That Time My Dog Ate:

  • raw meat
  • dirty shrimp tails from the garbage (as opposed to those really pristine clean shrimp tails that live in their own shrimp palaces and have shrimp maids)
  • coffee grounds
  • milk cartons
  • the paper that sticks of butter come in
  • toenail clippings
  • shoelaces
  • gloves
  • hats
  • Steve Madden sandals (two pair)
  • Victoria’s Secret bras (she really only goes for brand names. She’s like The Real Housewife of Ruining My Shit)
  • an entire EOS lipgloss; you know, the kind that come in the cute egg-shaped containers. The weird kind that are full of wax rather than dog food.
  • eight hamburger buns (I know you’re thinking, “Big whoop, I could do that.” But it was all at once. If you’ve eaten eight hamburger buns all at once, without a burger between them, and you’re not a dog, that’s super weird.)
  • a box of cocoa
  • a bag of Hershey’s Kisses with foil wrappers
  • 16 brownies (you know that whole, “omg chocolate KILLS DOGS” thing? Yeah, this bitch laughs in the face of danger)
  • a used tampon (found in the STREET, mind you)
  • popcorn
  • chicken wings
  • chicken bones
  • indiscriminate bones found in bushes, likely belonging to diseased rats and the undead
  • literally anything sticky
  • grass
  • dirt
  • snow
  • yellow snow (especially yellow snow)
  • piles of her own fur that collect in the corners of my apartment
  • her own vomit

Things my dog will never, ever, EVER eat, under any circumstances:

  • vegetables
Brought to you by this embarrassment.

Brought to you by this embarrassing drunk.


UPDATE: I totally forgot the time she finished off two white russians. The drink, not the people.


This Week In Pictures

So a lot of stuff has gone down recently. Some of this stuff is funny, and some of it is not funny. Since you’re probably way too busy and important (with things, like, oh I dunno, a job and adult responsibilities) to keep up with everything, and since I’m pretty much glued to my couch watching Lifetime movies, I’ve decided to do you a solid and sort it all out for you.

You know what happened this week that was decidedly not funny? My dog eating shrimp tails and coffee grounds out of our trash can and then…um…gassing us out.

Also not funny: the fact that Eva Mendes is apparently seven months pregnant with the son of God. Ryan Gosling, I thought we agreed that you would only impregnate me.

Additional non-funny recent events: That World Cup score. I know like….absolutely nothing about soccer except that it involves really nice, sculpted calves and sweaty South American men with thick curly hair…I forgot what we were talking about.

You know what is funny? Last week’s Supreme Court ruling about Hobby Lobby and birth control (I’m pretty sure telling people you shop at Hobby Lobby is all the birth control you need, but whatever). It’s funny because it’s such a ridiculously laughable decision, but it’s also not funny because half of the members of the highest court in America basically told women to go fuck themselves. (Cuz you can’t get pregnant that way. Duh.)

That about wraps it up for This Week In Pictures.

Also, I lied about there being pictures. Sometimes I lie. The world is a cruel, disappointing place. It’s best you learn this now.

An Open Letter to My Racist Neighbor, or: My Dog is a Better Person Than You

So yesterday I witnessed the strangest and most unexpected display of racism that I’ve ever seen in real life. Since most people don’t actually think that they’re racist, you might be surprised to hear that it was you, O Racist One, who was the star of the show.


This is not my dog, but I assure you that my dog is just as awesome.

Here’s a recap:

You, A White Person, became irritated at A Black Person (or otherwise darkly-hued individual of unknown ethnicity whom you assumed to be “black”) for crossing the street in front of your car. From what I could tell, the two of you engaged in a verbal argument which culminated in you (the White Person) calling him (the Black Person) the N-word. Like…a lot. Also, you threatened him with violence, called him several other terms which I will not print here (even with little stars in the place of the vowels), and said things like, “I’m not the [n-word] here. You are, you f*cking [n-word]. Do I look like a [n-word] to you?”


If we’re taking “the n-word” to mean bad, nasty, ugly, cruel, stupid, ignorant, uneducated, immature, disgusting, or backwards, then I have to say that yes, in fact. You do look like that.

Since you and I had crossed paths many times before, exchanging pleasantries and talking about our dogs, I guess I had assumed a few things about you. You’ve never been mean to me, so I suppose I assumed you were kind. You seem to be pretty cool to your dog, so I may have imagined you were a lover of animals (like, um, humans). You don’t immediately look like a demon, and you generally don’t carry any visible weapons or severed heads, so I guess I prematurely decided that you weren’t some sort of sociopath. (But then, that’s probably what all severed-head-carrying-sociopaths want us to think.)

Really, though, I didn’t know the truth about you because I, like you, am A White Person. (Which makes me a-okay in your book, I guess.)

I’m actually not sure what you were so mad about. Were you mad because the guy walked in front of your car? You you upset because he looked at you a certain way? Was he someone who has wronged you in the past, and you saw this as the perfect moment to exact your revenge?

Here’s the thing, though: Even if this guy was, like, a total douche, or waltzed in front of your car as you were trying to park and shot you a “sorry-not-sorry” type of look which I know can be super annoying and inconvenient, and even if you felt like you just had to say something: isn’t it at all possible that you could have thought of some other way to say it?

I take it you’re not at all clever, so I’ve kindly thought of some examples:

“Excuse me, but I’m trying to park here.”

Too mellow? Okay, I hear ya. What about something like, “Hey, buddy, why don’t you move it along?”

Not really driving the point home? Alright, I didn’t want to do this, because this blog is a classy place, but how about: “Get out of my way, asshole!”

Because, see, if you had said any one of these things, I would probably be on your side. I would think, “Why, my kind, animal-loving neighbor has been inconvenienced by this inconsiderate gentleman!” I would rush to your defense.

But you didn’t do that. You didn’t defend yourself or your position with language or reason or logic or respect. You didn’t explain why you were angry or try to talk it out. You didn’t ignore the situation and move forward with your life, letting bygones be bygones and inconsiderate assholes be inconsiderate assholes.

Instead, you took the easiest, most destructive path you could think of. Like millions before you, you decided to turn a conflict of interest into a conflict of power, asserting something about him, and about you, that you mistakenly think makes you Better Than. That other dude didn’t “play the race card.” You did.

You took the coward’s way out.

I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t defend him, or contradict you. I was afraid of making the situation worse or scarier or further agitating you in some way. I’ve wished all day that I had said something so that he knew I didn’t feel that way about him, that I didn’t think he was scary or stupid or worthless. In fact, like you, I didn’t know anything about him at all.

I can’t imagine what it must feel to be reduced to a slur every time I bug someone. I’m White, and Heterosexual, and Middle-Class, and a few other things which put me in The Majority. Which is a pretty good place to be, especially if you happen to walk in front of some racist’s car.

Listen, if you get into a fight with A Gay Person, and your only response is to call them a faggot, you are a homophobe. If you get into a fight with A Woman, and the only insult you can think of is “bitch” or “slut,” you have a serious problem with women. If you get into a fight with A Black Guy, and all that comes to mind is the n-word, you are a racist.

Oh and also, you’re probably pretty stupid.

So anyway, the other dude walked past me, and into the evening. For all we know, this was just one of hundreds of racial minefields he navigates daily, desperately trying not to get blown up.

You looked at me, smiled, called out, “Goodnight!” and retreated into your house.

My dog tried to chase after you, but I caught her leash and walked her home.

You are not a good person, and I don’t think I want our dogs to play together anymore. I don’t want your ignorant and pathetic backwards beliefs or utter lack of rhetoric and human decency to rub off on her, because she loves everybody. Even you.