The 2016 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter

Narrated in Morgan Freeman's voice by Quincy

Interjections of frequent harassment by Igor and Yeti

Written in Santa's warm Christmas blood by the cats; Moby, Poe, Fathead, Lily, Petunia, Beepers, Mama, Splave and Shocky

We've decided that each one of us are going to share with you a little bit of what we are thankful for this holiday season, and maybe offer you a Christmas list of crap we want you to buy us. We're not proud. The asshole cats will go first. Why? Well, they won the Yeti toss. I wanted to call HEADS because Yeti has such a big fat skull but nooo...Igor wanted tails. Why do I listen to him? Damn half-breed chug.

Igor the Damn Half Breed Chug

Shocky: What I am thankful for this holiday season is our Savior, the Man with the Plan. President elect, Donald Trump! He's gonna build a wall with his tiny- yet ever so soft hands.

Shocky- Republican

Igor: *sigh* And where will this wall go?


Shocky: Don't you follow political religion? The wall goes all the way to Mexico which is the gateway to hell. That's what Beepers says.


Quincy: Beepers also thinks Satan lives in her sphincter and every time she craps she's birthing shit demons. That's why she won't bury her poop. She's doesn't want them to have to fight their way up from the litter to conquer the world. Stop listening to that crazy-ass cat!

Voice of Reason

Splave: I am thankful for the food bringers. I just wish they would wear gloves when they prepare my food. I know where their disgusting hands have been. And to top it off, they attempt to touch ME with their filthy fingers. But they don't realize their touch is like acid! And it burns, it BURNS!! I need Santa to bring some antibacterial soap.

Splave- Reaching for the Anti-Bacterial Soap

Igor: Maybe Santa has a sack full of therapy for ya, Splave.


Petunia: Psst...wanna know what I'm thankful for this holiday season? Meet me down stairs next to the fresh pile of puke next to the washer. Don't make eye contact with anyone.


Yeti: Quincy, Petunia is selling drugs again down by the puke pile.

Yeti- the Snitch

Petunia: Snitch!!!

Quincy: Shut up you two, we're doing a nice Christmas letter here! Mama, you're up...


Mama: What I'm thankful for this holiday season are the lights. They are sooo pretty. And for sparkly brown crayons and balls of ham.

Mama- Dreaming of Holiday Ham Balls

Quincy: (Shaking his furry head) I'm glad she's got looks because she be stoo-ped.


Beepers: Not thankful. Must...kill....everyone....

Beepers- Homicidal

Quincy: Goddamn it Beepers. You forgot to take your medicine again, didn't you?  Next!


Lily: What I am thankful for this holiday season is the huge hooded litter box smack dab in the living room! Mom was sick of me pooping and peeing on the dog's pee pads on the living room floor and me rolling them in a ball when I'm done- and because I roll them in a ball I fling turds all over the carpet. In my defense, Petunia and Beepers, who RULE the basement are PSYCHO. Every time I go down there to use one of the 6 litter boxes, those bitches are always harassing me. Beepers ambushes me with a turkey baster as soon as I plant my ass in the box and Petunia attempts to sell me catnip, balls of ham and heroin. I can't even take a shit in peace. I'm sick of it. Dammit, I can't be her only client.

Lily- Her Eyes 'All-Aglow' While Staring at her Private Litter Box.

Fathead: What I'm thankful for is not having died from THE AIDS.

Doesn't have "the Aids"

Igor: Fatty, you don't have THE AIDS, you have an issue with your white blood cells. Nothing more. You're on meds. You're fine.


Fathead: Who made you a doctor? And, worse yet, I think I found blood in my stool.


Quincy:  You ate a can of red beets, dumbass.


Fathead:  Should I ask Santa for a prescription for Percocets and an anal thermometer for Christmas?


Petunia: Psst..Fatface....meet me in the basement at the 3rd litter box in 20 minutes. Bring cash.

Petunia- Drug Lord

Quincy: Oh my god... Petunia get your dealing ass back in the cellar. Poe you're up next.


Poe:  I'm glad that I am an only fur-kid here with mom and dad!


