THOSE ARE MY SHOES GIVE THEM BACK YOU ARE A DOG THEY DONT EVEN FIT

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My dog thinks he’s people. Like, really thinks he’s people.

Yesterday, he waltzed into the living room and complained about how hipsters are ruining everything. This is improper behaviour for a dog. Perhaps I have trained him badly.

He only eats kale and quinoa now. He’s on a paleo diet or something. Won’t even look at his kibble. Ever seen a dog scoff at something? I think that it’s him that’s really the hipster. Hipster dogster.

He owns an investment property on the west coast and he wants to purchase a small bungalow to rent out. I have tried using the spray bottle on him to deter this behaviour to no avail.

He has a credit card. He gets drunk and buys chew toys on Amazon. If I act more dominant, do you think that he will become more respectful with his purchases? I really want to be a pack leader.

I think that he’s doing drugs. Is he lashing out because he’s not stimulated enough? Maybe I need to take him for walkies more often, so that he can get enough exercise to not need to self-medicate.

He complains that I don’t respect his personal space. Ha! This is coming from the guy who will sit right next to my feet and lick his balls for an hour. Lousy hypocritical dog.

He says that he wants to take a year off of school to backpack around Europe and find himself. Duder can’t even find his own tail.

Winter Hope

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I hope that we don’t have another polar vortex this year. We really don’t need another snowmegeddon, snowpocalypse or snownarok.

I hope I don’t have to break out my thermal underpants, just to walk the dog.

I hope that I don’t have to chug hot chocolate to stay warm. (I will do it anyway, though.)

I hope global warming causes a year-round summer.

I hope that I don’t have to do that thing where you wear, like, three pairs of socks, in order to keep your toes from freezing solid and falling off.

I hope that I don’t have to fight that yeti again this year.

I hope that I don’t have to fight Santa VS the Snowman.

I hope that they re-release Die Hard, so that I can see it on the big screen or the first time.

I hope that the snow never gets too high for the pizza delivery guy.

I hope that the snow doesn’t knock the internet out

I hope that the polar bears don’t get me.

I hope that the whore frost doesn’t steal my man.

I hope that I can find snowshoes in my size.

I hope that a snowy owl won’t claw my eyes out.

I hope that The Day After Tomorrow doesn’t happen and a glacier chases me down a hallway.

I hope for delicious mulled wine to loll me to sleep.

I hope for Emo Philips to LOL me to sleep.

I hope or a luxurious winter coat made from lemur pelts.

I hope that the stupid Polar Express, with its mutant dead-eyed children, stays the Hell away from me.

I hope that I become the new Queen of Winter.

I Ate Half a Cake

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Yeah, so, I ate half a cake today… And I kinda want to eat the remaining half.

I’m pretty sure that cake is actually good for you. We’ve all been deceived by BIG VEGGIE into believing that cake is bad for you.

I’ll have you know that humans were eating cakes for centuries before they were eating vegetables, and we all know that the ancient ways are he best. In fact, neanderthals made cakes out of an ancient grain long since lost to the annals of time and that’s what gave them their hardy delicious beards. They were the hairiest and hardiest of men. We should all turn into neanderthals again. It would be great.

Imagine it: roaming the plains, stark raving naked, covered in beards and free as a crazy rabbit or something.

That’s how man is supposed to live.

You can’t be a neanderthal with an iPad. Don’t even try. You’ll fail. You’ll fail like your mother failed at raising you. That’s the worst kind of failure.

Your mom would make a better neanderthal than you. Your mom has a better beard than you. You should have listened to her when you were a kid.

Your mom never baked you a cake for your birthday, though. Maybe that’s where the trouble started. The trouble always starts when you are a child. If only we cold skip childhood, then everything would be hunky dory.

Sometimes, I use the phrases of an 85-year-old. The stole the words from him when he was spewing his dying breath. It’s easy to steal things from dying people.

When I’m on my death bed, someone will probably steal my cake.

My Ear is Still Being Weird

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Yeah, so, my ear is still making the weird rumbling noise. It’s now roughly in time with my heartbeat, which is ultra annoying.

I’m wondering now if it’s really goo, or maybe there’s something else going on here.

If there really are creatures living inside my ear, what should I name them? We have been very, very close over the last couple of days. It doesn’t seem right not to have a proper name to call them by.

Maybe there is an entire society living in my ear. Cute little towns stuck in my earwax. Farming ear mites. The little people can hear my thoughts. My corrupting influence leads them to violence and war. And then the rumbling sound stops. Forever.

Maybe I should stick a q-tip up there and jiggle it around a bit.

Mayhaps I shall go Van Gogh on this ear. That’ll learn it.

It’s the sound of my brain trying to escape. I just know it.

I’m probably just coming down with a cold and should chill out about worrying about the goo in my skull.

Half of My Head is Full of Goo

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So, like, my sinuses and my ear on one side of my head are full of goo and it’s very unpleasant.

I don’t think I have a cold, because my nose isn’t running. I just woke up and there was a bunch of goo collected in parts of my head. I have allergies, maybe that’s it.

My does my faces even need sinuses. Can I have them removed or filled in with caulking?

Every couple of seconds, my ear makes this weird rumbling noise and I can’t get it to stop. I mean, I think it’s just goo stuck in there. I hope it’s just goo in there. I hope it’s not actually spiders trying to claw their way out of my skull. Although, having a swarm of spiders bursting from my head and attacking my enemies might be cool.

How do I get all this goo out? I tried a warm compress, but it didn’t do anything. I’ve tried drinking several hot beverages to try and steam the goo out, but that didn’t work either. I’ll try shoving a pipe cleaner up there later.

Maybe this is just my life now. From this day forth, I’m just Lala McGooface.