Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Horror Tree interview from THE Nikki Nelson Hicks

Give Nikki and her books some love.

https://horrortree.com/the-horror-tree-presentsan-interview-with-nikki-nelson-hicks/

Sunday, September 30, 2018

My blog tour

Any blogger, website, interviewer etc want to join my blog tour, please sign the link below!

http://www.tomorrowcomesmedia.com/ruschelle-dillons-arithmophobia-blog-tour/

Saturday, September 22, 2018

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Anyone want to hop on my blog tour?

Blog tour anyone???

http://www.tomorrowcomesmedia.com/signups-now-open-for-ruschelle-dillons-arithmophobia-blog-tour/


Wednesday, August 29, 2018

How to Tell When Your New Found Psychic is a Fraud








In this unpredictable world we all live in, people want to know just what their shitty lives have in store for them. Some people look for guidance, solace and answers in a psychic, medium or clairvoyant.


I have this friend who says she met this cool psychic and she's the REAL DEAL. And continued on and on about how SPOT ON this psychic was.
I didn't share my friends enthusiasm. Now, I'm not saying I don't believe in psychics, I do. I believe there are people who are 'gifted' and have tremendous abilities. But I'm also a cautious skeptic. And that's a good thing, because cautious skeptics refuse to be hosed by charlatans but are genuinely awed and appreciative of the 'real deal.'


But for giggles and shits, I asked my friend, "So where'd you meet this psychic?" Excitedly, she giggled, "It was Kismet!"
 (I knew I wasn't getting out of this conversation.)
She continued, "See, on a whim, I went to the one grocery store where I NEVER shop. And for some reason I was compelled, COMPELLED, to check out the meat section and before I knew it, I'm fondling up the pork butts. They were so...firm. And you know that's so unlike me. I don't fondle meat."
I snicker because I know damn well my friend is a meat fondler from WAY back. But she ignores my gaff and continues prattling on.
"I look over and there's another woman fondling the butts. She grabs one of the pork butts I had just put back in the case and said, 'I don't mean to pry but I'm reading this pork butt and it's telling me you were planning on making a nice meal for someone...are you married? I believe you are planning on making a meal for your husband." I couldn't believe it! She was right! How did she know I was gonna make a MEAL for my husband?"
 I wanted to tell her, It could have been the ring...but...whatever. She was so excited, I didn't have the heart to tell her how much of a gullible dumb shit she was.


So, I'm gifting you with nine signs that will let you know your left tit is more 'in-tune' to your future than your psychic....or your right tit. The right tit is a damn con-artist!


1. Your psychic is rifling thru your purse when you come back from the bathroom. And don't believe her when she says she was searching for gum! Psychics don't need to search for gum. They always know where it is!

2. She asks to see your cell phone (thinking she's going to read your energy from it) but she calls the psychic hotline instead. "Hello, Miss Cleo. I got a live one here? How many cats does she got?"

3. She jiggles not one but TWO Magic 8 Balls impressively in one hand and calls her spirit guide "Big Daddy."

4. She asks for your resume.

5. She tells you her spirit guide is Mark Zuckerberg's twice absorbed twin and he needs you to "friend" him on Facebook so he can absorb YOUR energy and transmit it to her!

6. She asks you to bring a piece of your jewelry or a family heirloom to the reading  so she can interpret the energy signatures exuding from it. As she molests the intimate item in her hands she pours a cup of Turkish coffee. She instructs you to drink most of it, but leave the dregs in the bottom of the cup. These dregs will help fill in the gaps if the energy from the object is weak. You suck the nasty shit down. Turkish coffee is terrible.

Unfortunately, you wake up hours later wearing only a suspect pair of stained mens tighty-whities and a t-shirt that reads, "I'm What Willis was Talking About" behind the dumpster of an abandoned Chick-fil-a.  Your jewelry, purse and teacup labradoodle is gone.

Why do I keep falling for that one? Second damn teacup labradoodle I lost.

7. Lighting every candle in the room, the psychic informs you that the smoke will cleanse your negative energy, but you clearly see the crumpled Chipotle bag peeking from the garbage can and the not-so-subtle nasal assault of a taco laced air biscuit.