Quincy: Umm..wait a minute dude. There are 9 of you goddamn cats and 3 of us pups in this house.

Poe: Oh yeah. Sure, sure. Hey, ah...you think Santa would bring me some heavy duty garbage bags, a hacksaw and a woodchipper?

Poe-Asking for a Wood Chipper this Christmas

Quincy: Jesus Poe, No! You're getting as bad as Beepers.

Poe: Fine. *grumbling in some stupid cat language to himself.* I guess I don't need the garbage bags....

Moby: I'd like to be thankful, I really would, but 2016 was one shitty year. I lost my job at the factory and my wife of 36 years left me for this stray Angora with a man-bun. 32 of my 40 children are hooked on drugs; thanks Petunia. And the vet just diagnosed me with chronic yarn-in-the-ass syndrome from, get this, eating yarn! Now, how the hell is that's MY fault?

Igor:  Moby, you are so full of shit...and yarn. You're a cat, none of the above has happened.

Moby: It could have...

Moby- None too Happy from Contracting 'Yarn-Ass'

Quincy: God help me. Yeti, you're up...

Yeti: I'm thankful for the bed in mom and dad's room. It's so soft and cozy. I get so excited while digging a hole in the comforter; for what reason...I don't know. And once I spin around 20-30 times in the fluffy blankets it takes no time before I just...just...ZZZZZZZZZ.

Igor: The little bugger has turned narcoleptic. Yo, dumbass. Wake up!


Yeti: What...what happened? Did I fall asleep again while talking about being all snuggled up in mom and dad's beee...ZZZZZZ.


Quincy: Let him sleep. He adds nothing to this Christmas letter anyway. What about you Igor? What are you thankful for this holiday season?


Igor:  I'm thankful for the same crap as always- you know; a warm home and good food. It's nice to know that mom and dad let us get in touch with our roots and encourage us to be WILD dogs, occasionally letting us hunt for our food. In our neighborhood, there are a lot of prey to let loose on.  We ate the dickhead neighbors last month. They were way behind on their rent and their kids were fat little bastards who shouldn't have been in the gene pool anyway. We did the landlord and society a favor. Man, that George Foreman grill really comes in handy. It drains off all the Dorito and Mountain Dew flavored fat and leaves only the clean taste of buttery shrimp ass and tears. Oh and I'm also thankful for the ability to lick my ghost nuts. I'm psyched that I'm still limber.


Quincy: Dammit, you took what I was thankful for!


Igor: Heh, heh, heh...


Quincy: You're such a dick, Igor. Well, I'm ALSO thankful for another Christmas letter in the books. This 'being thankful' shit is exhausting. So Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Great Balls of Kwanza and may 2017 not suck as much as 2016.

Merry What-the-fuck-Ever!!!!



Krampustasia

Post-anesthesia shivering revived Cammie after surgery. Furiously blinking her eyes in an attempt to regain her bearings and, hopefully, garner some medical attention. What came into focus was two-fold; the black sequined mini dress she had been wearing had been swapped out for a drab hospital gown but more importantly, her airway was choked by a breathing tube. Panicked, she pounded on the rails of her bed. A nurse in a Santa hat hurried to Cammie’s side.

“I know it’s scary but this will help,” she said and quickly injected medications into her IV. 

Cammie could feel the spasms gradually subside.

“Now relax. They’ll be moving you soon.”

Although the medicine was relaxing, it helped that the nurse’s voice was soothing. She patted her arm before checking her vitals on the monitor one last time.

Whatever else she gave Cammie made her eyelids droop, but luckily she no longer cared about the tube wedged down her throat.

Her sedation was quickly snatched from her as the woman lying in the bed across the room suddenly sprang to life. Just like Cammie had been moments before, the woman was trembling uncontrollably. With one difference; this woman was screaming.

Anticipating the nurses to spring to the woman’s side as they did hers, Cammie was quickly disillusioned. The nurses were huddled around a computer screen, unfazed by their patient’s panicked cries. Why weren’t they helping her?

Cammie focused her heavy eyes back to the woman whose screams were now deafening. The woman’s arms flailed at something black crawling from the bottom of her bed.

