There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2005-04-09

Welcome to the Doll House, but take the bus to get there.

I have a plan to cut American gasoline consumption by a huge percentage. If our government has any sense at all (HAH!), my phone will be ringing off the hook all weekend. Senators, pundits, policy analysts, wonks, and environmentalists will be all over me like a duck on a junebug. My plan will call for no real sacrifice on the part of anyone except for self-centered, sniveling, whining, pimple-faced middle schoolers, and really, who cares about what they think. They should be sent away to a remote island until they’re human, anyway. Personally, I like to think of “Lord of the Flies” as more of a recommendation than a work of fiction or a cautionary tale. Kill the pig! Slash her throat! Bash her in! Less dramatic, but funnier: Sucks to your assmar.

The essence of my plan: Parents may no longer drive their children to school if they live in an area that is served by a school bus. No more. No more speeding down residential neighborhoods with the cell phone in one hand and a latte in the other in the enormous SUV. If you drive your enormous SUV within 5 blocks of a school, you have to pay a $10 toll. The only reason children are driven to school by their parents is because said children think they won’t be “cool” if they ride the bus. News flash: Most of you will never be cool no matter how you get where you’re going. If you’re a loser, you’re a loser on the bus or in the SUV, so waddle your ass to the fucking bus stop to ride your tax-payer-supported big yellow ride to school. And the next time any of you suburban perfect pony-tailed moms brush me and my dogs back (no sidewalks in my ‘hood), I’ll throw the big back of steamy hot dog crap I have in my hand at you and your spawn.

To recap: Unless you’re anti-American, your kids ride the bus. And hang up your damn phone while you’re driving.


I recently saw a commercial for a fabulous pharmaceutical product called Premarin. It is a hormone replacement drug. Do ya know why it’s named Premarin? Look at this. PREgnant MARe’s urINe. It’s made from the urine of pregnant horses. Mmmmm. Sign me up! The commercial tells all about the benefits of the drug – no more hot flashes, blah, blah. Side effects include dementia. Because that’s what you want in an over-stressed, emotional wreck of a woman. Dementia. Cranky and really, really crazy. But if you want a way out – horse pee!! Well, it’s highly processed horse pee. I’m pretty sure the horses don’t spend their days frolicking around meadows and having snowball fights.

I’m hoping Eli Lilly will come up with something made from roadkill or maybe diaper squeezin’s. Of course, it might give you anal leakage or a lazy eye.


I gave Buster his Summer Shave-down tonight and boy, was he mad. But those new clippers went through that wooly coat like a hot knife through butter. The pile of hair was the size of Katy. He has so much extra skin that his front quarters were very challenging – like shaving Anna Nicole’s belly last year* – very foldy and crease-y. You can’t just run the clippers over them – you have to pull the skin taut before you shave, which is difficult when you need one hand to keep him from fleeing the scene. You could fit two other dogs into that extra skin. I was too lazy to bathe him afterwards, so there’s now a film of lab hair covering everywhere he’s been, including the surface of my eyeballs.

*No express guarantee of having shaved Anna Nicole’s belly is implied. Eeewww.

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