I Tired Of These Mother Fucking Ants In This Mother Fucking Livingroom.

Nothing is better than coming home from school to hear "Hey, Sweetums, how good are your eyes?" and I'm like, "Dude, I wear glasses, are you making fun of me? How much times do I have to slap you in the face until you get it right?". But, y'know, I go into the living room anyways because whenever The Pilot wants to show me something it's always something sort of cool.

Like the time he found and captured an injured hawk. Yeah, we totally found an injured hawk and did a total "Let's rescue this awesome animal and resist the temptation of raising it as an attack pet." and sent it off to an Owl Rehab Center. He might have also been named Falco Peachtree the 3rd. Because, y'know, he was a classy as fuck bird.

So, I go into the living room and I'm like "I can't really see what the problem is here what are you trying....oh fuck, Ants! ARE THOSE ANTS? WHY ARE ANTS IN MY HOUSE? ARE THEY GOING TO EAT ME?" and then I ran out of the house. Because, y'know, MOTHER FUCKING ANTS!

The Pilot had to re-assure me that they weren't people eating Ants and that they probably were not going to leave our house carrying the television on their tiny backs or anything. So I came back into the house.

And then I tried to convince the dog to eat the ants crawling all over the floor boards but he just sort of sniffed them and looked at me with a "Are you kidding me? These are mother fucking ants up in our mother fucking house, I don't think so gurlfriend."And then he walked away with a huff.

Basically this left us with the only option of trying to find things that kill ants at stupid o'clock at night and wouldn't y'know? Midnight convenience stores aren't really packing Ant Killer or anything awesome. But they did have taquito's and hot dogs. That counted for something.

7-11, though, dear sweet 7-11 had Raid. They had it right next to the deodorant. And then when we bought it we got clapped at by the workers because "Hell, we've had this stuff for four years and you are the first people to actually buy it from 7-11.". Made me feel like some sort of a hero. An ant killing hero.

To make a long story short we sprayed the shit out of our house and managed not to kill the dog or get carried away by Ants in our sleep. Which is a bonus.

This Is Happening. Try To Pretend To Act Like You Dislike It.

Moving, It Sucks Balls

You know, after the past week I've come to the realization that moving fucking sucks and The Pilot and I have two very different methods of how to deal with the whole "packing up your whole apartment and fitting it in boxes and going through your shit to make sure you actually need it" thing.

Like, The Pilot gets into hardcore moods where it's WE! NEED! THIS! ALL! DONE! NOW! ORWEAREGOINGTODIE! and he's rush, rush, rush, clean, clean, clean, pack, pack, pack, and maybe somewhere in there he takes a break to poop. I don't know, I haven't seen him poop this week. That's how busy he's been.

Me? I get started in fits and spurts that sort of mimics a kid on too much sugar and I run around flapping my arms and kicking my legs so high as I run that I touch my butt and start about ten different boxes of things to be packed before I eventually get bored and distracted by shiny things or Jersey shore and I just give up. And then I get ashamed of giving up so easy when we have tons of things to do that I attempt to try and sneakily convince The Pilot that he should give up too so I don't look like that big of a dead beat.

But it usually never works, ever.

Well, sometimes I can convince him to have a nap but that always backfires because we have a nap and then I wake up a bitch and the whole night is ruined because it was his fault that he was weak enough to give into me sneakily demanding that we have a nap.

You know what else fucking sucks about moving? A dog. More specifically, my dog. As soon as we start pulling out boxes and packing tape he starts acting like each box is trying to kill him and it's our job to save him from the boxes we are trying to fill with our belongings. When we packed his belongings? It was like we had forced his on-and-off again girlfriend to eat their love babies in front of him as if she were a startled hamster. It was that bad.

Or if you get on the floor to start packing boxes he forces his way into your lap and demands that you cuddle him like a baby and if you don't? He's totally growing thumbs and calling social services because you are punching him in the face while eating a ham sammich.

We've got one weekend left to have everything packed before we've got to pile it into a Uhaul to move it to Kelowna and right now I'm thinking that's not going to happen. Last minute we are probably going to throw everything in garbage bags because we're bad ass like that and toss it in.