Unable to do anything, Cammie watched helplessly as the woman swatted and punched furiously at the black haired beast that made its way up her chest. Cammie could see it had something in one of its scythe-like fingers but she couldn’t discern what it was. Like a deranged jack-in-the-box, a second black furred creature popped up from the side rail of the woman’s bed. She could hear it laugh as it revealed an equally inky black bag and shoved it over the terrified woman’s head. The first beast chimed in with the sickening laughter and revealed just what was in its hand: a wooden switch. As the second beast stuffed the rest of the woman into his bag, the other beat her unmercifully with the switch.

The tremors returned and took over Cammie’s body but this time it was fear, not anesthesia.

The horrible creatures had the woman’s body almost completely shoved in their bag when Cammie let out a muffled crack of air from her obstructed throat. 

Their attention turned to Cammie.

For a horrifying second, both beasts stopped their beating and stuffing and placed a pointy finger to their smiling lips, convincing her to remain silent.

She slammed her eyes shut. She wanted to keep them pressed closed for as long as she could but she knew she couldn’t hide. It happened.

They saw her. The beasts saw her.

Reluctantly, Cammie cracked open her eyes.

There was nothing. The hideous black beasts were gone. The nurses were still conversing at the computer. Doctors were scurrying back and forth. The woman in the bed was gone. But how much of what she just saw was real and what was medically induced?

Cammie stared at the blinking red lights on the small desktop Christmas tree at the nurse’s station. She had been through a lot of trauma for one evening. The red blinking lights were a blinding reminder.

Unfortunately, her composure was interrupted by the woman snatched from her bed. Only this time, her face and chest were full of glass shards and blood poured from her wounds. The same screams she heard minutes before were now echoing in Cammie’s face.

“Where is Tia? What did you do with my little girl? Where is she?”

Once again, Cammie could feel the terror rise in her broken body. But the woman continued screeching,

“You took her! You took her from me?”

Tears burned from her eyes but the tube in her throat kept Cammie mute. She thrashed her head side to side, avoiding the woman’s bloody finger dangling in her face.

The assault didn’t go unnoticed. One of the doctors padded over and gently placed a hand on the screaming woman’s shoulder.

“Now Marion, we’ve talked about this. Cammie doesn’t have Tia.”

A nurse sidled up to him and took ‘Marion’s’ arm.

The feral look in Cammie’s eyes softened. The doctor continued speaking to Marion.

“Cammie may have taken her from you. But your own Christmas ‘spirit’ lead you here…with us.”  His lips twisted into a deranged smile displaying rows of tiny sharp teeth.

In a single blink, both the doctor and nurse had morphed into the grotesque beasts.

“Now get back in the bag!”

The “doctor” yanked the black bag over Marion, who punched and kicked as the nurse beast struck her with the switch.

Once she was forced inside, the nurse creature dragged her down the hallway, the bag undulating and lurching.

Cammie had the creature’s sole attention. Hurling itself on top of her, it stroked her tear soaked hair. 

“Merry Christmas Cammie. I have something for you.”

Its voice was thin, ragged and hideous.

Furiously, she shook her head no.

The creature snarled.

“Aww…where is your Christmas spirit? You had it when you left your Christmas party. You had it when you ran through the pretty red light.”

Cammie’s head continued to shake in declination.

But the beast wouldn’t take no for an answer. From behind its gnarled back, it retrieved a doll. A blood stained doll: its dress torn and wet. The beast sat it on her chest.

Cammie noticed the gift tag on the dolls tattered arm.

“To Tia: Love Mommy.”

Choking uncontrollably on the breathing tube, she couldn’t help but panic.

The beast cooed, “Let me help you, child,” yanking the tube from her throat.

The second creature reappeared next to her bed with the black body bag in its fist.

Black Friday Bitches

So I went Black Friday shopping and stopped at Victoria's Secret. Why? Well, I had to pick up a few things....for a friend.

