- My Blog

CUTLER 01/23/2012

PEYTON 01/20/2012

Knuckles 11/21/2011

Knuckles

After being spoken to like he was a dumb baby his entire life, Knuckles reached the breaking point and died from a self-inflicted shotgun blast. (image: William Siers, FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

A Guide to Effective Social Networking 11/04/2011

Take a half hour and share a seemingly endless string of music videos from YouTube, making my feed even more mind-numbing and pointless by simultaneously showcasing your preference for terrible music and hogging visual space with the video’s preview square.

Take a picture of a plate of food because I want to see it. This is a great way to gain culture points, whether the picture showcases a luxurious presentation of poached baby salmon embryos with goat chutney or a grainy upload of a sub-par brunch on an Art Deco plate.

Please take a picture of your glass of beer and let everyone know of its rarity relative to your geographic area. Try to capture the bartender in the background. Proclaiming your devotion to Moerlein’s Horsefoot Pumpkin Bucket Lager via social media is a great way to let people know that your mouth always smells like shit.

MORE VIDEOS OF YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS DANCING!

Ridicule and berate your baby’s daddy or your mom or your ex-best friend in an incoherent paragraph of typed puke. Capitalize letters randomly and punctuate according to your own rules. Make me work to figure out what you are trying to say! Use bad words. Consider focusing your energy on strengthening these strained relationships.

Entitle an album “Randoms” and fill it only with pictures of you, taken by you. Be sure to include a lame border on two thirds of them, and coloring variations on the rest.

Can we go much further with the baby updates? Do we just skip sharing pictures of freshly bombed diapers and go ahead and post video of the actual tub birth?

Today, we honor these dogs. 06/27/2011

Tammy

Tammy was annihilated by a pack of rogue wolves after talking shit to them from a distance for several weeks. The wolves are in critical condition. (image: Maggie Smith, FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

Gary

Gary died from sudden constipation after eating a catcher’s mitt. He will be remembered for being deeply confused by babies. (image: luigi diamanti, FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

Doug

Doug leaped off of a cliff while in non-violent pursuit of a butterfly. He had been following the butterfly for several hundred hours. (image: Maggie Smith, FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

God Bless You, Trusty. 06/11/2011

Trusty
Trusty died from shock Wednesday after hearing the introduction to “The Thunder Rolls” by Garth Brooks. He struggled with this song his entire life.

Trusty was born on May 23, 1996 after a female dog in heat was knocked up by an unknown male dog. He spent his life in Northwestern Maryland, serving as a security guard at a suburban house. In his later years, he became a master at making his farts sound identical to the sigh of a human.

Trusty was outwardly vocal about his homophobic beliefs, yet was often caught thrusting in the immediate vicinity of numerous male dogs. He attributed this behavior to involuntary canine instinct. He is survived by several potentially gay neighbor dogs. Trusty battled clinical depression, hardwood floors, bipolar disorder, irritable bowel syndrome, schizophrenia, spastic colon, emphysema, arthritis, and diabetes. He was always thankful for the unwavering love of his owners and for the rotting animal carcasses that he enjoyed rolling in and eating. He was addicted to Benadryl.

He was involved in many activities, including jogging, hating cameras, eating tinsel, sheepishly sniffing anuses, and eating really fast. In lieu of flowers, please pee on someone else’s flowers.

ANOTHER FAKE DOG OBITUARY! 06/03/2011

Georgia
Georgia died of a tiny heart explosion on February 23 after chasing a soccer ball in circles for 36 hours without stopping. She was sweet, cute, arrogant, loud, and had a pig ass.

Georgia was born on April 8, 2007, the only daughter of Milkwagon Trixie. She resided in a laundry basket on a porch in Bath, Indiana for her entire life and was best known for shrieking incessantly while humans ate. She hated wearing vests, and devoted her life to dangling in mid-air from dishtowels and violently trembling while staring at walls. She is preceded in death by countless moles and sparrows, who died by her crooked front paw.

A Jack Russell Terrier bred purely for combat, she was an active member of a bird murdering society. She also enjoyed ruthlessly slaughtering moles, and shredding rubber cheeseburgers into hundreds of unidentifiable pieces.

She will always be remembered for displaying an irrational sense of entitlement and claiming everything and everyone as her own personal property.

Memorial contributions can be made in the form of crumbled sausage, piles of dead birds, or cold hot dogs cut into small discs.

FAKE DOG OBITUARY! 05/31/2011

I want to write a book of fake dog obituaries. Consider this your free preview. If you play your cards right, there could be more to come. Don't worry, he's not really gone.

Otto
Otto finally got drilled by a cattle truck on April 4 after spending his entire life pointlessly sprinting alongside motor vehicles, assuming they were trespassing onto the land of his owners.

Otto was born on March 16, 1999 as the result of an unplanned pregnancy involving two random dogs. He called Bath, Indiana his home, but most will remember him for his drifter tendencies and passion for the transient life. Preceding him in death are his parents, Benedict and Harriet. He is survived by eight brothers and one sister.

Throughout his life, Otto was involved in many activities, including pissing contests, vomit eating, dragging toilet seats to the steps, biting the tires of speeding ATVs, living in a barn, eating possums whole, pretending to be busy when his owners pulled in the driveway, letting serious gaping wounds heal on their own time, running from the sound of gunfire, and repeatedly allowing his tail to be sexually clutched by much smaller female dogs.

Otto’s greatest accomplishment was that his owners never saw a single piece of his shit.

In lieu of flowers, please steal money from businesses that pamper dogs, or leave unwrapped Wendy’s Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers in the grass.

God has to be real, and this is why. 10/23/2010

There are no words to properly express how good I feel whenever the Yankees lose a playoff series. This level of bliss can only be explained by the presence of a higher power. I'm not going to say God hates the Yankees, because they have too many rings for that to be true. However, I woke up Saturday morning and the air was cleaner, the sun was brighter, I had a jump in my step, and all of my neighbors were clones of Bob from the Cialis commercial. Additionally, a herd of Welsh Corgi puppies were singing an acapella version of this song.