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This dog’s broken

This is not a real post.  It’s just an update on my last one.  Real post coming…

So apparently there’s already a famous pug named Chester and another one named Truman and Victor hated “Mr. Pickles” so I brought up Anissa’s suggestion that we name him “My Vagina” because it would be awesome to hear our (male) vet be all “Someone hook an IV up to My Vagina”.  “My Vagina looks lonely.”  “Who gave My Vagina a squeaky toy?”  “My Vagina is extremely overweight.  What are you feeding it?” and then there would be some much-needed levity one day when the vet has to say “I’m sorry, but My Vagina has terminal cancer” and we’d all laugh and laugh.  And then, many years from now, we’ll have a tiny gravestone that says only “My Vagina:  In our hands for a moment, Now with Jesus forever.”   And then I couldn’t stop giggling about all the adventures I’d have with My Vagina and Victor was all “I don’t think you’re mature enough to have a puppy”.  So instead we named him Barnaby Jones (Pickles). 

So I took that mock-up I made of Barnaby Jones with his dreidel earrings and emailed it to the piercing hut to see how much it would cost and they didn’t respond at all.  Probably because they’re anti-semitic.  So then I emailed them again and said “Okaaay, how about a belly ring?” and I haven’t gotten a response but I guess that doesn’t even matter because right after that I rolled Barnaby Jones over and discovered HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A BELLY BUTTON.  And I called Victor and I’m like “This dog’s all broken” but then I went online to look at pictures of other dogs’ stomachs and it turns out that none of them have belly buttons which doesn’t make sense at all because almost all animals have umbilical cords so why is it that no animals have belly buttons except for dolphins and now that I think about it I’m not even sure that that thing on the top of a dolphin is even a belly button?

Then later I took Barnaby Jones to the pet store and I was all “Where do you keep the collars with the kegs on them?” and the clerk just looked at me and I was all “You know?  Those little whisky kegs that St. Bernards carry arround in the Alps?” and the clerk was like “Uh…we don’t have anything like that” and I was all “You don’t have it in small sizes for pugs or you don’t carry them at all?” and he was all “Uh…both?”  So I guess it must be seasonal?  Then I thought I would make one myself by filling Hailey’s Monkeys-in-a-Barrel game with whiskey and then threading it through his collar but then I realized that the first time Barnaby Jones rolled over on his back the whiskey would drain out of the holes I poked in the barrel to thread the collar though.  Except it wouldn’t be real whiskey because I wouldn’t waste actual booze until I had tested it and so instead I’d use water mixed with yellow food-coloring and then Victor’d see the stains and yell at Barnaby for peeing on the floor and I’d be all “Don’t yell at him for peeing!  He just rolled over for a tummy scratch and spilled all the whiskey.  Yell at him for that.” And then Victor’d get all mad at me and I’d assure him that it wasn’t real whiskey because I was just testing it to make sure it worked and he’d be all “If it was just a test then why wouldn’t you just use clear water?  Why the hell would you purposely add dye to it?” and I’d be all “Because then he would have known it wasn’t real and wouldn’t have taken it seriously.” And then Victor’d threaten to take the dog back and I’d be all “It was a full dress rehearsal!” but Victor totally wouldn’t get it and he’d get all shouty and I’d be all “If anything you should be thanking me for not wasting all our whiskey.  Asshole.”  Oh my God, I am so mad at him.

Comment of the day: Perhaps you could just get him an holster for those little airplane bottles of booze. That seems more size appropriate. Plus you could have a selection!  “No My Vagina, I said Vodka! Not Tequila! Bad My Vagina!”  I can totally see Quiet Asian neighbor now. “Did she say ‘Come my vagina.’?  Orgasm on demand, like Tivo?  Why we not have that yet?” ~ Evening

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