Honestly, I hate going into that store. The "Bra Specialists" stalk you with talk of finding your perfect fit. Okay, number one, what schooling do you need to become a "Bra Specialist?" Is it a four year program? Can one eventually get their Masters in Tittology? All I can say is...bitch better have some sort of degree. And TWO, there is no damn thing as a 'perfect fit.' It's a goddamn bra! Bra's suck.


Plus, the staff hovers. Come on! My head is the same size as my boobs. So when I try the bras on my noggin in the middle of store, I don't really need a "specialist" looming over me, treating me like I'm some sort of sped. Shut up. It works for me and that's all that matters.

Red makes me feel sexy!

While slogging thru the throng of whiny bitches, I happened across a 'door busters' sign on gutichies that were pretty damn nice. And apparently, every other cheap gutchie loving bitch did too. The estrogen and Vickie's odoriferous perfume line were so thick I couldn't even get near the display.


Luckily, since I had my thinking-cap on,  *see above photo* I scurried out of the store and purchased a small cup of pretzel bites from Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Now, I'll admit, I was a bit hungry but I had other plans for those greasy little nuggets.


After munching on a few of them, I snuck the cup back into the store- in my purse- which is perpetually open because I'm too lazy to snap it shut.


I pushed my way through scary mother/daughter panty shoppers, the twelve-year-old baby hookers in training and the grandmas with fantastic body image to the round display of panties. Unfortunately for me, there were hands everywhere. Every time I'd grab for a sliver of silky fabric, another hand would pluck it from under my fingertips.

It was time to bring out the big guns or in this case, the bite sized guns. Acting as though I was picking something off the floor, I tiltled my purse so the pretzels precariously perched in my purse bounced and rolled all over the carpet.

The sight of those rogue pretzels co-mingling on the floor with all the lint, glitter and body dysmorphia birthed fear in those women's eyes. But there was one chick who pointed a manicured nail at the doughy buggers and really chummed the panty-lined waters.

In a thin, cartoonesque voice she screamed, "CARBS," causing the horde of gutchie glomming females to dart in all directions- while leaving me to the unfettered and attainable spoils.

Bwahahahahaha!

My Black Friday experience suddenly became...delightful!

I chose my cheap-ass panties in peace. Isn't that what the day after gorging yourself with great quantities of food is all about; peace and love and new panties?

Say what you want about my tactics but honestly, it was all Auntie Anne's doing. She's the real bitch here.

My LAST Bloody Valentine

Noah has parted the Red Sea in my pants for the last time!

I have mopped up my final feminine crime scene investigation! 

Red Elvis....has evacuated my vagina!   Elvis was the name of my monthly hemoglobular expulsion.

:

:

And it's AWESOME.

Yep, this female was deemed privy for a procedure called, ABLATION. Let me Wikipedia that for you....

ABLATION

noun

1. the surgical removal of body tissue.
2. the removal of snow and ice by melting or evaporation.

                       SOURCE: The internet.....duh.

So I had either tissue removed or they tossed salt and cinders through my vagina. Damn, looking back on this, I hope it was the first one...

Okay, I'm pretty sure the first one. I remember seeing a little crème brulee torch they would use to burn off my uterine lining.

Holy shit, maybe they DID do number 2. Salt and sugar look the SAME!!!

Ah whatever.

All I know is I will no longer experience the sensation of a massive clot the size of a can of Thanksgiving cranberry jelly dropping-it-like-it'- hot at the most inopportune time in my drawers.

Now, for some woman, this monthly ritual is embraced and considered beautiful. It reminds them

they are goddesses with the ability to bring life into the world. There are woman out there creating art with their menses- standing over canvases and letting their sloughed off cells, mucus and blood, develop into works of art! Like finger painting but....without fingers or paint....

Damn hippies.

Me, on the other hand, I am just DONE. I'm done being a fertile female. I'm done hollering "thar she blows" as my white whale spews chunks from my tired blow hole. I. am. done.

Am I grossing you out?

Yes?

Good. Now you know how most women feel every goddamn month.

You're welcome.

So...how did surgery turn out, you ask?

Well, other than the inevitable stench of BBQ every time I have to pee...I'd say it went pretty well.

I wanted to use my blogging abilities to educate woman who no longer wish to experience hot magma exploding from their vaginal volcano.

