the hotel by ourselves, which I am not particularly happy about.
So Mom’s Boss…I am grateful for this opportunity to label you a douche bag. A label, I’m sure you’ve had, even before I emerged from the womb. And I take this pleasure in telling it to the world.
YOU’RE a DOUCHE!
The hair is practically screaming, "Look at what a Douche Bag I really am!"
Well, my frail, old, senior citizen mother happens to be working for one such douche bag. Now who my mother chooses to spend her time with is none of my business, considering my father is also a noted administrator douche bag, I’m sure she enjoys the company of them in some sort of sick masochistic way. So, ya know whatever, good for her.
But here comes the problem. It’s now affecting me!
My mother travels frequently with her work. And she invited my sister to go along on one of the business trips…and then I found out and invited myself…really not important how it was all set up.
What IS important is what Mr. Douche Bag (A.K.A her boss) did when he found out about our little family excursion. With his little grinch heart he decided that my mother would no longer be going on that trip, and that her co-worker would go instead.
Forget about the fact that my mother has ALWAYS gone on this particular trip and knows all the clients in that area. Forget about the fact that my sister has mommy abandonment issues and really needed serious QUALITY time with her mommy. Forget about the fact that I was super duper excited to go. And now…we’re going to have to pay for the hotel by ourselves, which I am not particularly happy about.
So Mom’s Boss…I am grateful for this opportunity to label you a douche bag. A label, I’m sure you’ve had, even before I emerged from the womb. And I take this pleasure in telling it to the world.
YOU’RE a DOUCHE!
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