It doesn't help that I am so over packing that I just want to pile everything into the middle of the apartment and burn it. Or throw it off of the balcony and see who can hit the most middle schoolers.

Or finally convince The Pilot that it's okay for me to stick the dog in a box and pretend that he's a box dog and convince him that no it is not my fault the dog has a paralyzing fear of fucking boxes.

Acting If Your Dog Can Write A Blog Post = Legally Insane

Dear Kindly Readers,

Some of you may know me from my first starring role as the little dog that tattoo'd that man that sort of looked like a Greek pornstar but in fact he's just the man that lives with me and sometimes feeds me but mostly let's me get away with murdering little babies. That is, if there was any little babies in my house. They'd be so murdered. And that man, yeah I totally threw up in his mouth once too because he was giving me lip.

Others might know me from the fact that I can't ever let the people who live in my house take a dump in private because them being away from me? Yeah, totally makes me go bat-shit insane with jealousy because they could totally be playing with another dog in that bathroom or just not. loving. me. So I have to burst down the door, preferably with a mouth full of food, just so I can excitedly jump all over them and spray food in their lap because that food was totally sprayed in love and not at all because I'm a giant asshole.

What you might not know about me is that I'm a giant dick. Like, last night for example when that chick who pays my bills couldn't sleep and kept getting up to check the clock because her life sucks and she has to be up early. Each and every time I decided it was going to be the best joke in the world if I sneakily stole her spot on the bed and kick her pillows to the floor because it's funny. And when she has to clean up that mess, yeah I totally do circuits around the room before I jump on her stomach to show her who owns this house. Then maybe I'll jump on the Greek guy who sleeps next to her.

Or maybe I'll leave the room to eat my food and come back with a mouth full just to drop in her face because I'm an asshole who likes to fucking share my food.

And then when she is awake in the morning and ready to go to work, I'll turn the other fucking cheek when she tries to give me a kiss or a pat because she's a bitch that doesn't get a good "Chewed Food In You Face Joke".

But mostly because I'm an asshole.

The Tattoo Could Of Got Awkward But It Was Just Mostly Awesome

When The Pilot grew a mustache for the month of November at first I was like "Holy crap that is a cool idea" and then my feelings quickly went to "Holy crap, you look like a greek porn star from the 70's that fell from fame because he molested like little greek boys or something.". So when it came for him to shave it off because November is over, we did what any kickass couple would do when one of them looks like a Greek Porn Star/ Boy Molester and we made a movie.

Halloween Revisited: Because I Couldn't Actually Care About It Earlier

I Am Sort Of Hoping He Melts To The Side Walk

Right now, I am sort of wondering if the weather has decided to turn around and fuck us all over again because at the start of the Summer it was mildly hot and riddled with forest fires and then it started to rain and give us floods and now it's all "I haven't broke your spirit yet? Well, here's some more terrible times to fuck you up and by the time Fall comes, I hope you are dead." and that's exactly what it's been doing.

It's been so hot the last few days that I am kind of hoping that when I take the dog out for a walk he melts to the sidewalk because I am tired of him sitting around and hiding under the bed because he thinks it will make it colder for him.

And he always gets stuck.

Because he's special.

And I don't want to save him because I am already held up by the heat that I just want to lounge on my couch with an over sized fan, a mint julep and talk with a Southern drawl while asking for the help of handsome strangers to do menial work for me. Shirtless.

Did A Bear Just Donkey Punch Your Balls? Yeah, It's Called Life.

Sometimes life is like being on a comfortable inflatable pool floaty thing (You know those noodle things right? That when you were little and stupid you used it as a fake penis to bash into the faces of the other kids who stupidly used it as a floatation device and not a surrogate penis? Yeah, I'm not talking about those. I'm talking about the floaty pool thing that you lay on.) while floating down a gentle river creek that leads you into a lovable forest full of deliciously cute critters that want to bring you cocktails and nudey magazines and once you are all comfortable and relaxed it's all SURPRISE! That little creek you were floating on and drinking cocktails on and enjoying those nudey magazines? Yeah, those animals totally made you those cocktails using stagnant lake water that contains beaver fever because they hate you and want you to die.