So, I have created a few tips to get you thru your own ablation or hysterectomy.

1. Do not stuff a raw piece of meat in your vagina with a note that reads "I could have become someone." It IS funny, but not to everyone. Killjoys.

2. Do not ask them right before surgery if they'll also take 'a little off the top' while they're down there and work in a cute circumcision like your idol, Caitlyn Jenner. Again, not everyone shares our sense of humor.

3. Do not ask for your singed uterine tissue or your uterus in a jar. They make you sign a waiver agreeing you won't ask for it. I guess I need a new idea for Christmas gifts this year...


4. Do not braid your 'carpet' into cornrows with colorful beads and request the nurses sing Buffalo Soldier as they wheel you into the OR. As it turns out, these young nurse don't know all the lyrics to the tune. What the hell are they teaching them in nursing school??


5. Don't tell them you're a 'squirter'. It's really none of their business but the look on their faces when it spontaneously happens is pure gold. GOLD, I tell you! 
           If you don't know what a 'squirter' is watch the classic porno, 'Why he's really named Squirtle: the darker side of Pokémon.'


6. Do not hand the surgeon this ultrasound and ask him if he'll find a new home for 'Chad.' Honestly, Chad will find a new home on his own. The little scamp.

7.  Do not scrawl a note on your girly-parts that reads, "While you're in there, could you please look for my lost car keys..." I woke up with another note that simply read, 'No.'  I'll be damned if I give them a smiley face on their hospital survey.

8.  While in pre-op, when asked your name and birthdate, do not roll your eyes until the whites show, throw your voice to your vagina and growl, "There is no (insert name here) only Zuul." Not everyone shares our love of Ghost Busters. Although, most people do share our disappointment in Ghost Busters 2.

So to recap without boring the BBQ scented piss out of you:

Ablation-GOOD. 

Having fun at your surgeons/nurses expense-BAD. 

Funny as all hell, but bad.





The Christmas Hippo

Ahhh...the Christmas Hippo. It's a little known fact that there was a 4th wise man, who was Not-So -Wise, and 3 days late to the birthday bash. He asked the Christmas Hippo for directions to Baby Jesuses crib.

Unfortunately, the hippo smelled the gift the Not-So-Wise Man was bringing--which was weed. And everybody knows hippos dig weed. And when the Not-So-Wise-Man refused to share his stash the hippo ate him....and eventually smoked all the weed.

We celebrate the Christmas Hippo because if it weren't for him, we'd be decorating our homes with ganja instead of poinsettia which a 5th wise man sent by FTD.

Another little known Christmas fact by me....and TJ Maxx department store.

19 Common Phrases and Discussions at Home that Involve My Pets

It's a known fact that we pet owners talk and sometimes have full discussions with our pets. But what you don't realize is that our pets actually understand what we are saying. They just don't give a shit. I thought I'd open the bathroom door to my home so you could experience the conversations my husband, Ed and I have with our pets.


In case you were wondering, (because you haven't read any of the Christmas letters from the critters. Really, it's your loss because they are hilarious) we have 3 dogs; Quincy, Igor and Yeti.
And 9 cats; Moby, Poe, Fathead, Mama, Petunia, Beepers, Lily, Splave & Shocky.

Moby

Please remember them all. There will be a quiz afterwards.


1. Said, by ME, as Ed and I leave the house for the evening,
"No parties tonight. And don't make a mess. Also, I'll remind you again, I don't care what the cats tell you, it's not alright to watch porn so be good."
I did find a used bottle of Shea Butter hand lotion and tissues shoved underneath the couch cushions one time. They tried to blame Ed. But I knew better. Ed doesn't use Shea Butter.


2. "All of you. Cats and dogs included--stop shitting in the living room! The house is not your damn toilet." To which they flip me off behind my back. Where do they learn this disrespect from? Assholes.


3. "Why do you insist on stopping right in front of me when I walk? Are you trying to kill your mom/dad?" This is said on a weekly basis.


4. "Igor, get that turd out of your mouth! Ed, don't let him kiss you. He's got shit lips."

