Tag Archives: dogs

5 Reasons Nature Hates Me

I will fuck you up.

I will fuck you up.

I’ve always had weird experiences with animals, probably because when I was a child I caused the inadvertent death of 5 baby mice.

We found them in a nest in one of my mom’s sweaters. I took great pains to place them gently into a matchbox filled with Easter grass. I spoke to them softly and I made them as comfortable as I could. Then I walked outside and very respectfully buried them alive.

What the ever loving fuck? I know. I don’t get it either. It wasn’t until much later that my mother casually pointed out that I was a killer. The entire time I thought of myself as this noble, kind little girl, giving the poor, motherless mice a dignified funeral. It would’ve been perfect, had the little fuckers been dead first.

I’ve never actually thought about the source of the enmity between me and the natural world. But now that I look back, it’s clear that I brought this upon myself.

Shit. I just remembered that I may have caused the drowning death of two hamsters. Fuck. No wonder my adult life has been plagued with snakes and goats.

Moving on.

I don’t think I accidentally injured, maimed, or outright killed any other pets until I was an adult.

Hold on, I need to go make sure my pets/children have food. And water. And air. Jesus.

You know, I started writing this to hopefully amuse some of you. Little did I know that I was going to delve into my past and learn that statistically I should probably be a serial killer. Let’s all take a moment to be thankful that I’ve always lacked ambition.

Okay, so there was the Year of the Goat. I’m not sure if this kind of goat-mayhem goes on in everyone’s life and they just don’t talk about it…or maybe it’s just me. Then there was the snake infestation which, by the way, is still ongoing. In light of my earlier revelations concerning my predilection for accidental murder, I think it’s safe to say that these snakes have been sent to destroy me.

Fuck.

I killed a bird too.

But really, it was the bird’s fault. I didn’t have my windows down on purpose so the little feathered fuck could fly in and smack against the back glass. I also had no idea what was happening as I drove down the road and suddenly my entire car was full of feathers. I don’t think this one is on me. The fact that I stopped at Sonic and gently removed the bird from my car with a pair of drumsticks ought to clear my name, I think. Maybe that bird woke up later and ordered some fries. Or maybe it was already dead and the people at Sonic still talk about the girl driving around with musical instruments and dead animals. Who knows.

Do you know anyone this lacking in common sense? Am I the only one Mother Nature has put a hit out on?

 


And This Is Why I’m A Cat Person

I’ve been trying to come up with a delicate way to introduce this topic, but I have come to the conclusion that there just isn’t one.

So.

I once suffered attempted ear-rape by two large Doberman Pinschers.  Simultaneously.

There.  I said it.  My name is Stephanie and I am scared of large dogs, specifically ones who look like they might try to hump my face.

Like this, only two, and on my face.

Like this, only two, and on my face.

I got myself into this unfortunate situation by going to a party with a couple of girlfriends.  It was a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing, and I only knew about four people there.  So, since we all know how great I am at chatting up strangers, I had too many a few drinks.

At one point during the night we were all gathered in the living room.  I was sitting on the floor towards the front of the room, just minding my own business, when I felt a weight on my right shoulder.  I was turning my head to investigate when I felt pressure on my left shoulder.

That’s right.  Whichever way I turned, all I could see was furiously pumping Doberman crotch.

I couldn't see their faces, but I suspect they looked just like this.

I couldn’t see their faces, but I suspect they looked just like this.

I remember screaming and trying to scramble awkwardly away, but they were pretty heavy, and there was the added obstacle of trying desperately not to be touched by a dog penis.

I also remember a LOT of laughter.  You’re welcome, assholes.

The dogs’ owner finally got the beasts contained, but it was too late.  I was scarred for life.  To this day I try to keep away from large dogs, especially males.  Apparently, my animal magnetism is just out of this world.

Please, share your story of humiliation at the hands (ha) of man’s best friend.  Surely we’ve all been leg-humped a time or three.  What else have these furry, four-legged perverts been up to that I should watch out for?


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