But sometimes life is like white water rafting where they stick you in a boat and a life jacket and advice you that screaming at the top of your lungs while barrelling down a dangerous river full of rocks and hard pointy things that can cut out your eye wont do anything to prevent your eye from being cut out. And you know what? You hit one of those rocks and it flips your boat and everyone who you love that was on that boat drowned and died because a rock cut out their eyeball. And when you managed to avoid drowning and crawl to land to start the grieving process, SURPRISE! That's a fucking bear. And it just donkey punched your balls because it's a bear and it doesn't give a fuck.

What I'm really trying to say here is that animals are assholes and probably should all be eaten. And what? No! I didn't write this blog about eating and killing all the animals in the world because my dog happened to jump on the table last night and eat my dessert while I happened to take a bathroom break. And no, I didn't come close to skinning him alive but he ran under the bed where my little T-Rex arms can't reach him so he never got punished for what he did.

All I am saying is that life sucks sometimes and animals need to be destroyed before they destroy us. Is all.

That, or I want another piece of pie.

Insight To My Insanity Or How I Spent My Weekend

Discussion with The Pilot following the discovery that we had no coal for the BBQ and thus might not be able to eat our delicious dinner we had planned. The Pilot, "Now I've got to drive all the way to the grocery store!" Me, " This sounds an awful lot like some buddy is whining." The Pilot, "It is whining! It's full blown whining and you aren't even giving it the credit it deserves!"

In a full silent theatre at the last shown down of Harry Potter and Voldemort, The Pilot is the only one who laughed out loud when Bellatrix gets shoved to the side by the darklord. Either he finds domestic violence funny or I should beat him less often so he doesn't feel awkward and embarrassed when it's presented to him on the big screen.

Email spam told me to invest my whole retirement in Alpaca's and I see nothing wrong with this idea.

The dog, while we are in the bedroom, jumps onto the dinner table and eats the left over steak The Pilot forget to throw out. He then barfs all under the table and as punishment gets thrown outside on the deck to rot. He spends the evening grinning at me through the door as if to say "Hey, this deck is awesome and all and I am pretty sure I pee'd on your BBQ but can you let me in now? It's kind of boring and I see you eating popcorn. OK? Awesome." while at the same time The Pilot is sitting around and proclaiming that I committed the worst act of animal abuse ever and someone should poop on my soul.

The Pilot met The Biebs. And it was a shocking experience.

Chasing Butterflies

Some Get's A T-Shirt While Someone Lost His Nuts!

As I stated in an earlier post today was the day that my dog got his nuts chopped off and because The Pilot is such a suck butt and couldn't be away from his dog for like five minutes or overnight, I begged the techs to let us take him home only if we promised to bring him in for a check up in the morning just to make sure, like, he didn't die or commit suicide throughout the night because they had stolen his balls.

Needless to say he was sort of drugged up and I had this plan that I was going to pick the winner of the giveaway by writing their names on little pieces of paper and throwing them in a frenzy at the dog and which ever one ended up in his protective cone would win. But those bastards didn't give him a cone and I'm pretty sure it's because I warned them not to charge me if they find an extra nut.

So with no cone I was highly disappointed as we left the vet only to be highly amused by the fact that my dog is in fact stoned. And lucky for him he will be able to get stoned tomorrow because they gave us more pain killers for him to hand out throughout the next couple days because obviously they think I'm a dink and want me to get my dog addicted to prescription medications I probably wont be able to afford thus pushing him into a doggy gang that would lead to him someday getting stabbed. All because I asked about that third nut.

Just to show how stoned my dog is I naturally took pictures and it's like....he looks pretty fucking happy for a dog who just had his nuts forcefully removed from between his legs.

Without a cone I had to come up with another way to find out who the winner was and after some heavy debates and a few stiffen shots and laughing at my dog as he sort of wanders around in a daze and then panicking a bit because he may or may not have pulled some of his stitches, I managed to find a winner.

Jen O. just happens to be the lucky person who gets that Dork T-Shirt from Dork Designs and now that means the rest of you can weep and cry and possibly lynch mob her. Who knows, maybe the person who manages to dislodge her from her horse in a long drawn out civil battle could get the t-shirt instead!