8. She answers the door in her paisley moo moo, blows clove cigarette smoke in your face and tells you that you're a gullible t$#t before slamming the door on you.

This one might be credible...

9. Instead of tea leaves she reads dirty hot dog water teaming with the remains and bits of wieners past.

 Eww...but...color me intrigued.







Wednesday, August 22, 2018

My Horror Tree Interview with THE Loren Rhoads

My Horror Tree interview with Loren Rhoads. If you enjoy graveyards, this fantastic lady can give you some fantastic grave hunting tips!

https://horrortree.com/the-horror-tree-presentsan-interview-with-loren-rhoads/

Monday, April 9, 2018

Wal Mart Etiquette- Or...ForThose that Can't Read French -How NOT to be a Douche while Shopping Wally World




Wal-Mart is a shopping...experience. I get that.

Most red bloody-eyed M'uricans either love it or hate it. There is no grey area when it comes to the Wal of Mart.

Here is where the average...and not-so-average-Joe can do their one-stop shopping.

If you are looking for lighter fluid...it's here!
Socks?  Yep, they got em.
Fresh veggies? Sure as shit they do.
How about electronics? Well, I thought you'd never ask, yep-yep.
Bags of Lye to dissolve bodies? Well, duh!

See, Wal-Mart has everything you need and a bunch of shit you don't.

Sweet, huh?

The problem with Wal-Mart is with all the stuff, excess and the obscene glut of people that visit the store every frigging hour of every frigging day...somehow, peeps forget how to be decent human beings.

What???
I know! It's crazy, right?

So before you decide to step out to skip the light fandango of the local Wal Mart while thoughtlessly doing cartwheelies in one of the wheelchair carts and shop until you get seasick- let's go over some Etiquette or as spoken in the language of pure M'urican-ese--"shit that you shouldn't do while out shopping in fucking Wal-Mart."

This needs to be said with a Western Pennsylvania accent to fully understand the sentiment.

1. Always wear your GOOD pajamas & sweatpants when going to the Mart. Why? Come on.  Don't be stupid people. Stank-free, hole-less PJ's and sweats are exactly what the big stars wear when THEY go shopping. And if you're going to toss on your yoga pants, please don't complete the look with your beat up combat boots, a camouflage jacket, hat and matching scarf because...unfortunately, I can see you.  Western Pennsylvanians always wearing shit to let everyone know they 'like to hide in the woods.' You're not Bigfoot so you're not hiding from anyone. Especially in Wal Mart! So take a tip from Fashion Police, Say Yes to the Dress and Rue Paul's Drag Race; always look like you're trying. Even when you're not.

2. If you MUST have a three hour conversation with your long lost half-sister's babysitters uncle, or that neighbor you would never get caught dead speaking with in your neighborhood, please, for all the is friggin' holy, pull your carts over to an area where people are not trying to reach over you to get, I don't know...GROCERIES-- since it is a damn grocery story. And if you are reminiscing back when you were in high school, since that was the last time you actually saw this person, do not---I repeat, DO NOT give anyone the stink-eye because they are trying to snag a box of toothpaste that you so happen to be loitering in front of.  YOU are the one deserving of the stink-eye, not the person tying to SHOP. But, if you MUST have a conversation with one of your six baby-daddy's mothers about, "How come he doesn't pay me my money for child support when I see he's driving a new car with his even newer ho..." go to the fast food restaurant that your Wal-Mart has up front...unless you want other people's opinions....because if you're airing our your 'bidness' in front of strangers don't get all pissy when they start schooling you. Especially, when you're stupid enough to have six baby daddies. And on that note...condoms are in aisle 12. Buy a box... or 4.

