soft, tender hugs
brewskis in an old cooler
Memorial Weekend Folly Time!
Damn that Smeagol.
I don't want to embarrass him and have to listen to him grunt angrily for 20 minutes, so I have for the most part ignored his calls. He has called at least twice a day, Mystery has called 3 or 4 times a day, like I would pick up to talk to her if I won't talk to him, and he has been telling family that I turned my back on him, like I laughed in his face when he told me he had cancer instead of telling him I did not intend to let him ruin my credit and get sued along with him.
So he went to JJ's house, I guess to crash there and eat ice cream and talk about all the cute raptors he likes (Ooh that Matt Dillon is so Hawt!), much to the chagrin of Toboggan Boy (I know I spell it differently every time, yes I am too lazy to actually look it up). I gotta give it to my dear old dad, he is a lot more patient than he was in years past: 10 years ago he would have shaken Smeagol's thong down for loose change to purchase crack with and then kicked him out. 20 years ago he would have simply physically assaulted Smeagol until the rigors of unarmed combat forced him to retreat to a safe distance to hurl insults from. This weekend Dad simply tried to ignore the horrendous stench, like the smell of throw up in a pile of shit. It didn't work.
Smeagol came over to the house, and immediately, without a hello or hi I'm a raptor went and clogged JJ's toilet up. Disgusting, you say? It gets worse. Apparently they made bbq chicken, about 10 pieces for everyone to eat on, and Smeagol raptored the biggest piece and gnawed on it for about 5 minutes before wrapping it up and putting it in the fridge and grabbing 3 more pieces. When JJ's daughter said she was full, before he could wrap her plate for later, Smeagol informed him that "I'll take care of that" and slurped her food up into his raptor maw with extreme prejudice. That's 4 out of 10 pieces of chicken, leaving none for my dad who was still outside cooking and did not know at that point.
A fight was going to break out as soon as he came back in, and JJ took his daughter outside to play on her bike so she would not see the raptor engage in mortal combat, as it can ruin even the strongest of constitutions. Smeagol prepared for the fight in the best way he knew how: He stripped down to a baggy SPEEDO (not a thong) and went to sleep on the couch, shit-farting in near constant spurts. JJ's friend Benihana was trying to play a game and explained what it was like thusly:
"Man, I'm tryin not to look at his nasty ass in that speedo, it wasn't even tight like their supposed to be, it was baggy on him, you could see his ass crack and everythang, god damn that shit was nasty. So I'm tryna play a game here, and this nigga is blowing a constant stream of fart into the room, it smelled like burnt hair, hot sauce, kim chi and shit mixed up in a pot and then left out in the sun for a day. I had to leave when it got through my shirt man ugh!"
So let's get the picture my dad saw when he came inside from all that cooking he had done: No chicken, and Smeagol's dirty plate still on the table, an overclogged toilet with raptor pellets in it, and to top it all off, not only was a half gnawed on piece of chicken in the fridge, festering with failure, but Smeagol was laying across where people needed to sit wearing only a speedo and socks, moaning contentedly and farting constantly.
I will be nice and not go into details on what ensued afterward, suffice it to say Smeagol is at his house, sulking, cawing in agony maybe...
On another front, I get home Friday and the wife comes running up to me like I'm the mailman or something and is all like "I love you sooo much, you can't say no!" Which is hilarious because that's how Smeagol begins every call he has ever made to anyone. Apparently she got a dog/rodent hybrid. A Yorkshire Terrier. Dear.....friggin......God. OK before the insults, I have to make a few concessions:
1) This poor little dog was abused, apparently it's previous owners beat it and didn't feed it, as it is still scared literally shitless (I have the stains on my carpet to back up that I am not saying that as a metaphor) every time I walk by, or he was the first 2 days we had him...
2) In a totally gay way he is a cute little bugger, and he can stand on his hind legs and put his paws on his tummy, which living in my house is going to come in handy when in 2 months his stomach drags on the floor like the other quadrupeds in the house. Jesus I have some fat ass lazy animals.
This dog is the epitome of gayness. Not homosexuality gayness, just gayness and you know what I mean. Days 1 and 2 I was extra nice to him so he would 1) learn to trust me and learn that not all humans are bad, and 2) quit pissing himself whenever I look at him. I felt great about myself when he finally let me touch his collar long enough to put a leash on him to walk him. Funny side point, I put one on my other dog and she was ll like "what the hell is this? Walking? I need a cheeseburger..." and she and I spent the entire walk fantasizing about the same cheeseburger and fries at the house.
Anyway, so day 2 is over, and I am trying to get some sleep, and I hear what I assume is Danster crying, or Mystical Retard performing her Spiritual Whoop of Respect, either way it sounds like a retard jerking off wearing a glove made of sandpaper. I walk into the living room, and there is this gay dog, literally jumping straight up into the air over and over again and wagging his gay little tail, elated that he ruined my sleep. Long story short I walk this damn rodent 5 times a day now, bravely warding off the random calls of "Hey is that a dog or a rat? Haww Hawwww!" or "Hey Steve I really want to make love to you tonight Haww Haww!" That guy ain't right...
Anyway, I named the dog Ralph, because that's a funny name and because when I say Ralph he cocks his head like he is listening to me so I guess that's it... he will definitely be a star on this blog in the future, he has very acute "Little dog syndrome", and has already bitten my much, much bigger dog on the ear for not playing with him, and she was of course too busy laying on her side scooping food out of her bowl into her mouth to bother fighting back, I should know I was laying next to her doing the same thing with my dinner...
I mean come on! How lazy does an animal have to be when he/she/Smeagol is too lazy to even bother sitting up to eat, opting to lay on their side and use a paw/hoof/raptor claw to scoop the food into their mouths? That's just laziness, tell you what!