Today happens to be my mother's birthday and let's forget that fact that she's probably turning a hundred years old or something and focus on the real important thing that happened today, shall we?

Just a few minutes ago I dropped my dog off so I could pay someone a lot of money to chop off his nuts. I'm picturing that they will use a giant pair of gold scissors and pretend that his ball sac is the red ribbon that is going to open up a mall that is bigger and better than the last mall because this mall has two extra bathrooms and a fountain. And then a guy will give a speech about how awesome it was to build this new mall and how he wants to thank Jebus and his wife for the chance to use the giant scissors to cut the ribbon and SNIP SNIP SNIP! My dog no longer has balls. All the town citizens cheer and then go use one of the two extra bathrooms.

The day didn't start out all that great because I had to wake up stupid early to make sure he was at the Vet at the proper time so he could be checked in and when I was like "Dude, we are going to mutilate you today so how about coming for a walk?" he literally shit a brick (no he didn't because that'd be gross) and started freaking out because all he heard was "walk" and not anything about the part of mutilation.

I never saw a dog so happy to go get his nuts chopped off before just because he got to walk to the vet and when we got to the vet? He decided he was going to take a giant, steamy pile of turd right in front of their door that was made of glass and had the whole vet staff sitting in the front to watch this steamy turd. The turd sat there with accusing eyes and the vets were probably judging me on what I did and if I didn't pick it up and put it away they would probably give my dog shitty care and maybe leave one nut behind just for the hell of it. Luckily I don't want no freak one balled dog so I had to pick his stuff up and lucky I had a bag in my purse to do so.

When we got inside the dog was all "This place is cool but I've been here before and it's stupid. All these ladies suck balls and you know what? They can suck my balls because I'm sitting like a toddler holding my breath at the door and make you look like a dick who can't control your dog." and I may be a dick that can't control my dog but I've got a bit of dignity, ya know? So I dragged him along the floor so I could talk to the people. I could sense their interest in doing a good job lowering by the second.

When I get let into the Technicians office to get him checked in I literally had to beg her not to keep my dog over night because The Pilot would be so sad and that my dog has thing where he can't be apart from us ever and will probably explode on the spot if he's left over night at a strange place. She gave me the whole "Wow, you are a shitty pet owner because you want to break the rules we have set in place" look before finally agreeing and making me fill out three pages of paper work.

Then she asked me "Does your dog only have two balls or one?" and I totally thought the standard dog always had two balls but what do I know, I'm not a vet? So I sort of look at the dog as if he would take the lead on this one and show her how much balls he has but he was more interesting in being a dink and ignoring both of us because, what do you know it? He's going to town on his balls.

So, being the sophisticated smart person I am I could only answer "Well, I'm pretty sure he's got two balls because he likes flopping those around for everyone to see but I haven't actually counted it before. He might have a third surprise ball, but who knows? Does it cost extra if he happens to have three balls?"

And that's when she took my dog away from me and I'm pretty sure she might not give him back but surprise is on her! He's a giant dick.

A big enough dick, however, that he didn't even whine when she took him away from me. He was just all "See ya whore, I'm going to the Holy Land!" and that was that.

Remember, I'm doing a giveaway today! So technically this is your last chance to enter to win a super shirt that will let everyone know how big a dork you are. Or it might possibly give you super powers.

I Haven't Posted In A Bit So Here Is A Picture Of My Dog

He's on a turtle LIKE A BOSS!

Ride That Never Ended But Did Or How My Vacation Went Pt.2

Part One can be found here!

I'm pretty sure where I left off was talking about the gnomes that I bought my mom. You know those ones that I felt would probably slaughter her before even trying to make her flowers beautiful or have a sappy romance with each other because they would be too busy killing her? Yeah, apparently everyone wanted to see these gnomes so I'm all "Fine, I'll put a picture of them up because you are all a bunch of whiners but don't hate on me when I went to my phone and the only pictures of them I could find are somewhat blurry because I was so damn excited when I bought them and it wasn't at all that The Pilot started to drive even after I was all No! Stop! I'm taking a picture, why is this car moving?" and here is the picture.

I hope you are happy that you forced me to post pictures of those terrible gnomes. They are even prepared for murder what with that saw and shovel. If my mom ends up dead because of these gnomes I have no one to blame but my readership. Or the gnomes.

