Monday, May 25, 2009

Leg Humping

Not only is it summer, but it's also Memorial Day, and that means tons of picnics and BBQs and other large gatherings to which dogs are invited. And guess what happens when dogs are invited to events? They hump legs, that's what happens. No fucking manners at all. Like seriously, were you raised in a barn (or a strip club)? I know they're animals, but they could at least stay away from your cousin's husband's sister's calves.
And of all things to hump, why legs, you ask? Well, little known to most, dogs were originally bred as a lower leg cover, because long ago no one could make pants that went beyond the knee. Tailors just weren't that skilled. "Dog" is of the Greek root "dogus" which means "thing that keeps my scandalously exposed legs hidden from the perverted, gawking public." And so, as much I love to judge and scold animals for their inappropriate behaviors, this summer while out at parks and picnics, if your Achilles tendon is suddenly violated by a canine, please cut them some slack; they can't help it.
(flickr photo Down boy! by kennymatic;

Thursday, May 21, 2009

I'm a Guest Blogger

I'm a guest blogger, and guess what, I even mentioned dogs in my guest post. Check it out, and check out the rest of My Telephone Booth while you're there.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Meowing at Birds

I'm pretty sure that I don't need to explain to you why we don't meow at birds through a window. It should be obvious how goddamn stupid that is to anyone who isn't a fucking cat, so instead of wasting my time with that, I'll present you with a short play entitled "Cat Talks to Bird Through Window."
The sun is just rising, and with it, so are the birds. But the humans sleep peacefully because they don't give a shit about birds and sun and because they have to work all fucking day, goddamnit. The cat, who never ever works (ever), leaps to the window and starts meowing at full volume, waking the sleeping humans.
Cat: I'm going to eat you, bird.
Bird: No, you aren't. There's a window between us. I win, you lose.
Cat: Someday there wont be a window, and that's the day I'll fuck you up, you annoying little bird.
Bird: Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I still win now. Birds rule!
Cats: Aaaaahhhhhhh I hate birds! Hate them, hate them, hate them, hate them!
Humans add a shot of esspresso to their coffee that morning, while staring menacingly at the cat. End Scene.
(flickr photo My cat shadow...... by chaffeerobyn;

Sunday, May 17, 2009

A link

Seriously, check this out. I try not to recommend too many links, so that when I do, it's more meaningful, and trust me Choppy's Dog House is one billion percent deserving of this, and is strangely under appreciated thus far. Change that, bitches, by going there and giving it a try. You know, just take it in the changing room for a minute, see how it looks on you, maybe ask a friend how it looks, and if it works for you and will get you that date you always wanted, take that shit home. So maybe that analogy's bit confusing, but you catch my drift, right?

Saturday, May 9, 2009


It's starting to get hot again, and that means that dogs are going to start panting. Now, before you go on with your busy day of 80s aerobics exercises and paying overdue bills or whatever it is you do on Saturday like it's no big deal, let me remind you of the complete injustice of dog panting.
A dog pants and everyone's all like, "Oh my, that poor pooch is so thirsty, let's get him some water and give him some love." But if you or I start panting, everyone's all like, "Quick! Call the police! There's a pervert following me around and panting." Now is that fair, dogs? Why don't you stop acting like creeps and learn to sweat like the rest of us?
(flickr photo Rowan the ridgeback by D G Brown;

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Having a Friend Pick Up Their Poop

You know what, dogs? I don't know what to say. I really don't. I could rant and rave for few paragraphs about how degrading it is to put your poop in a little bag that I'll carry around for blocks afterward, or how you never act grateful or offer to clean up my poop, or how bending down behind your butt to so I can grab a steaming pile of crap isn't my favorite way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but this pisses me off so much that I just don't think I can muster the energy for that rant.
What I will say is that none of my other friends ask me to clean up after them. I only do it for you because you don't have hands. But as soon as you evolve some, this whole thing is over. I'm tired of this shit. Pun intended!
(flickr photo What's really going on here? by brandi666;