Oh sweet Jesus above

To be honest, I only got through a few paragraphs of this story before I vomited all over my computer, my computer room and my damn self... and then went to look for my car keys.

I was more animal than man

ACTUAL CONVERSATION*

Me: I'm in bad fucking mood.

Person: Why?

Me: What?

Person: I asked, why?

Me: Since when does there have to be a reason?

Person: There's always a reason.

Me: That hasn't been my experience.

Person: Well, then, you're either crazy or an asshole. Which is it?

Me: I don't fucking care.

Person: You're an asshole.




*Not an actual conversation.

Drunken boxing

When you wear your Obama shirt out to a new douchebag bar in your very conservative home town, you've probably got a chip on your shoulder and you're just asking for a fight. You probably came close to getting in that fight when someone mouthed off and your policy of not letting assholes talk to you like that produced a little smack talk in return. Then at the last second, before the room exploded, the situation cooled, and you were left to imagine what would have happened. You assume it would have been like this:

Don't fear the Reaper

I'm looking at an invitation to the birthday celebration of a distant aunt or maybe it's a distant cousin (see, because the key word is "distant"). It's in August, and it will be her 90th. Seems to me you wouldn't want to plan something like that too far ahead. Maybe an hour ahead? Anything over a half-day and you're tempting fate. But on the plus side, the party is taking place at a church. Sooooo... you know... all bases are covered.

It's not my fault I get thirsty

It has been suggested by some that I drink too much. The beverage in question was never specified, but I think we can safely assume it's blood. Blood, or "life blood," being my name for alcohol, of course. I happen to think I drink the right amount every time. But here are a few of the arguments others have made to prove that I need to cut back:

1. The paint on both sides of my car is missing.
2. My paycheck is direct-deposited into my home bar's account.
3. I won the Larry Hagman medal at the 2008 Alkylympics.
4. I have track marks on my arms, in between my toes and on the underside of my scrotum from injecting pure grain alcohol.
5. My sweat can be used as a disinfectant.

I want you all to know that I'm listening. And I'm willing to discuss everyone's concerns over a drink.

Everything sucks

Like you didn't know that.

I wanna be your dog

Ladies... a favor, please. Let me be your pet. Let me be your dog. I can't think of anything else I want or need. I would by loyal and loving, and it wouldn't have to be weird. I won't even watch you change clothes or shower. I just need you to feed me and sometimes pet me affectionately. In return, I'll snuggle and nap with you. I'll lick my dishes clean. When I shed, I'll pick up the hair. I'll bark at burglars to scare them away, and if that doesn't work and he raises his fist or weapon, I will yelp and run behind the couch with my tail between my legs. I won't chase your cat(s). And enjoy these bonus features:

I don't like to talk.

My leg kicks when you scratch me behind my ears or under my collar.

I can juggle a little.

I respond to all commands (English).

I get jealous and growl at your guy friends.

I lick salt off of arms.



If you want me to stay in character, I don't have to juggle.

Things that have happened in a year

1. I saw Stevie Wonder. I'm pretty sure he didn't see me.

2. I drank a swimming pool's worth of beer. Olympic-size.

3. I went to Europe, most likely for the CIA. I'm only guessing because in Amsterdam, a local "spy" tricked me into smoking something, and after I woke up, I was missing the kidney with the implanted chip. But who hasn't pissed blood upon returning from Amsterdam?

4. I began the weekly tradition of flipping a coin to see if I should quit my job "for the fuck of it."

5. I learned a few things about myself. But not too much. I like to keep things light.

6. I found out how long a year can feel. It can be like Groundhog Day. Why didn't I learn a goddamn foreign language and seduce Andie MacDowell (despite the fact that she's Andie MacDowell)?

7. Or does time fly by? Is there such a thing as a slow blur?

8. I drank a large hot tub's worth of whiskey and Jager.

The ultimate compliment, in my opinion

A friend of mine is starting a new job, so I wished her a good day. A great day, even. (That's my Snagglepuss impression, as seen below).



So my friend said she's not at all nervous and asked me if that's bad. I said, no, it's a good thing. I told her she had the bravado and swagger of a young David Lee Roth. Which received no response.

But where I come from, that's the highest honor. If someone said something like that to me, I would spend the next day strutting around in leather pants with my shirt unbuttoned and wiggling my hips. Like God intended.

Sanitized racism

I bought a box of Clorox Automatic Toilet Bowl Cleaner, seen here:


The back of the box lists the features, such as killing 99.9% of household germs in toilet bowl water, flush after flush, making it healthy to drink and bathe cats in.

But the one that shocked me was "Safe for colored toilets." When was this product made? The 50s?