When I forced The Pilot up out of bed at an ungodly hour that would have made baby angels cry and people to get punched in the face we got up in the morning bright eyed and bushy tailed we decided that it was best to hit the road stupid early because that way we wouldn't waste all day on the road and get that much more time to spend at the cabin! Oh boy, that was such an awesome idea! Not.

All it served to do was make sure both of us were stupid cranky and The Pilot was even more cranky because I made him drive what with me being so tired I'd probably drive us into a tree or a moose just so I could to prove a point about not letting me drive early in the morning.

That meant off to Jasper National park we went! And since it was stupid early in the morning I forgot to have the conversation with The Pilot that we were not stopping for every. single. animal. ever! Last time we went through the park it took three extra hours because ohmyfuckinggod this place just has animals everywhere and they Must! All! Be! Photographed! and I refused to go through that again. Ever.

We stopped several times on this trip to take pictures of a billion fucking elks that all looked the same except for that one elk that had a radio collar on it and I called him "Herpy-Derpy" because all the other elk were like "Dude, you are a complete loser and we don't want to hang out with you because you dress stupid." and had to stand alone all by himself because he was an outcast. Shortly afterwards we saw "Herpy-Derpy 2.0" because he had a radio collar with an antenna and was also eating a paper bag. Classy fucking elk right there, I tell you what.

Then I mentioned that I had to go piss super bad and perhaps The Pilot would be kind enough to turn around so we can go back to the rest stop we just literally drove by two seconds ago and he gave me a giant moving speech about how our trip is about "moving forward" and we should "never turn back" because we should always look towards "the future" and it was very impassioned and somewhat bull shitty because when we saw a bear five minutes later on a hill and drove by it? The Pilot totally pulled a U-Turn on the highway so he could go back and take a picture of it. it was like we were playing "Animal Spotting Bingo" and that was the last animal he needed to win. While I had to sit with a full bladder for another forty-five minutes.

And then we bickered. And then he made me drive. And then I almost got us killed! Fun times!

The Ride That Never Ended But Did Or My Family Vacation Pt.1

Whenever someone speaks the words "Hey, let's all get together in a small cabin that is the perfect size for a retired couple but when you cram it full of other people it's not such a great size anymore and everyone has to sleep like two feet from the other person so if you fart in your sleep? Well, you're probably farting in someones face. Why are we getting together? Because it's FISHING DERBY WEEKEND!" and then suddenly you've planned a trip to go to a fishing derby and spend two days driving in a vehicle with a dog that will absolutely hate you for life because when he gets into the truck he automatically thinks it's "Ohmyfuckinggawd! It's dog park time!" when in reality he'll never see that place for almost two weeks. So when he realizes that we "tricked him" he takes it upon himself to be that moody toddler in the back seat that totally needs attention but wants to pretend he doesn't even like your face.

Since we live so stupidly far away from my parents and the rest of my family, basically, it was going to end up being a two day drive just to get where we needed to go and you know what? Driving more then one day sucks balls. Don't get me wrong, I love road trips, but this time was just horrible. To start off with there have been massive amount of wild fires in my area so for the past two weeks I have been forced to breath in smoke and ash into my precious princess lungs to the point that both The Pilot and I felt like crap starting off. It was the idea of fresh air that really spurred on this trip.

Not for my family. Or the chance to win Five Grand in this fishing derby. Fresh air. Oh, and the ability to purchase fireworks. Because of the fire ban. We could only get fireworks out in British Columbia.

We staggered our trip by deciding to stop in Hinton, AB because it was just outside of Jasper, AB and it would leave only six hours left to drive and stopping after ten hours seemed like the perfect idea.

The drive to Hinton was sprinkled with conversations about the equipment on the side of the road basically being "rape machines" because neither The Pilot or I knew what they did and his choice of them being tools of evil seemed to fit perfectly into whatever I wanted to believe.

It was during this portion of the trip that The Pilot started spewing some of the most memorable quotes I have ever heard come out of this mans beautiful mouth and weird, and odd times.