3. If your child is screaming louder than a Trump supporter defending the Presidents right to use Twitter as platform for future peace talks with shithole countries, please do the right thing and take your fussy child out of the store to calm him/her down. Maybe the kid is tired or hungry. Or maybe they're just little assholes. I don't know anything about your demon spawn. But I do know, that no one wants to hear your kid yell and throw a temper tantrum in the middle of a "therapeutic" shopping session. NOR, do they wish to hear you attempt to OUT SCREAM your kid or watch you act like someone who should have been sterilized at birth.  If you were smart enough to have kids, be smart enough to learn how to take care of them. Oh- and don't tell me you need to take them to the store because you don't have a sitter.  I do get that, but then teach them how to act or take them outside to calm them down. Don't be a rutting, breeding asshole, Asshole.

4. If you need to use the bathroom while you are shopping, please leave the rest area the way you found it. Meaning...because I'm certain there's one person reading this that will say, "I don't know what you're talking about." That person, would be lying of course but, I'll give em' the benefit of the doubt.  So here it is...Don't raise your ass because you refuse to sit on the toilet seat because it's GROSS and then spray the entire stall with your disgusting fecal matter!  That's what I mean! Do people do that in their HOME bathrooms?  I get a little tinkle on the seat. It happens to the best of us, but when the seat and the surrounding area looks like a someone was murdered in the stall, ya know...stay the hell home until you can get your bodily fluids under control. Are you fucking two years old?


5. That being said...please use the bathroom and not the middle of aisle to poop. How dare I say that? Whelp, I dared. Use the bathroom crackhead.


6. Another one for the bathroom and the parking lots....don't shoot up with drugs in either and die. That's just rude for everyone involved. People are waiting FOR BOTH. Give someone else a turn, will ya?  Some people think of no one but themselves.


7. Before shopping with throngs of people, let me give you a tip. Bathe. Yep, apparently there are those that believe shopping at Wal-Mart means forgoing soap, deodorant and toothpaste. I can understand if you have run out of such things and are shopping to restock. But this is NEVER the case. I've stood in line next to men and women reeking of BO and ass. And it's not like the scent just happened on their body when they walked in the door. Nope, that stench is from body funk aging and fermenting like cheese-- and not in the delicious fromage variety. I am not one that finds a the smell of musky pubes, halitosis and sweaty sub shop HOT. Maybe our ancient ancestors eked out each others crack crud to find a mate and ensure the propagation of the human race but it's 2018...I'm going to douche your disgusting ass with some dishwashing liquid, a hose and a gallon of Axe body spray....that I will purchase at Wal-Mart. You get a pass if you are mentally challenged. Only pass I'm giving today. So deal with it, butt-stench boy.

8. Don't hover over a product and not let anyone else near it. It is not yours until you pay for it. So don't piss a circle around the stand up freezer with a selection of fish sticks and think you can call "dibs" on all of them while you decide the exact brand/flavor/ingredients/price you want. Move over to the side a little. Give others that KNOW what they want the chance to grab their fish stick and move along. Just because your an indecisive twat, (Yep, I used the 'T' word. See, I embrace certain words, because, guess what? That's all they are...WORDS. Now back to your regularly scheduled rant.) it doesn't mean everyone else is. I know I want the crunchy fish sticks, so move aside ya bitch ass fish stick monger!

9. If you are checking out with one of the Wal-Mart cashiers have all your crap ready. Once you're in the home stretch- get your cash, gift cards, check book, WIC check or check card OUT and ready. Don't be the asshat who stands there digging everything from a used cucumber to 12 sets of car keys to a pile of dirty diapers out of your purse or billfold after everything is packed up, ready and waiting for YOU to get your head out of your ass.  It's called, 'Be Considerate to Others'. I'm sorry your mommy didn't love you enough to teach you those things.


10. Riffing a little off of number 8....BE CONSIDERATE. I get this world is rough and not everyone is feeling their humanly best when they venture out in the world, but there is no damn reason you can't be pleasant to people. If someone is kind enough to open a door for you, smile and say THANK YOU. Don't just walk through the door like that person OWES it to you. Say EXCUSE ME, when you bump into someone. Why the hell is everyone looking for a damn fight?  Manners! But it seems to me that everyone expects everyone else to have manners...except for them. This is a particular pet peeve of mine. I'm sorry about the rant. See, I at least apologized.