Igor aka Shit Lips

5. Said as I'm going to work in the morning,
"I'll be back later. Mom has to make puppy and kitty food money. How about you go to work for me and I'll stay home and sleep, eat and fart all day."


6. Me:  "Ed, I found a pile of cat shit in the kitchen covered up under the throw rug."
    Ed:   "Whose is it?"
    Me:  "I asked but no one spoke up. There wasn't a note either so I don't know who it was."


7. Said after I come home after work as the dogs sit in the kitchen waiting for treats,
"Dammit, you didn't do the dishes... again and you expect a treat? I gave you a list of chores and could you complete at least one while I'm slaving away at work?  Nooooooooo."


8. Said after I have just cleaned up two blobs of puke, a puddle of pee, a pile of creamy poop that I accidently stepped in and smeared throughout the house.
"F**k, f**k, fuck, F*****************K. I take you into my home and this is what you do to your mother..." This is followed by crying and drinking. Me, not them.


9. While getting a sloppy kiss from one of the pups (usually Quincy).
"Don't French your mother."

Quincy P.- Thinks he's French

10. Said to any one of the animals on any given day,
"Stop fighting with your brother! He's going to kick your ass and I'm not going to yell at him because I told you to leave him alone."


11. "Quit trying to nurse off your mother. You've been in this house for over 10 years! How old are you, 57?" Said to Petunia who is the kitten to the mother cat, Mama, and still attempts to nurse from her....and Mama lets her.


12. "Quincy, I let you sleep on my bed and you wake me up by farting in my face? That is so damn rude. I dreamt I was in Auschwitz!"
Ed slept right through the stench.


13. "Igor, quit trying to steal your brother's treats. You're being a greedy hog. Just because you horsed down your Dreambone, you don't get another one."


14. "Yeti, what do you have in your fur? Is that cat food? Stay the hell out of the cat food. You're not a kitty. Don't you give me that look. Ed, the damn dog gave me 'the look' again."

Yeti- Giving me 'the look'

15. Said at LEAST 10 times a day,
"Lily, stop cleaning up the pee pads you're making a mess."
Lily "cleans" the pee pads when they have anything on them by piling them in a big ball which rolls rogue turds all over the room and causes the dogs to pee on the piles which drips into the carpet. And I drink, why?

She thinks she's Hazel

16. "Ed, don't sit there on the couch just yet. Don't ask me why.....just....don't."


17. "Awww...come on! Did I just step on a turd? (looks at foot) Yep, it's a turd."


18. "Yeti, why does your face smell like puke. Never mind, I don't want to know."


19. "You all drive me fucking crazy... but I love you."


I'm a sucker for a happy ending.....

Change BAD

My husband Ed cannot handle change. Even the littlest things spaz him out. And lately, I have been doing some crazy things to him that are shaking him to the core.

For example, last week, I bought him different apples. They were out of Jazz apples so I bought these Envy apples.  You'd have thought tried to sell his left nut.

Our guitar player got us a gig in Ligonier which is MAYBE 25 minutes from our house. Ed's response, "In Ligonier? Why all the way out there???"  My response? Did they fucking move Ligonier??? OMG!  Right nut....gone.

Today, I picked up battery powered toothbrushes. Well, these things AND I must be in league with the devil. He says, "Woman, (when he uses WOMAN, I know I'm a totally horrible wife who uses his man parts for soups and stews), Woman, you are pushing me! Pushing me!!!"  Annnnd now I am in possession of his penis.

So change, in Ed- World  is BAD. And I am in possession of all his wrinkly scrotal kibbles N bits.  And I have no damn use for em....I wonder if Ed will want to donate them to the less fortunate. Yeah...I doubt it too.  Change is BAD.

Guess what kind of meat is in the bowl??

Beef ya sick buggers.

When Penises Attack!!

A zombie penis with homicidal tendencies?  Yes please. This 31 page novelette will keep you laughing and gross you out a little at the same time.  It's only 2.99 on Amazon & Barnes and Nobel and it's on Smashwords for even cheaper!  If you dig it, please leave a review. If you don't dig it.....keep it to yourself.  I have enough disappointment in my life......