My favorite one? We were driving down the highway after an over extended period of silence and he blurts out, rather empathetically, "If an eagle ever flew down and snatched Baby Bowie, I would be so pissed. I would never be OK with that. Ever." and it's like fuck, there goes my idea of adopting Bowie out to an Eagle so I wouldn't have to listen to him huffing and puffing and sighing in the back seat in such a way I know he's calling both of us an asshole. The asshole.

When we did get to Hinton we were settled in a hotel room with too beds and because I'm dating a giant child he spent most of the time jumping back and forth between the two beds as the dog leaped happily along with him to the point that I wanted to shoot myself because I was sitting on the bed watching television and I don't need to be plowed over by my boyfriend and dog while I'm trying to watch Holmes Inspection, god dammit.

I also purchased my mother some garden gnomes for her garden as a belated Mothers' Day gift. Why gnomes? Because I had watched Gnomeo & Juliet before we left and my mother got a green house as a gift from my dad so I decided that she needed some gnomes to help her plants grow and hopefully, maybe I could catch them playing out a tragically hip romance in the garden.

Instead, I could only find two gnomes that looked like they would murder my mother and chop her into little pieces and throw her into the lake rather than have a tragically interesting romance under the cover of darkness.

Somehow, I'm more proud of those murderous gnomes than I would have been of those love bird gnomes.

A Vacation That I Hope Doesn't End Up With Someone Crapping All Over A Hotel Bathroom

All this week I am going to be preparing myself to hop into a vehicle for a two-day adventure towards my parents cabin where I am sure amazingly stupid things are going to happen. The last time we made this two day trip the dog ended up Dorito dog farting all over the place and when we stopped at our hotel for the night he spastically crapped all over the bathroom and the smell was so foul and disgusting we nearly threw up as we used all the towels in the bathroom room to clean it up and then threw them into the bathtub in a crappy attempt to hide the evidence. Despite locking the door we had to smell that smell all night long and it nearly destroyed our relationship and killed all the babies in the world by giving them cancer and in the morning we checked out as fast as humanly possible and now I’m probably sure that we aren’t allowed in a Best Western ever again because the maid that found that murder scene in the bathroom? She will most likely stab us if she ever finds us.

So this blog week is going to be pretty slow because The Pilot is working until super late all week and that leaves me to pack up all our crap and try not to forget anything and attempt to conquer my secret drinking habit because when he comes home at night and finds out that I did nothing? I’m pretty sure that’s grounds for him to break up with me and if he broke up with me I’d have to throw the dog off the cliff to show him that he never should have dumped me and we both know the dog would have picked to go with him and my fragile ego just couldn’t handle that after being dumped for not packing for a road trip.

All next week I do have on guest blog lined up because 99.9% of my readers are giant douchebags and only one person got back to me with an actual post and that person is someone everyone should have sex with because it’s just that good. The guest post. Not the sex. I’ve never had sex with her so I wouldn’t know. But I’m sure it would be good. She just looks like she is good at it.

Perhaps during the whole next week I am gone, I might just update my blog with what is going on because that Womb Mate of mine? Yeah, she’s going to be there. That means I am going to have a massive amount of stuff to blog about once the trip is over. But the thing about updating a blog while on vacation, it only works if you have access to the Internet. And my parents? Yeah, ever since they retired to live in a cabin on the lake they’ve decided they are going to live like homeless people and have no real access to the rest of the world. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage to do that without stabbing someone in the eye for some type of updated current events or just for my own amusement because there is only so many times a girl can play monopoly without killing someone. Sorry Grandma, you’re the oldest so you are probably going to be the one stabbed.

I also plan on making a lot of videos so you can look forward to that as well. If you don’t want to look forward to it…well I don’t look forward to giving you that intervention you so desperately need for your coke habit you ungrateful turdmouth. Yeah, that’s right. No Intervention for you. Whore.

P.S:  I didn’t really mean to call you a whore but you sort of kinda are. And that intervention? Yeah, it’s just going to be a giant party you aren’t invited too. Whore.

P.P.S: And that intervention that is just a giant party that you aren't invited to? Yeah, it's going to have George Michael performing all of his music and eventually he will end up knee deep in a pile of coke while simultaneously floating in a river of beer while fighting of a giant owl dressed in a red sequin wrestling outfit while Careless Whisper blasted on the sound system and lightening gold struck all the party goers. The night will end in tears and the next day will begin with the intervention we throw George Michael and once again just ignore you and not invite you to the giant party it will turn into.