11. Wrong is wrong. I don't care that your neighbor returned their live Christmas tree two days after Christmas because they didn't need it any longer and you think you should do it too. I don't care that all six pair of underpants you bought don't happen to soak up as much menstrual blood as you thought they would and think you deserve a refund. I don't care if the cashier accidently gave you the wrong pack of cigarettes and you felt the need to throw them at her and tell her she was a idiot. That behavior is wrong! WRONG! The customer is not always right, ESPECIALLY when they're WRONG. Ugh. Let's go back to number 10's message which was BE FUCKING NICE! Especially in Wally World. This is the big box store where the mascot is a happy smiley face. And no one is happy...not even the smiley face.

12.  I'm CERTAIN I'm missing some Wal-Mart Etiquette. But I'm tired of telling normal, usually well-adjusted people who SHOULD know better what to do while shopping. Please feel free to remember this information the next time you decide to go to Wal-Mart and decide to be a dipshit. I'm trying to make the world a better place....one goddamn Wal-Mart visit at a time.


Monday, March 26, 2018

Look Who's NOT Coming to Dinner


Recently, I whipped up dinner for my folks.

What the hell was I thinking?

Now, I enjoy cooking. Not all the time, mind you I have a friggin job, but I’m no slouch in the kitchen. My cookbook- which no one has read- can attest to that. 

So I purchased all the items for a simple Sunday meal. There would be no frills or elegance. That’s not how my family rolls. Our tiaras were at the dry cleaners but we made certain we used the pretty paper plates. Got me?

My menu was a HO made salsa verde over chicken burritos with a side of Spanish rice, made by THIS HO. I researched many salsa verde recipes online searching for the best one I could make from the fresh tomatillos I bought. Now, I will admit, the rice was of the RONI variety but it was tasty none the less.  My folks were tasked with making local garden grown sweet corn using my mom’s favorite kitchen gadget, the microwave.  *sigh*

I SLAVED for over two hours making the sauce and prepping the chicken breasts which I despise making. Yeah, I hate the whole process of doing anything with chicken. Fuck chicken. But I was doing something special for my folks so I went through the trouble of making the chicken 'goddamn delicious' by cleaning it of all opaque ligaments and bloody bits, cooking the remains with spices until it was fork tender and finally shredding the poor bird to bits.  What more could one ask for?


Not the Salsa Verde I made that day but I'm certain they wouldn't eat my Shrimp n' Grits either. I needed a pix of food so...here.


I brought the food over and popped the tortillas in Mom’s handy-dandy microwave to warm them up. 

My dad, who isn’t a fan of Mexican food, quizzes me. What’s this green stuff?  How do I eat it? Why are you trying to poison me? You didn’t let the cats help you cook, did you? 

Lemme explain; my dad’s biggest fear is my cats and dogs assisting me in the kitchen.  Which they do not! I keep telling him they are 'sans thumbs' so they can’t do much to help me….except lick the spoons and bowls clean. I don’t have a fancy machine that scrubs the dishes so I make-due with what I have. Which are cat and dog tongues.

As my dad’s bombarding me with questions, the sounds of gagging and giggling are ringing off the appliances from my mom.

She’s holding herself up in the doorway attempting to stop herself from laughing and gagging, but she yells, “It’s the smell of the cumin.”

Now, in my family, we all think the smell of cumin is reminiscent of body odor. Particularly, from the ‘jock strap region’. It doesn’t stop us from using it-but it always makes for entertainingly distasteful conversation.

That triggers my bitching, “What the hell mom? You haven’t even platted your food yet, let alone tasted it and you’re over there gagging like you’re Linda Lovelace’s stand-in.”
I can already tell this meal is going to be a winner.

As if I’m scolding the children I found out were mine on Maury, I tell my folks to grab their plates and sit at the damn table so we can eat like adults. Yeah, that didn’t quite work out as planned.

See, the older my folks have gotten, the more they have taken to eating like five year olds. Small, quick, heat em up meals that by rights should come with a juice box and a friggin toy are what they subsist on. So I try to bring something over once in a while to expand their palates and give them a healthier meal.

