It’s A Slob Eat Dog World
This one time I ate a hot dog at Burger King.
Source: Alyson Thomas
Is it just me or has life been different of late? You know, since Burger King let the dogs out?
Who, who, who, who?!
Burger King, that’s who!
Burger King has a hot dog in it.
Lord have mercy on our souls.
100% beef sausage wiener
Splayed out naked on a roll.
I’ll expose the facts
Although it fills me with disgust.
Please excuse the filthy dark details,
And carnal lust.
You guessed it. I had me a hot date with a dog. It went down a little something like this.
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Dr. Tom’s Crunchy Elixir of Magical Cure
I admit it. I posted an article over on the Nudge Wink Report. Don’t believe me? Feel free to frisk my taco.
A modern tragedy in three acts.
Alternate headline: Dr. Tom’s Magical Elixir of Crunchy Cure. (This is another installment in our ongoing Choose Your Adventure series. -Ed.)
ACT I
This space intentionally left blank.
And scene.
ACT II
“Is that a gun in your vagina or are you just happy to see me?”
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The Business Omen: Bodes of Portends
My organization asked me to select a vendor, conduct negotiations, and secure their services. To that end I put on a suit and tie. I also washed myself. (With soap this time.) This was important.
Naturally I selected a slick company that was “unparalleled” and the “world’s best” at what they did. I was connected with a sales person. We did a little dance.
I filed reports with the CEO about what I learned. He got back to me. He was going with my recommendation.
Oh, shit.
A world-class application. (Artist rendering.)
ERROR. (See right.)
Every journey begins with a single step. Each step is an interval where you can be screwed. Enjoy the journey.
“Thanks for choosing ACME Velociraptors Inc. LTD Corp.,” said the salesperson who was now my close personal friend. “I’ll give you a call on Monday to go over implementation.” He even bade me, “Have a nice weekend.”
It’s now Monday. I’m literally stunned that he didn’t call. Am I supposed to wait three days before I call him? I don’t want to look desperate. Oh, forget it. I already emailed him a couple hours ago. He hasn’t called back.
Where did I go wrong? I thought he liked me.
This is one bump in the road too many. Suddenly I don’t feel so good. This is a bad omen, man. This does not portend well. Beware the bodes of business.
Is he born of a jackal or is that me? I’m new to this shit.
There Are Stupid Questions
Someone the other day said to me, “You should write another blog post.” Technically that’s not a question. Technically.
They say you should be careful what you wish for. At least that’s what my parents told me.
Hang on. Please. We’re not accepting questions till the end. Please let me finish. You see, I know a thing or two about stupid questions. I used to ask them. A lot.
I did it on purpose. Ain’t I a stinker?
Riding in Cars with Toys
Mom warned me about riding in cars with toys. Here’s a piece I wrote for Nudge Wink Report where I’m a field correspondent.
Remember when I died and was found leaning against the Pearly Gate’s back fence? Oh yeah. Good times. Apparently they had a meeting to decide if they were going to let me in. I tried but I realized I just wasn’t that worried about it. It’s all good, I thought. Apparently being dead gave me a whole new perspective on life. Who knew?
As if by magic St. Peter appeared in front of me. Perhaps even more weird, he was holding a clipboard.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked. “Before you died, I mean.”
Funny. I hadn’t really thought about it that way. Then it came to me. Yep, as easy as that. Wow. My memory was suddenly working again. I could get used to this place, I thought to myself.
“I was driving a car,” I replied. “So naturally I was looking at a computer screen. Oh…
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The Place Beyond The Whines
Never leave me alone with a cursed iPad.
Oh. Hi there. Please, come in. While you do I’ll cinch up my robe just a little bit tighter. I know you weren’t planning on visiting the gap. There. That’s better, I hope.
Welcome to my humble cabin in the woods here on Mount Hood. I like to call it our Mountain Bungalow. Why? Anything that starts with “bung” has gots to be good. At least that’s what the Theory of Smuckers tells me.
You’re right on time. My Casio wristwatch tells me that it’s oh-my-god-it’s early. I couldn’t sleep, either. There’s a dead calm nestled heavily in the forest surrounding us and the first feeble rays of morning light are just starting to creep in and tickle the treetops. But down here, on the forest floor, it’s just the right amount of mood lighting. Yawn. I guess you don’t really appreciate the sound of those incessant Portland trains until…
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