Dinner & A Pooping Theatre

In previous posts I’ve talked about how embarrassing it is for me a friend to poop at work. Even more so when someone’s tit is hanging out in the air and being milked like a cow in a milking factory.

But now what about pooping at home (My friends home, of course)? Surely that can’t be embarrassing at all because it’s in the privacy of your own home and your home is your castle and you are the master of your domain and in your domain your poop is sacred and possibly second in command and everybody poops in their home and it’s Grand! Awesome! Fantastical!

Am I right? Well, I was right until last night when my friend decided to crap in my their house and decided that because no one was home and The Pilot their boyfriend was at work so there was no need for secrecy and upholding the myth (but in my case it’s very true – sort of like Unicorns and Rainbows) that girls don’t poo.  And they start pooping and suddenly BAM! WHAM! BANG! A furry white devil dog bursts into the bathroom while the poop is still being pooped and the devil dog decides that “Hey, wow, this person is taking a crap! How fucking awesome is this? It’s like...THE BEST THING EVER! You know what would make this cooler? Food, Yeah, that’s right. Food!”

And then the demon devil dog runs out of the bathroom only to return with a mouthful of dog food only to drop it on the floor so he can go back for more and he starts eating the dog food while you are still pooping, grinning the whole time and making sure to have great eye contact because everyone needs that level of supportive eye contact while crapping.

But you know what? Eating while someone is taking a crap isn’t enough, now is it? You know what would be better? If the devil demon dog decided that he was going to line up his stuffed toys because this is totally a poop  that they can’t miss and hey! While I’m at it might as well as get more food before I run out!”

And the poop is all plopping and the dog is all crunching and this whole scenario gets more awkward then the breast milking lady because at least she was blocked by the stall door and you can’t really stop looking at your dog eating his food while you take a crap because it’s a small bathroom and when you look away he takes that as a Que to try and crawl into your lap.

But of course, this happened to my friend.

Because I don’t poop.

And Then The Dog Threw Up On Him

Did you know that dogs are prone to instant vomiting if they suddenly decide to drink their water super fast and then rapidly inhale a whole bowl of Kibbles N' Bits in two point five seconds flat and will just upchuck where ever they happen to be at the time they feel like vomiting? If not, they totally do that.

Since my dog, Bowie, is an excitable douche-bag this happens a lot with him. He inhales anything in his water bowl as fast as he can as if he were in a race that no one else was competing in and sometimes he decides that he's going to eat his food just as fast despite the fact that most days it takes him two and a half days to eat a full bowl of food. And it always happens that when he does both at once he always makes a mess. Most of the times it was on the kitchen floor. Sometimes on the carpet.

This weekend? Naw, it wasn't in the kitchen or the carpet or anything. He decided that he was going to up the anty.

After inhaling both bowls of food he suddenly decided that The Pilot was sleeping and it was probably time to wake him up so he first spent his time running circuits around the kitchen to work up speed so we can burst through the bedroom door and land directly on The Pilots' chest waking him up.

His thought pattern must've been something like this: "Holyfuckingshit! That guy must stillbesleeping and I've totally got to wake him up so I'm going to run so fucking fast around the kitchen and wake up him SUPER GOOD! OH BOY THIS IS GOING TO BE SO AWESOME! HA HA, I just jumped on him and OMG NOW HE IS AWAKE AN----BLARRRFFFFGGGHHHH!"

And that's when he upchucked in The Pilot's face. Mouth, eyes, ears, nose, forehead, chest was completely covered in projectile vomit. Which, in turn, caused The Pilot to throw up himself. On the dog. Who then ran out of the room and left a trail of vomit in his terrorized wake.

I couldn't help The Pilot, who was making sounds a strangled baby would make, because I was laughing too hard and once I fully processed what I saw I ran out of the room and huddled behind the television and called my Womb Mate to breathlessly tell her what happened.

Because, that's just the type of girlfriend I am.

Sunday Photography: Yes, I Am That Crazy Dog Lady

Sunday Pictures