Posts Tagged ‘poop’

Dear loyal readers…

Wednesday, November 16th, 2011

Dear Hugh Hefner…

Wednesday, June 15th, 2011

85-year-old horndog Hugh Hefner was dumped by his 25-year-old aspiring pop singer fiancee yesterday, the same day she dropped her first single in iTunes.  Such a CRAZY COINCIDENCE, right?  It almost feels like she was using him to get some publicity for her fledgling music career, but that’s impossible because if anyone is a good judge of character it’s Hugh Hefner.  He loves the sincere, genuine, intelligent, type.

I SAY GOOD FOR THIS CHICK!  Hef was using her for her giant perky knockers and 25-year-old ladyparts and she was using him to get some downloads of the otherwise overwhelmingly unnoteworthy auto-tune mess called Club Queen.  Sounds like a fair trade to me!


Dear Amanda Bynes…

Wednesday, April 6th, 2011

Yesterday Amanda Bynes took to her twitter account to announce her adorable teacup Pomeranian Little Angel had gone missing. Several hours later things took a turn for the worse and she posted the upsetting news that Little Angel was no longer with us. So sad!

Life just isn’t fair. It’s stories like this that make one wonder: why do bad things happen to good dogs? And instead, why can’t bad things happen to bad dogs… like the giant Black Lab Stormy who lives next door to me and takes the most gigantic shits all over my neighborhood; huge Black Lab monster turds just waiting there for me to step in with my gym shoes (the good news is that I usually get a buffer of at least one elliptical machine on either side at the gym because no one wants to sniff doodie while they’re on the Precor.) Little Angel just hung out in Amanda Bynes’s purse all day. She probably took precious little rabbit turd-like poos which I’m sure a classy dame like Amanda would gingerly pick up with a tissue and immediately dispose of. Not like Stormy’s owner… she likes to let the boulder-sized dumps sit around and rot for awhile until they get all hard and white and crusty; it’s like a poop sculpture art installation out in front of my building — a mini dookie Stonehenge.

But somehow in this crazy, messed up world we live in, Little Angel is gone and Stormy’s alive and kicking and just shittin’ away the days. Good call, Universe! Goooood call.


How I'm handling the Stormy situation