We sit down to eat and my mom, who years ago had a botched gastric-by-pass procedure, and to this day can only eat very small meals, is picking at her food telling me that, 'it’s good,' which is code for, I’m eating it because I’m your mother and I love you,  not because I like it.

My DAD on the other hand is moving the food around on his plate. Taking little bird bites.  I’m watching him and I notice he has his napkin in his hand. I think it’s weird but my dad IS weird so I don’t think much of it. As the meal plods on and we make small talk my mom suddenly blurts out, “You’re father is hiding his food in his napkin!”

“Am not!” my Dad shouts.

Mom shoots back, “You are too!”

See? Five year olds.

Pounding my fist in mock rage I yell at him, “Dad! For fucks sake, what the hell?”


My "What the Hell" face.


I say, “what the hell” A LOT when it comes to my folks. ‘For fucks sake’ was off the cuff.
The man is so BUSTED.
Mom is in hysterics, continuing to call my Dad out. His face blooms the ripe red color of a baboon’s ass. And mind you, he’s laughing his own ass off.
"I can't believe you squealed on me," he snickers pointing at my Mom with a not-so-menacing fork.
The rest of the meal, which didn't last long, consisted of us cracking up and making fun of my dad.
So, I repeat….FIVE YEAR OLDS. 

No dessert for you Dad!

No…dessert

for you.


Unless the cats make it. Yep, I'll have them 'hand mixing' whatever batter with their tiny litter encrusted paws. Ooooh yeah.  Delicious.


Do NOT eat with these miscreants unless you want a good laugh.

Friday, March 16, 2018

The Ten Minutes I was Pregnant.

Okay, so as the title reads, I was 'pregnant' for 10 minutes...but unlike most women who are happy to show off their bun in the oven, I wasn't so proud of it. Let me explain....
Not pregnant.  Just fat.


I had a pinched nerve in my back that was made worse with my scoliosis. So for about two to three weeks I was in pain and walked a bit funny and had a hell of a time getting in and out of cars. This happens to me every so often so don't get all squishy on me. I'm a big girl and I deal with it. BUT....I was out and about and I had to stop on the way home to pick up something from the grocery store; I don't even remember what it was, it could have been something for supper, some milk or a box of goddamn delicious Ho Ho's, whatever, it's irrelevant. I really debated stopping because I just wanted to get into the comforts of my home to nurse my back. But I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and looked for the closet place to park and of course...there wasn't one...except for the two parking spots designated with signs that read "For Expectant Mommy's" emblazoned with storks carrying babies.


I drove past the spots a few times and at each pass, they were empty. Every other spot was full or waiting to be snatched by fevered Saturday shoppers. I just wanted to grab my crap and leave. I wasn't doing any major shopping because my back wouldn't let me. There were a few handicapped spots open but I wouldn't DARE pull in one of those. People are judgy. Hell, if you're caught walking to and from a car with a handicapped placard you damn well better have a  limp, crutches, be walking a seeing eye chicken and have no appendages; or you are given the evil-eye from every person in the lot. And if you don't have a placard and you park in a handicapped spot...brother you are just the biggest piece of shit in all of the grocery store world. It's true! I've talked smack about people who park in handicapped parking spaces and I don't really give a shit about anything!


Sooo...I thought long and hard about my bad decision and decided...ten minutes or less. I won't take up that much time and besides, I've driven by this spot four times already and no chick who looked as if she swallowed a basketball has so much as looked at these spaces.


I pulled into the 'with spawn' space and gingerly slid out of the car as not to anger the lumbar spaz gods. I know I was walking a bit strange because of my issue but as people shuffled across the parking lot and cars crawled by, I realized I couldn't walk out into the store looking.....not pregnant. So I decided, that since I was already going to hell, I might as well play the part. I pulled back my shoulders and distended my belly so it resembled that of an Ethiopian who recently had a sammich and clamped my fat ass cheeks together to give me some support. I think I looked about mmmm....3, maybe 4 months pregnant.


