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Category: pets

Okay Fido, Fetch Me A Large Meatball Sub With Extra Gravy And Sprinkles On Top

Okay Fido, Fetch Me A Large Meatball Sub With Extra Gravy And Sprinkles On Top


I wish someone would throw tacos at me. Pets are treated like royalty these days. When was the last time someone threw a slice of pizza at you? Probably hasn’t happened, but this dog is getting delicious food thrown at him every day. Why do we stand for such injustice? Why have we formed an organization to protect animals, but not an organization to protect delicious food? As god as my witness, I’m going to found People for the Ethical Treatment of Hamburgers as soon as I can be bothered to get out of bed.

He’s giving that dog people food, and that really grinds my gears. Before you know it, the dog will be sitting on the couch, watching TV, getting hair everywhere, and making an absolute mess because he thinks he’s a person. Outrageous. People get people food, and dogs get dog food; that’s the way it’s always been and always should be. On occasion you can throw your dog what’s left of a massive t-bone steak, so you can feel like the king of a medieval domain, feeding your noble hunting dogs with table scraps when you run out of slow-moving peasants. Other than that, no people food.

What I’m really trying to get at, is that you shouldn’t be throwing perfectly good food away like that. You should be giving it to me. I’m so much better than a dog. Dogs can’t thank you after eating all your food. Dogs can’t fix your toilet in return for croissants. A dog can’t sit in their bathrobe and stink up your living room while eating soup out of a mason jar. I can do all of that — and I won’t poop on your carpet.

Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head

Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head

I had a girlfriend with cheek pouches that extended all the way to her hips like a hamster’s — as you can imagine she didn’t appreciate it when I’d try to climb in, so she could carry me around in her massive pouches. She also didn’t like it when I referred to her cheeks as massive pouches. She got quite mad when I used the word massive to describe any part of her. This is probably why I started the sentence with I had a girlfriend. All I wanted to do was ride around in her pouches like a baby kangaroo; is that too hard to understand?

Ladies, your massive cheeks pouches aren’t something that you need to hide or be ashamed of. Hideous deformities that are vaguely useful should be praised and cherished. Even if you’ve got a horse face, trucker arms, and a ridiculous haircut there’s still some hope — you can probably get a prime-time TV show on NBC.

The True Borderline Sociopathic Boy Doesn’t Settle

The True Borderline Sociopathic Boy Doesn’t Settle

We don’t leave well enough alone. We tinker. We wonder if that bonfire could use a little accelerant. And by “a little” of course we mean, “a lot.”

So when we see Jurassic Park, we’re prone to just wave our hands and say, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah blah; velociraptors. Whoopty.” And then we’d put something really vicious in there instead.

The true Borderline Boy doesn’t keep a vicious dog, because the true Borderline Boy bites people he doesn’t like himself, and doesn’t want to lose the fun of it by subcontracting it out to a rescued pit bull mix. We keep cats, because they’ll bite their friends, too, including you, five seconds after you fed them, if you unwisely get between them and the bowl. It’s the only true sign of  a worthy adversary.