What up Peeps, (It's Easter so I decided to go easy on the cussing. Yes, I am a complete and utter heathen with no regard for decent language and all that. But I was raised a Christian. The pack of monkeys that found me on the side of the road in Madagascar and raised me were a rather wild, but God-fearing bunch. And I like to think that Jesus will forgive me for all of my sins when I repent...this repentance better come sooner rather than later. BTW, Happy Easter!)
I'm back. Decided to post this one while I still had the inclination to. Not only am I a world champion procrastinator, I really can't remember to do anything unless I do it right away or write myself a note. Those of you who know me know that my favorite notepad is my left forearm and I really prefer to write my notes in black sharpie. But, I'll use whatever writing implement is around, including switchblades and sewing needles. (JUST JOKING about the switchblades and needles. I gave those up years ago. But seriously, I find that black sharpie is permanent enough to last all day. And it usually washes off in two showers. The more you know...)
Anyhoo, this post will serve to introduce one my children. Bender's the other puppy and I'll get around to posting a pic of both dogs one of these days. I should probably write that down. BRB...looking for a sharpie. The post is a bit long-winded like its author. You may want to take a pee break right about now.
Since I became a dog in owner in July 2008, a lot of my funny stories or mishaps involve my dog. Her name is Nibbler. She is a designer mutt. Well, in my humble opinion she’s designer. Everyone sweats her like she’s some kind of Louis Vuitton purse or pair of Fendi shoes. Anyhoo, Nibbler is black with a little patch of white on her tummy area. She’s absolutely adorable. I’ll get around to posting a pic one of these days, scratch that just did. Her father is a Maltipoo named Calvin and her mother is a Japanese Chin or Pekingese named Ebony (just learned about the Pekingese thing). She was born and bred in Montserrat, West Indies. And she is the most West Indian dog I’ve ever met. She loves ackee and saltfish, turned cornmeal, chicken pilau, curried goat roti and hardo bread. And she always marches to the beat of her own drummer-that means that she does whatever the bleep (remember, it's Easter) she wants to do. Sometimes she’ll listen and follow commands, but that’s only because she feels like doing it or you’re waving a piece of mozzarella in her face.
[Ok, so I lied about the food part (not the mozzarella-it’s her favorite). But she will pretty much eat anything you give her, right Mr. Man? Her usual diet consists of Science Diet dog food Highfalutin, huh. The girl won’t eat grocery store brands. She also gets Greenies, and what ever Mr. Man* is eating at the time because he is hard-headed and can’t understand that she needs to avoid all human food. She also ate $65 cash money two weeks ago, but I really can't go into that right now. The wound is still fresh.]
Not one to tell half-truths, but Nibbler totally takes after her human mother. We’re both incredibly stank and we both gain weight if we even think about food. And with her petite 9 pound frame, just one chicken leg can put her in the 10 pound range. And that is not cute. On the other hand, thick women (note, women are not fat they are THICK) are few and far between. They should be cherished and put upon pedestals and worshipped. I can say I have little bit of experience in that area. Not much though… I am so full of it.
On yet another side note, isn’t it amazing how much rambling I do? I am so A.D.D. that one topic always leads to another and the next thing you know I’m running down my street flagging down only green cars. And listen, nobody said that the stuff I write has to be intelligible, ok. If you ever have a question about what the heck I’m talking about just ask me. I’m always willing to answer questions, just not stupid ones.
Back to my original story. Hold on, I got to reread what I wrote because I forget what I was going to tell you. Oh, ok. Yeah, I was going to tell you about a really short incident with Nibbler this afternoon. But yet again, I have to give some more background info. Nibbler always follows me wherever I go…even to the bathroom. And since I’m a sucker for a sad-eyed puppy, I usually leave the bathroom door while I’m peeing so she doesn’t freak out and start looking all over for me. She likes this and usually sits and waits patiently while I finish my business and wash my hands. Then we’re off. I used to be freaked out by having her watch me, but I’m cool with it now. Mr. Man thinks it’s gross, but I don’t care. As long as my puppy is happy, right?
It’s important to know that Nibbler is NOT allowed in the bathroom. And although she tries to sneak in every once in a while when no one is looking, she knows to stay her cute little tush out of there or Human Mama, aka me, will put the smack down.
So today, I made myself some kielbasa for lunch. I like kielbasa, you got a problem with that? After doing some random stuff I went back over and took a few more pieces of kielbasa straight out of the pan. Then I went into the bathroom to take a slash. As is her custom, here comes Miss Thing sitting outside the door keeping watch to make sure I don't escape. So, I’m looking to the right of me into a little mirror I keep on the window ledge next to the toilet and peeing at the same time. (If you must know, I was admiring my new haircut.) All of a sudden I feel a lick on the left side of my backside. I’m not much of a freak, so I’ve never really had my boo-tay licked before. Yeah, I should probably get out more. Naturally, I was quite shocked. As I shrieked and turned to see if it was really Nibbler, she took the opportunity to lick my kielbasa juice laden fingers. In her quest to get her greedy little doggie self some kielbasa residue, she missed and licked my bottom as I was on the pot. What in the monkey heck was all of that? I shrieked so loudly that Mr. Man came running up the stairs as I laughed hysterically (and was still on the pot). Needless to say he wasn’t as amused as I was…like I give a toot. (I’ve always had the unique ability to laugh at the stupidest stuff. I’m quite good at amusing myself. Probably why I love my blog and the rest of you are like,"What the heck is this?"
So, after reading this extra long post, you now know a bit about my puppy and perhaps you even laughed a bit or shook your head in disgust. I’m off to go eat some more kielbasa while Nibbs is still asleep.
Monkeyingly Yours,
M.M. Misfit (Aren't you proud of me for not swearing? Maybe I can make it next year's New Years Resolution.)
*Mr. Man is my husband. If I ever mention him by name or tell ANYTHING he deems too embarrassing about him, I am sure to suffer a quick and painless disembowelment.
No comments:
Post a Comment