I waddled into the store and prayed to whatever God would listen that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. Come on, what I was doing wasn't hurting anyone. I simply wanted to get my shit and split, easy peasey.


Yeah, not so much. I got as far as the produce section and a chick I hadn't seen in years was standing dead in front me staring me in the face. I turned my head but the bitch called me out.
 "Hi, how are you?"  Her beady little eyes focused on my protruding gut; what she thought housed a tiny human really was actually gestating the masticated remnants of two chili dogs and some fries. I gave her a fake smile and simply answered, "Fine." I purposely didn't say, "and YOU," because honestly, didn't care. I just wanted to get my shit and get out of the store. But, I since I was already in deep, I decided to continue my charade. I grabbed a bag of onions and said, "The kid likes em. It likes dog food too. Ooh that reminds me..." I said, as I quickly shuffled away from her. Luckily she didn't follow. That'll teach someone who I haven't seen for a while to talk to me when I'm faking being with hot dog child.


As I made my way to the frozen food section, I got a bad spasm in my back that stopped me in my tracks and put me up against the freezers.  An older, grandmotherly woman stopped and asked me if I was okay and then asked when I was due. I had no clue what to say to her. Since I've never been pregnant, I don't know how far along my fat gut looked. I tell her that I'm okay. And I babble something about, 'In my family, we carry our babies way past term. I'm on 13 months and counting. It should be another month so.' I smile at her and continue down the aisle with a bit of vigor. She's older so I know she won't be able to catch up with me for further interrogation.


At this point, I figure this isn't even worth it anymore. So I ditch my bag of onions, deflate my gut and make my way out of the store and guess who is standing at the exit? Yep, the same chick from produce. Goddammit!  She stared at my lack of belly and gave me this "what the fuck" look.  I was busted, so I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, "Ehh...I guess it was just gas. I feel bad for the poor bastards in aisle 5."


TWINS!! They look just like their father!

I didn't wait for a response. I just kept walking until I made my way out of the store to the parking spot I shouldn't have snagged--and sped the hell out of there.


Let me tell ya...being pregnant is a lot harder than it looks. 


Oh yeah and KARMA...it never fails me.
















Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Learn to Speak a New Language

Yes, I have decided to take up a new language. I spent many hours perusing the Rosetta Stone website. The languages they offer are fantastic! Italian, Spanish, Polish and Mandarin, (I never knew I could speak to oranges. WOW!) and many, many more!


But as I searched through all their offerings I heard that the Reverend Billy Graham had passed at away the tender age of 99.  That's when it hit me. Well, actually I was touched. No not inappropriately, there's a restraining order for that. I was spiritually touched by the Holy Spirit! REALLY! (and I measured-- he was 500 feet away)


I found the language I was to study and here it is.....


TONGUES!!!


YES, I have decided that I am going to be fluent in Tongues!  I want to share what I've learned with you.


Lesson One-    BOOOGIEOOGIEOOGIE-- It means, "Hello."

Lesson Two-   FUNGFUNGOOOLOOOIWANTASAMMICHOOFUNGA--It means, "Thank you."

Lesson Three-  SHAMAMLAMADINGDONGSHAMALAMADINGDINGDONGPOOTPOOT-ASHAKESHAKESHAMROCKSHAKE that simply means, "I have to poop, where is your dirty wood pile?"


Lesson Four-    This lesson is about the culture...Okay, I'm supposed to buy some fat snakes and practice falling backwards a lot while shaking said snakes.  Hummm....I think I'll skip this lesson.


Lesson Five-    It says, "DO NOT SKIP LESSON FOUR."  Son of a Bitch! Oh man, how do I say that in Tongues?  Where's the lesson in Tongue cuss words?


Lesson Six-      "How to Take Care of your Shooken Snake if it gets Motion Sickness"  WHAT??  Awww...look, it shows you how to make a little barf bag out of a milk jug.


Lesson Seven- "Good Tongue-Bad Tongue"  Hell, I learned this in 10 grade with that dude I shouldn't have been dating.


Ya know...this isn't worth all the money or the snake bites. I think I'm reconsidering my language choice.