I think you might like this book – "Bone Sai" by Ruschelle Dillon. Start reading it for free: http://amzn.to/2a7d3iu

TOP THINGS TO DO IN JOHNSTOWN PENNSYLVANIA

Johnstown Pennsylvania is nestled in the Western wilds of the state. If one were to draw the state of PA (pronounced Pee-AYYE, like the Fonz), in the form of a man, Johnstown would sit dead center in his armpit. Visualize the area’s lush trees and thick vegetation as axillary hair, which is the technical term for "pit pubes."

Fascinating.

Johnstown is home to the steepest inclined plane in the United States (suck it Pittsburgh) and the infamous Johnstown Floods I, II & III (the latter, as is the case with all trilogies, being the lamest). Johnstown is also known for the Historic Stone Bridge, Coney Island Hot Dogs (yum) and for housing the corpses of long dead steel mills which old-timers remember fondly for their living wages, alcoholism and mesothelioma.

Ahh...those were the days.

But that’s not all. Johnstown is home to a few other hidden gems as well.

So if you ever find yourself in Johnstown, what are some things you can do?

For starters, I recommend asking yourself “Why am I in Johnstown”? Chances are the reason is one of the following:

1. It is late June, and you've been lured by the seductive aroma of motorcycle exhaust and overpriced chicken lips-on-a-stick that accompany the town’s Thunder in the Valley motorcycle event.

Or

1. It is August, and you’ve followed the sweet sound of music until you found your way into the Flood City Music Fest at People's Natural Gas Park (aka “Fart Park”). Perhaps you even splurged and got the GOLD tickets so that you could use the gender-specific VIP bathrooms! And yes, that is a real incentive.

Or

1. It is any other time of year, and your drug dealer is having a tough time making bail so he can't make the usual drop off, Wally World (Walmart)- and to make matters worse your ride out of town got twitchy and left you here.

Regardless of your reason for stopping by, you’re here now. You’ve seen what you came to see. What's a tourist to do now? Well, I've taken all the guess work out of it for you.

In no particular order...

1. The Johnstown Flood Museum

    

Nothing says FUN like going to a museum based on a natural disaster! I love the simulated Conemaugh River ride where you dodge huge logs, jump from roof top to roof top to save drowning townsfolk just in time to make it to Polka Fest (on the first weekend in June) where you are rewarded in Perogie* dollars and Haluski** points.

2. Central Park

 

    

Ah, now we’re talking. A metropolitan oasis…778 acres of nature surrounded by tall skyscrapers and visitors from all over the globe. Maybe you can take a horse and buggy tour or even…

Slow down globe trotter. You’re not at THAT Central Park.  Johnstown’s Central Park is a bit more…Johnstowny. You will find some similarities though. Both parks have benches. And at Johnstown’s Central Park you can even sit on one of those benches and take in the glorious sights of single men from the halfway house, begging for money or relieving themselves in the town shrubbery. From noon to 5 pm watch as pregnant females push their strollers with 4 kids in tow, trolling the park in search of baby-daddies and prospective 'hotties'. It's like an exotic white trash wildlife episode.

3. The Tree (Also in Central Park at Christmas time)

Look closely into the tree. You'll find little presents. Oh yeah.

    

It's a 36 ft. Christmas tree decked out in lights that frenetically dance to beautiful holiday music. So after you ooh and ahh over the display, visit all the quaint boutiques and open store fronts. Wait. You say there ARE no quaint shops and boutiques? So, the Cricket Wireless store that sells burn phones isn't an attraction? What about Subway or the liquor store? No? And town closes at 5 pm? The hell you say! But pull back the tree's ornate boughs and you'll be delighted at the surprises that are tucked away. Are they presents for good little boys and girls, you ask? Well, sort of. Nestled in the branches, away from prying eyes of inquisitive little scamps otherwise known as the Po-Po, are tiny stamp bags of DRUGS. Merry Christmas to you Charlie Brown!

