Igor's Resume

Although I love my critters, 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 of 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 a bigger dog 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 filing off the serial numbers from handguns.

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!!

Why Bumble Bees are Jerkwads

There are more bugs, insects and arachnids on this planet than there are people. That fact alone terrifies me. Especially in the spring/summer months.

And unlike most people, I really hate the spring and summer months. Not because the sun ruins my beautiful winter moon-glow and I sweat from crevices that naturally shouldn't sweat. Although those are two more good reasons to hate May through September. I hate em because of the hordes of crawling, flying, burrowing bugs that insist on pissing me off.

The bastards that annoy me the most are the bees. The big fat bumblebees in particular. I get that they are part of the Earth's plan to help pollinate the flowers and keep food production humming. But after centuries of evolution can someone explain to me why they are jerkwads?

They fly around my porch which is made of stone and there are NO FLOWERS around at all. And still they hover around my head and attack me for no reason.

I'm not a flower or a plant that needs pollinating so reproduction can occur. I'm a 40 plus woman who through a procedure known to most women as, "Shut up and yank that shit out. It's as if a baby seal is bludgeoned in my pants every month."  I have been unfertilized and I'm happy to be so.

But for weeks this one particular bumble bee, who was bulked up on steroids and fried chicken, would wait until I would come home from work and harass me to the point of insanity.

It started with simply ramming me in the head with it's nasty bee body...daily. So I bought a tennis racked and threatened it. For awhile it worked. It feared me. I thought, "Yes, puny bee bastard, fear me! For I am bigger than you and have a tennis racket." Even though I knew my aim was so bad that  hitting the toilet while sitting down to pee was often a challenge. I'm embarassed to admit I peed in my own face once.

Eventually, It sensed my false bravado.

Last week the attacks became violent. One particular blow to my head knocked me to the ground! But it didn't end there. The bumble bee took advantage of the situation and rifled through my purse stealing my last two-dollars and a Canadian penny from my wallet. Apparently, this bee pays a disenfranchised Chinese bee to pollinate shit for him! I was appalled. Even the damn bees are outsourcing their services, and with slave labor to boot!

The next day it cornered me at the top of my porch steps. This time it was wearing a ski mask. I didn't risk telling the buzzing thug that its anonymity was lost on me and the mask was kinda pointless. Truthfully, I couldn't pick its fuzzy yellow and black bumblebee ass out of a line-up. They all look alike to me.

But what was worse was that he was high on some sort of 'bee' crack. You could tell by the way he was flying sideways, slurring his buzzes and occassionally resting on my porch wall. At one point he defecated on himself. I took that opportunity to run into my house. He just sat on the wall for while and eyeballed me. I couldn't be certain but I think he was stuck in his own poop. Secretly, I laughed.

Now I have to drive around the block a few times before I pull into my driveway to make sure this thug bee is off roughing up one of the neighbors. I think it pressured the lady next door into a life of prostitution. But the joke is on that stupid bee. She's 89 and was just diagnosed with some sort of aggressive skin cancer of the labia or elbow. He may only get two or three good months out of her.