Talking to oranges sounds pretty good right now.

















Sunday, February 18, 2018

Horror Tree interview with THE John Reinhart

Poet and Arsonist...check him out.

https://horrortree.com/horror-tree-presentsan-interview-john-reinhart/

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Igor's Resume

After a day of complaining to my critters that, although I love them, they are sucking my wallet dry like some fetish vampire. So Igor decided to step up and attempt to get a job. I told him in this competitive market, he needed to create a resume.


So here's what he came up with. Would anyone like to hire my dog?  There might be a little pee on the resume, sorry.




Igor Moriarty Dillon
Address: Somewhere in the Ghetto
Phone number: On bus station's bathroom wall--go see for yourself!
I_enjoypeeing onthings@yahoo.com




Dear future Boss-in-Law,

How's it hanging? I am looking for a job with your company that pays the most money and gets me lots of expensive treats. Milk Bones suck. They have no nutritional value and give me the green apple splatters. That's a nice way of saying, "The Shitz."

I don't really care what I do, as long as it doesn't involve me doing anything that requires using my paws. You see, I'm a gifted pianist and I can't get them all calloused or lose them in a freak vending machine accident. So please, just leave the juju bees out on counter in the break room so I don't have to shove my paw up in the machine to snag my favorite power food which I NEED to get me through my mid-afternoon siesta time.  You...DO offer mid-afternoon siesta time, don't you?


PREVIOUS EMPLOYMENT:
Oh, my mom says I need to mention other jobs I've had. Let's see...there was the time I chased the one cat because it was licking its ass too close to me. So, I guess that qualifies me as detailed security. I...uhhh...love to squeak things. And if they don't squeak, I rip their stuffing out after I beat the shit out of em so I'd say...Mob Enforcer. I was a go-go boy for a short time before I came to live with my 'now parents' but...I really don't want to mention that.


SCHOOLS:
That's a good one. I went to a school in Middleburg Virginia when I was a puppy. It was called, House in the Middle of the Woods. It was there I learned from a few big ass dogs the rules to being a dog.
Which are:
1. If someone else pissed on it, it's theirs not yours. You can piss on it right after them but it's still not yours.
2. Eat like it's your last meal because it might be....or one of us bigger dogs will steal it. You snooze you lose.
3. Asses are to be sniffed at all first meetings. Even if the dog you live with took a five minute walk down the street, when he returns you SNIFF HIS ASS UP GOOD.
4. Thou shall not commit adultery. Wait a minute...wrong rule. That's for the Jewish dogs.


I never learned all the usual things that people expect dogs to learn, like fetch, roll over, shake and file off the serial number from that handgun. I'm sorry but I'm a free thinking pup. I don't listen to bullshit from the MAN, but mom says that's something that shouldn't be said outright in a resume. She said that I should put a spin on it. Sooo how about, I'm creative and think outside the box. Sure that's what I'm going with.


 SKILLS:
* Let's see.....Well....I can do that leg thing....uhhhh.
* If there's a commercial with a dog in it, I can recognize it as soon as the catchy little tune starts playing and scare that rogue dog out of the house! I hate Box from the Progressive commercials too. Obnoxious bastard.
* I'm great at counting.
* I can suck down whipped cream and snort blow off a hookers ass at the same time. Yep, I got the pix to prove it.
* And what else...ehhh 12 skills is enough.


Even though I'm part Chihuahua, I am in this country LEGALLY. But, like most Chihuahuas I do like to burrow into things like couches and blankets but I don't like to pick fruit or mow lawns. I DO like to poop in fields though. I am a also part pug but since you're probably racist, don't hold that against me.


REFERRALS:
Justin Timberlake

Mindy the Poodle next door - but she just died so...don't call her. That would be insensitive. 

Box from the Progressive Commercial (I'm gonna make sure that bastard is good for something)



Damn I'm Handsome. HIRE ME!!









Horror Tree interview from THE Nikki Nelson Hicks

Give Nikki and her books some love. https://horrortree.com/the-horror-tree-presentsan-interview-with-nikki-nelson-hicks/