There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


This entry defies (a short) description

Dear George Clooney,

It’s my understanding that you’re a bit irritated about my identification of Jon Stewart as the perfect man. Clearly, you were not included in the category of “man,” as you are not a regular “man.” My apologies for any misunderstandings. Bcc: Vince Vaughn. Love you. Mean it. Kiss, kiss. Call me.

By the way, I understand the whole concept of the perfect storm. I believe that this morning, I produced the perfect fart. It lasted about 3.2 seconds, had a bit of a crescendo, and ended on a C sharp that would have made Mozart weep. I’m just sayin’. Ooom bop.

Big Pimp: You are going to be soooo happy in the near future when TLC will bring you a reality show in which two completely incompatible couples with far too many children are forced to vacation together, one week with a red-neck, trailer park family, the other week with a hippie granola yoga twig eatin’ family. Family 1: Drink, drink, put nasty yellow highlights in your hair, invite all of your children from all of your “relationships,” including your 18-year-old daughter’s 2-year-old son with no visible baby daddy, do whatever you can to look trashy. Family 2: Yoga, organic food, no booze, no shaving (the first sign!!!), no meat. The result?? Wacky and madcap, I guarantee. Love it, love it, love it. You know what else I love?? Belts!! You know, you’re not included in the regular “man” category either.

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