It really bums me out when my friends are having a shitty time of it. I just had a long conversation with one of my favorite people ever. I love this woman like she’s my sister. And she’s going through some really. really. shitty times right now. I wish I had the power to wave my magic wand, or sprinkle some unicorn fart dust (which is magic glitter, y’all), that would make it all better. But I can’t. I suck that way.
Honestly, I’m in my own boofuckinhooness this week. My mom passed away a year ago on the 19th of this month. And no matter what I do, I can’t seem to remember anything lately, but that awful morning. Clearly and vividly. Yuppers, I need a little therapy. Or medical marijuana. Just kidding, kids. Pot never fixes anything. Ever. It’ll give you hairy palms. Oh wait. That might be something else. Let’s just go with, never fixes anything, and leave it at that. Ok, kids?
Seriously, the only thing I’ve ever found that helps anything in a time like now, is a big fat martini. Just kidding…. Ok, kids, stop reading this paragraph and pick up with the next one. The big people are gonna talk here…..
Are they gone?
Yes, the martini helps. But the only reason I find that it helps, is because it seems to lube up the giggle flow. So really, it’s less the alcohol and more the laughter that helps here. Right?
Hi kids, you can start reading here again. Though I can only imagine that this will freak the shit out of you. Mama’s gonna say “vagina.” Not talking about my own… but anyway…. proceed at your own risk. Brain bleach not included.
So when I’m feeling cruddy, I try to think of something funny. My friend, I hope you’re reading this, because this is for you.
I will never forget, one afternoon on the way home from school, I saw two dogs. And they were, uh, connected. Now, I’d seen dogs connected before. Because somewhere along the way, nature decided that a pooch’s privates were going to remain stuck in the mating mash-up until the lady-dog’s vagina-vice says the party’s over. Rover may decide when he’s going to throw her a bone, but Lassie will drag him around for a nice, long, post-pokie parade lap. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a pair of pooches in this position. Lassie dragging Rover around by his snausage, while Rover has a look on his face somewhere between, “WTF!?” and, “Can ya help a guy out here!?” It’s pretty comical.
So on this particular day, many, many years ago, on my way home from school, I saw the two dogs connected. However, somehow the poor guy had got his hind leg stuck in the vice of Lassie’s lady grip. In retrospect, I find this horrifying, and can only imagine that some cruel person, did this to these dogs for sick shits and giggles. I have trouble imagining that Rover was hiking his leg for a squirt, and Lassie tripped and got her vagina stuck on his paw. I mean, stranger things have happened. There are guys who are really, really bad at sex. I guess there could be dogs like this as well. But I doubt it. There were some really sick fucks in our neighborhood. And this resembled their past handy work.
I’ve wondered many times over the years, what happened to those poor dogs. I only saw them briefly as we drove by. But that sad little visual made a lasting impression. (I was twelve. I laughed my ass off.) I just imagine Lassie dragging Rover through the doggie door at home. “Hi mom! I brought a friend home for dinner. Can ya help us out here? I think we’re gonna need a cigarette as soon as we can figure this shit out.”
My friend, I know life kind of blows right now. And it’s hard to find the humor in things, at times. But if all else fails, think of “Magic Rover and his Amazing Disappearing Paw,” and remind yourself, that things can always be worse. At least your foot isn’t stuck in a dog’s vagina.