Well, Miss O decided today that she wanted to fire up the old Dog Treats Cafe, once again, and hey, it was either that or watch the Bears suck their own asses, so it was a no-brainer. So here you have it, Episode Eight, where she spoons right into a re-hydrated bowl of The Honest Kitchen's "Force" dog food.* Enjoy!
*According to their site, "The Honest Kitchen is the only pet food company with FDA approval to label its pet foods human grade." Frankly, that's more than I can say for the Pringles she wants me to put in her lunches everyday.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Lo, I Have Smelled The Face of Death...
Have I mentioned lately how fucking disgusting men are. Wait, let me clarify -- not all men... just all men besides me.
Example 4937:
So, I'm at the gym, drying off after a shower in the seemingly non-disgusting shower area which is, in fact, probably exponentially more disgusting than I can possibly imagine, and I see this dude, unclad, walk into the crapper stall. Okay, fine, people need to shit. I get it. Unfortunately, said stall is a mere five feet from my locker and I KNOW this dude's gonna be causing some serious heinousness.
I walk over to my locker, flip-flops glued to my feet because who knows what sort of primordial, fecal-pee-jizz excreta soups is puddling on the tiles, and proceed to get dressed as quickly as possible before the onslaught begins. Well, no sooner do I open the locker door than the dude unleashes an ass-fury of biblical proportions. It was truly horrific -- ripping, tearing, splattering -- it was like the dude was stabbing a white-water raft filled with pressurized pudding. I had my head turned away and my eyes clamped shut because I was convinced that if I looked toward the horror, my face would've done the Indiana Jones nazi face-melt.
And, mind you, I'm no shit-prude -- if you'll recall, I put funny fart sound effects into video games for a living so I can appreciate the humor in a good colonic assplosion. But, no, there was nothing funny about this atrocity.
And let me just step aside here and say that this is the main reason I don't eat red meat anymore. It's really not about not eating mammals. It's not about saving the environment or my arteries. It's because I know that, yesterday, this dude probably snarfed down two sausage McMuffins for breakfast, probably had some sort of meat sandwich for lunch and inhaled some fucking ribs for dinner and THAT'S why his ass is detonating. Non meat-eaters just do NOT shit like that, lemme tell ya. I haven't made noises like that since the early 90s, when I used to suck down four McDonald's cheese burgers at a sitting. Beans, noodles and tempeh simply cannot cause that sort of destruction.
Anywhich, at this point I was just trying to get my clothes on as fast as possible so I could escape this rectal hell-mouth without all of my body hair getting completely seared off. That's when I heard it. The sound of the toilet paper roll being unfurled. I figured this dude was gonna have to use at least three full rolls, double-ply, to even put a dent in the chaos he had created in there but all I heard was one squeak of the roll, a tear and then... flush.
Are you shitting me?! A one wiper?! There's no fucking way. This dude had to have looked like Augustus Gloop AFTER he got stuck in the chocolate river tube in there and he's pulling off a one-wiper?! At the very least, he was going to need a hazmat team with pressurized hoses and industrial-strength detergents working around the clock for days to rectify his situation. But then the lock turned and the stall door began to open. I turned away because I knew I my stomach couldn't handle the fecal greaseball that was about to exit the crime scene...
And out he strutted. Out of the stall, past the lockers, past my horrified grimace and... into the goddamn showers.
I swear, I'm buying myself a pair of hip-waders.
Example 4937:
So, I'm at the gym, drying off after a shower in the seemingly non-disgusting shower area which is, in fact, probably exponentially more disgusting than I can possibly imagine, and I see this dude, unclad, walk into the crapper stall. Okay, fine, people need to shit. I get it. Unfortunately, said stall is a mere five feet from my locker and I KNOW this dude's gonna be causing some serious heinousness.
I walk over to my locker, flip-flops glued to my feet because who knows what sort of primordial, fecal-pee-jizz excreta soups is puddling on the tiles, and proceed to get dressed as quickly as possible before the onslaught begins. Well, no sooner do I open the locker door than the dude unleashes an ass-fury of biblical proportions. It was truly horrific -- ripping, tearing, splattering -- it was like the dude was stabbing a white-water raft filled with pressurized pudding. I had my head turned away and my eyes clamped shut because I was convinced that if I looked toward the horror, my face would've done the Indiana Jones nazi face-melt.
And, mind you, I'm no shit-prude -- if you'll recall, I put funny fart sound effects into video games for a living so I can appreciate the humor in a good colonic assplosion. But, no, there was nothing funny about this atrocity.
And let me just step aside here and say that this is the main reason I don't eat red meat anymore. It's really not about not eating mammals. It's not about saving the environment or my arteries. It's because I know that, yesterday, this dude probably snarfed down two sausage McMuffins for breakfast, probably had some sort of meat sandwich for lunch and inhaled some fucking ribs for dinner and THAT'S why his ass is detonating. Non meat-eaters just do NOT shit like that, lemme tell ya. I haven't made noises like that since the early 90s, when I used to suck down four McDonald's cheese burgers at a sitting. Beans, noodles and tempeh simply cannot cause that sort of destruction.
Anywhich, at this point I was just trying to get my clothes on as fast as possible so I could escape this rectal hell-mouth without all of my body hair getting completely seared off. That's when I heard it. The sound of the toilet paper roll being unfurled. I figured this dude was gonna have to use at least three full rolls, double-ply, to even put a dent in the chaos he had created in there but all I heard was one squeak of the roll, a tear and then... flush.
Are you shitting me?! A one wiper?! There's no fucking way. This dude had to have looked like Augustus Gloop AFTER he got stuck in the chocolate river tube in there and he's pulling off a one-wiper?! At the very least, he was going to need a hazmat team with pressurized hoses and industrial-strength detergents working around the clock for days to rectify his situation. But then the lock turned and the stall door began to open. I turned away because I knew I my stomach couldn't handle the fecal greaseball that was about to exit the crime scene...
And out he strutted. Out of the stall, past the lockers, past my horrified grimace and... into the goddamn showers.
I swear, I'm buying myself a pair of hip-waders.
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