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 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 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.....


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

Lesson Four-    This lesson is about 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.

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Igor's Resume

After a day of complaining to my critters that although I love them and 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!

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. The 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?

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 it's ass too close to me. So, I guess that qualifies me as detailed security. 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.

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.

* 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 Chihuahua's 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.

Justin Timberlake
Mindy the Poodle next door
Box from the Progressive Commercial (I'm gonna make sure that bastard is good for something)

Damn I'm Handsome. HIRE ME!!

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...