Dogs Gone Wild

Scene: It’s 10:00 at night, my roommate P. and I are cleaning up the kitchen before heading to bed. Dog comes into the kitchen dragging his beloved stuffed giraffe toy with him. Dog, places the giraffe just as he wants it, in the middle of the floor, then while staring me in the eye proceeds to climb onto giraffe’s back and have his way with him.

Me: Dog! Gross!

P.:What he’s just letting the giraffe know who’s boss.

Me: But why does he stare at me when he does it.

P.: I think he’s letting you know who’s boss too. You might want to lock your door tonight.

Me: I hate you.

Drivers Beware, God is Watching You!

I’m not making this up. The Vatican has just released its Ten Commandments for Drivers. You can view them here if you’d like, but just in case your clicking finger is broken, I’ve copied them below.

 

Drivers’ Ten Commandments

The “Drivers’ Ten Commandments,” as listed by the document, are:

1. You shall not kill.

2. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm.

3. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events.

4. Be charitable and help your neighbor in need, especially victims of accidents.

5. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin.

6. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so.

7. Support the families of accident victims.

8. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness.

9. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party.

10. Feel responsible toward others.

Wow. I mean seriously wow. Thank God the Vatican has told me how to be a good Christian driver.

I know now that I must give up my hedonistic ways. No more driving through school zones at 90 mph, smoking a cigarette and flicking the burning ember toward the little children fleeing from my vehicle for their very lives.

I guess spinning my tires in the Wal-mart parking lot would be a clear demonstration of my expression of power and domination, so can’t break number 5 again.

And the Pope is right, I should stop giving blow jobs for 10 bucks in the back seat of my Johns’ cars. From now on, they’ll have to take me down a back alley to get some of my sweet lovin. Just like the trannies do.

Thank you Vatican, without your clear and concise road practices, I doubt I would have ever truly known the wonders of Christian driving. Seriously, this is so much more important than trying to end hunger or advancing peace in the Middle East, or encouraging those of wealth to give to the poor… No, why waste your time on those complicated and foreign problems when you can solve road rage with one little piece of paper.

Twits.

I’ll kick you in the lugnuts

Scene: Its 11 am on Saturday its already a steamy 350,000 degrees Fahrenheit outside. My Roommates J. and P. are helping me change a flat…er exploded tire… I had gotten the previous evening.

J.: “Do you have a spare?”

Me: “I have no idea.”

P.: “You’ve got a jack though, right?”

Me: “Again, no idea.”

J.: “Well I’ve got a jack but we need a spare. Do you know what size tire you drive on?”

Me: “They come in sizes? Like dresses? I don’t know, medium?”

J. to P.: “It’s like she’s gone temporarily retarded.”

Whatever you do, don’t lite a match.

Here’s the scene, it was Primary day here in VA and I had just returned home after a very nerve wrecking day monitoring the polls and results. My roommates J. and P. are sitting on the balcony with Mushoo, the shitzu puppy that’s taken over our lives. I walk out just as P. is finishing the worldest longest and loudest fart.

J.: “Was that your ass?”

P.: “Yeah, pretty impressive huh?”

J.: “Jesus Christ the force of that wind shock the balcony.”

P.: “What can I say I’m talented.”

J.: [wrinkling his nose] “Fuck, what the hell did you eat?”

P.: [takes a long drag] “Well honey, as I recall, it was you.”

J.: “Fair point.”

This is my life.