Archive for the ‘Barfy Cute Stuff’ Category

God dammit.  Fucking back.  Why are my feet so far away and why can’t underpants pull themselves up, sonsabitches.

I could probably just stop there, but I won’t because I have diarrhea of the mouth.  Thank god I don’t have regular diarrhea, though, because getting on and off the toilet is as painful as it must be to have an electrified pole stuck up your ass and turned on full strength.

The back problem?  It is a herniated disc, also called a bulging disc or a slipped disc, depending on the health care person torturing me.  It isn’t a constant “no go” proposition.  It has only bulged 4 times in the past 5 or 6 years, but each time, the results get more and more dramatic and difficult, and recovery from the quick, short-lived slip of disc is more and more difficult, costly, and lengthy.

Last year, when it happened, I was simply lifting the lid of the toilet to take a piss.  I spent 6 days in bed before I decided to finally go to the doctor for the first time to have someone help me.  I went to physical therapy for 2 months.  I liked my physical therapist.  He didn’t waste any time manipulating my body and giving me stretching and strengthening exercises, exercises and stretches that I have continued to do ever since.  And while it allowed me to get back to exercising, running, etc., I have not been the athlete or even the stander/sitter/walker/person that I used to be.

And now, here it is, 14 days after I have once again herniated a disc in my back.  Low back.  With equally devastating results.  But this time, things have been different.  Although I still couldn’t get to the doctor for 4 days, I forced myself to go early.  Most importantly, I have changed physical therapists and added massage therapy.

More on the physical/massage therapy and how I burst into tears for no apparent reason while having my upper ass massaged in a soon-to-be-written post.

The point of this story is that my two dogs are beside themselves.  They don’t know what to do.  They can sense something is wrong with me, and they won’t leave my side or let me out of their sight.  I love it in one way, but it distresses me because they are so worried.  Even when I am up sitting or lying still and in no pain whatsoever, they still know.  They can sense it.  Smell?  See?  Feel?  I don’t know, but it amazes me.  So, I try to get up and find them and kiss and hug and play with them as often as possible.

And they go crazy kissing me back.

Now, don’t hate me, but I do not like the dogs to lick me.  I think it is gross, particularly my face.  And they know better, but they can’t help themselves, especially because they are so out of sorts thanks to my broke-ass body.  And I know many of you are recoiling in horror, because you don’t mind and even like to be licked by your pets.  I love you, but you are fucked up.  To prove it, I offer you the following, actual conversation that occurred between me and the dogs.

Me:  Oh, you two little rat faces!  I’m fine.  Stop worrying about me.  Come and let me snuggle you and bite you on the neck a little and give you kisses.

Dogs:  Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp.

Me:  [Trying to get away from them as quickly as possible, screaming in pain because of my back.]  No kisses, no kisses.  I don’t like kisses.  Kisses are grody.

Dogs:  [Awkward looking faces, small tongue gestures but trying not to actual make contact with me.]

Me:  I know this is not fair.  It is not fair that I get to kiss you all over your faces until you want to call Animal Control to save you.  Meanwhile, you can’t kiss me back.

Dogs:  [Contempt in eyes.  Heads bobbing in agreement.]

Me:  Let me ask you this:  Can you lick your own butthole and other no-no places?  Can I lick my butthole and other no-no places?

Dogs:  [Heads shaking indicating that I can’t, but then a weird look in the old one’s eyes that I think said, “No, but I’ve seen you try to do it.”  WHICH IS A TOTAL LIE, I swear.]

Me:  See?  This is why you can’t give me kisses but I can give you kisses.

And with that, I conclude this lesson on why you people who let animals lick your faces are dirty, E. coli covered, cesspools.  You are welcome.





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Wild Animals Gone Wild (huh?)

In tonight’s OMG JESUS FUCKING CHRIST NEWS ALERT, the town of Zanesville, Ohio has been overtaken by wild animals that lived at a farm near the town.  FORTY-MOTHER FUCKING-EIGHT OF THEM!  Really, though, there isn’t much to worry about.  They are just “‘mature, very big, aggressive’ exotic animals—including lions, cheetahs, tigers, apes, wolves and bears.”

How did they escape?  Well, if you don’t have time to read the Gawker article, then let me summarize:  Their owner turned up dead after they turned up along the side of a god damn interstate highway.  Gee, I wonder what happened to him.  As a horse, I can feel the panic welling up inside of me.  Thank Mother Nature that I live like 2,500 miles away from those horrible beasts.

Although they want to eat me and you, they clearly have a sense of humor, because they have already started tweeting.  No shit: @ZanesvilleLion @ZanesvilleWolf @ZanesvilleBear

Now, people of Zanesville and surrounding areas, try to get some sleep.

UPDATE:  This also happened today.  So, next time you see a “Deer Crossing” sign, WAKE THE FUCK UP and pay attention.

UPDATE:  I bet no one ever thought that the lovely creatures who were saved on a giant Ark by a man named Nevada . . . no, Nathan . . . shit . . . was it Nicolas?  Whatever.  Who knew they would all come back and torture us before they ate us.  Last Supper style.  Now it’s the god damn kitty kats.  Giant ones.

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I have been way too farking serious lately.  All those stupid Occupy Seattle posts are a total boner-kill, both literally and figuratively.  Trust me.

So, I took this picture for you.  Yes, you.

Bumper Sticker

Important Reminder!

An important reminder to love your chubby, husky, pleasingly plump, voluptuous, or just plain fat friends and family, brought to you by the Toyota Prius.  They could save your life one day.

I love it for so many reasons, not the least of which is that it’s a new take on the whole evolution vs. creationism debate.  Sorta like this, but a little more subtle:

Evolution on Creationism

Bang it OUT!

I don’t know where you get the Fatty-Bear bumper stickers, but if you want one of those klassy, sexy little fish emblems, you should go here (they are on sale right now for only $3.50).

You can thank me later.



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In this episode of Extravagant Gay Lifestyle (TM), it is Friday night at 10:00p.  Me and the Reg.Dom.Partner are in bed with our 8 year old neice and two 60 lb. dogs watching something that looks like a square, yellow sponge wearing pants and that laughs like its having a grand mal.  She (the neice, not the sponge thing) is here for the weekend from points south, and tomorrow we are going to pick up our two year old twins from the Mamas and take an over-night road trip in a mini van packed with diapers and baby butt creams and enough gear to keep us alive for a month to visit family for the weekend.  Shocking and scandalous, I know.

And you know the most freaking ridiculous part?  We’re excited, and so is every single member of our very “New Millenium” family.  The mamas, the papas, the in-laws, the grand-parents, the siblings, the friends, and mostly, all the kids.

Crazy damn gays and their Extravagant Gay Lifestyles (TM).

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The Pits

So, a few minutes ago, I clicked on what I thought was going to be a link to Forbes’ list of the top real estate blogs.  Much to my surprise and delight, I found an unidentifiable creature that is getting his/her/its armpits scratched and is IN SEVENTH HEAVEN!

Now, I want my armpits scratched.

Thanks @raincityguide for the inadvertent but delightful error!

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