4. Sheetz

 

This is the food mecca of this area. It's a 'convenience store and so much more', founded in Altoona, PA (approximately 45 miles from Johnstown). Food items and their wares are given 'the Sheetz touch' by adding a 'SH' to each word. For example, muffin becomes Shmuffin, pizza becomes Shmittza, newspaper becomes Shnewspaper, and gastroenteritis becomes, well, you don’t want to know. They also are the inventor of the M.T.O (S) which stands for a Made To Order (S)andwich. Sometimes it means, Mine's Too Oily and Meat Tainted Oh Shit.  So in Sheetz-speak if you overhear someone saying, "I had dinner at Sheetzese and had some chocolate Shmilk, an M.T.O and a gob*. Stay clear of the Shitters." It means....just that. Stay out of the Sheetz Shitters. Although, when not defiled they are usually pretty damn clean.

5. The Conemaugh River

    

The Conemaugh is as long as the Amazon River in Africa and twice as deep. It holds many exotic creatures like the Reticulated Waterlogged Moccasin (smuggled in from China and rarely found in pairs), the ever buoyant Nut Gobbling Brown Trout and the relatively new species, the Eastern Syphilitic Manatee (which recently migrated from out East, duh). Just why the Johnstown Housing Authority keeps promoting its waterways as a 'fantastic place to live' to these manatees is beyond me. The unemployment rate is pretty high in these parts. And it's a known fact that manatees don't have thumbs or legs...or can't work without 14 cigarette breaks. And don't even get me started with their whining about how they have to stay in the water or they'll die. It's a damn cop out if you ask me.

Johnstown has a few other places to visit but you can discover those on your own while you're riding your hog during Thunder in the Valley or running from the cops for fingering a box of gobs while you wait for Sir Jeffery of Cornwall- who may or may not show up with your, 'ahem,' package at Wally World.

Enjoy your visit to Flood City! Don't say I didn't warn you...

*     Perogie -   Hunky food (I can say that because I'm part Hunky)
**   Halushki - More Hunky food. (Look it up, I'm not doing all the research for you)
***  Gob - -     A dessert with... stuff in it.


AND NOW FOR THE SMALL PRINT---
This is meant as SATIRE. If this article makes your butt hurt I don't wanna hear it. My butt hurts too ya know.

The Truth of How Dogs and Cats are Born

We've all been schooled on the birds and the bees. But if you are a pet owner, especially a pet owner of MULTIPLE pets, you know there is ANOTHER way babies are created other than bumping uglies.


It begins under couches, tables and ovens.  Perverted, I know. But that's how animals roll.



Here, you see the beginning of life.  Isn't it precious? Please excuse the chewed up chair rungs. They're often used for teething.

Within a few days eyeballs and teeth begin to form. Look how sharp they are from honing them on the chair rungs. Aren't those little fangs adorable? He's already eating kibble like a big boy.

This next astonishing photo shows when the ball of fuzz begins to grow its sexual organs and we can tell if it's going to be a boy or a girl.  Congratulations! It's a girl. Or a boy with moobs. Umm...yeah, it's a boy with moobs.

The newly metamorphosing creature's internal workings beginning to produce fecal matter. Unfortunately, it's on my kitchen counter. Bad fuzz ball! No pooping on your mummie's counter!

Here I am attempting to teach the fuzz ball how to use the toilet. And to introduce him to his Auntie and Uncle Pubes. Distant relatives I know-- but family is important.

This little guy is learning how to enjoy coffee. He's almost a teenager now. Although I hate it when he sheds in the sugar.

This stupid little bastard got into a fight with one of his siblings over a tank of gas and an unused French tickler and lost his teeth. Dumbass. Here he is rubbing his sore gums with alcohol. He may be drinking it also. At this point, I don't care, he's on his own.

Here, he was dressed up for Halloween as Marilyn Monroe's muff. Although a bit distasteful, he deserves props for creativity. I was hoping he'd dress like a fun-loving Tribble...eh to each his own.

Christmas time!  He made a friend. I know it's an ornament but this particular little dude is kinda...."special."

Here he is with a full set of adult chompers.  Looking good pal!

It's been a long road, but here is the little fuzz ball fully grown! Isn't he handsome?