YSaC, Vol. 886: Cry… something, and release the dog-a-war!
Male Shiatsu dog
Male dog, shiatsu. A rehoming fee of $350. Great with kids. Loves to play with children and also good with other dogs. About 2 inch long hair. Color white. Feed dog food, meat and bones and other sorts of foods. Doses not bite. Loves to play “tug-a-war” If you have any further questions contact me at (xxx)-xxx-xxxx. Ask for serge and if no one answers the phone simply leave a message. Thank you!
It’s time for another installment in the if you can’t spell the breed, you shouldn’t own the dog series. Although if the dog really were able to give a shiatsu massage, that would simultaneously be awesome and kind of scary, given that dogs don’t actually have thumbs.
I’m so glad that Serge clarified that the dog eats dog food, meat and bones and other sorts of foods. I’m also grateful that he clarified what the standard procedure is if nobody answers the phone — I’ve been wondering for years why nobody has ever commented on the interpretive dance I do when nobody answers the phone!
I wonder if you get to choose what war the dog tugs. I vote for the War of the Oaken Bucket; I think it’s high time that Bologna avenged the loss of their bucket.
I have no idea what any of that means.
Thanks for the ad, Stephanie!
You know what with the price of massages and all, $350 for a dog that can perform shiatsu might be a bargain.
Would the equivalent of a Japanese massage be like a Chihuahua doing a tap dance on your back?
I dunno, Action, I’ve never had the pleasure of a tap-dancing Chi-hoo-ha on my back.
And if your hoo-ha’s on your back, you have more troubles than a massage dog can help you with.
I’ll just go sit in the corner.
She didn’t say it was her only hoo-ha, Camille.
*sends self to other corner*
I think you might be a popular lady if you had a few extra hoo-ha’s, even if they were on your back!
*Slowly backs into third corner
Well, you’d certainly be invited to join everyone’s group.
The fourth corner is mine.
And you could have a very lucrative film career.
:retreats to fifth corner:
Thank goodness the Snark Lounge is a hexagon.
So we’ve got 3 more corners to fill!
Maybe I shouldn’t use the word fill given the context of this discussion.
I can’t take two corners, can I?
So that means we’ve got three more corners to fill?*
* Disclaimer: I do actually know how many corners a real hexagon has. This comment is based on the assumption that the Snark Lounge is a CraigsList hexagon.
EDIT: Dammit, Taco, get out of my brain!
*notes the accomplishment of sending
56several of her fellow Snark Lounge denizens to one of the elebenty-hunnert corners that make up the six-sided hexagon octagon room*Wow, that has to be the best example of like-minded YSaCers ever…you even picked the same number of additional corners!
Something about a tap-dancing hoo-ha sounds painful. Metal hitting sharply against a surface…
Better for the backside.
Are there any corners left?
All my dog does is put her paw on my knee when I’m sitting down. This means either one of two things: “I want to eat whatever it is you’re eating” or “WALK! NOW!”
Uh-oh. You guys do know that the Snark Lounge is actually a circle, right?
Yes. It’s the Circle of Life, Mustafa.
Yay, another Lion!
I thought it was a Klein bottle.
Klein Bottle!
And there goes my anonymity. ::hopes for the best::
Bwehehe!
What a lovely bottle of Chianti AR! I didn’t know you worked in that kind of “lab”.
😉
We do have lots of yeast around…
[true story] When I first joined the lab, there was a tradition of making an alcoholic beverage every year. One year is was champagne for our advisor’s wedding, which I’m told did not turn out all that good. Most times it was beer, including one that was FinALE that was brewed for one student’s thesis defense party.
We haven’t done any beverage-making for a while because the person who lived near the store with the necessary supplies left, and no one felt like driving an hour round-trip to get there. [/story time]
I heard that this dude named Jeebus was good at making wine. And all he required was water. Stupid wedding party tricks.
AR, fermentation supplies are pretty easy to find on-line these days if you want to start up again. And if you’re worried about how well the organic ingredients will travel or keep, well, there’s always honey!
It involved a lot of effort, as I recall, and I’m not really a beer drinker, so I’ll pass.
Honey sounds good, though, fermented or otherwise. Mmm, sticky.
Words I never wanted to see together #264747elebenty: “Mmm, sticky.”
[fermentation corey] It’s common practice with people who have heavily planted aquariums to infuse the water with CO2 to make the plants grow bigger and healthier. This can be done with an expensive store-bought set-up, or a DIY contraption fueled by a soda bottle filled with sugar water and regular bread yeast. (sometimes things such as cheap fruit juice cocktails, very thin Jell-O, or Hawaiian Punch are used instead of sugar water)There are those who, instead of discarding the solution when they top up the container with fresh, will save it and drink it. From what I’ve read, it tastes about what you would expect a glass of fermented Jell-O/Hawaiian Punch/sugar water and bread yeast that has been bubbling away beside an aquarium for several weeks would taste like. The words “liquid death” are used quite frequently. But hey, free booze! [/fermentation corey]
I tried to teach my cat to massage my back. All I got for my trouble is a cat that insists on sleeping on the highest point of my body.
I had a cat who would massage my scalp when I was trying to sleep.
One of mine, Simon, likes to lick my face while I’m sleeping. It makes for an … interesting wake-up call.
Mine pats my face. And, if I don’t respond, my mouth. How my sleeping brain remembers that’s the cat’s paw and the paw spends time in the litter box, I do not know, but it does, and I wake up fast.
Sometimes when I lay on my stomach, my cat walks across me, but he has yet to start kneading. You’d think he’d be up for it, since he certainly likes kneading on my stomach/legs/arms/shoulder knees.
You cat owners have it so easy. My new love bird wants to put more holes in my ear lobe, and trys to show how much he loves me by regurgitating to feed me. 8/ Ew.
My cats can do the regurgitating thing, but it usually means someone found that Silly Band my niece lost.
And my cats don’t run the risk of strangling themselves or getting their feet all tangled up in dryer lint.
And I cannot see the name “Serge” without thinking of the hilarious character in “Beverly Hills Cop”, so now I’m reading this ad in that accent, and adding “Dawn be stuupid” after every line.
Very different kind of earworm, but an earworm nonetheless…and here it is just 0700.
You and me both, Seej.
And here I thought that you and Cj were perfect strangers.
Well, we are…kinda…I’m perfect and he’s strange.
What?
Oh, so you’re NOT the wisecracking city dweller and his hopelessly naive and well-intentioned, small-island, immigrant roommate/cousin?
That comment is fabulous! Just Faaaaahhhhhh bulous.
Now. I’m afraid to imagine what name one would ask for over the phone.
Given Sparkish spelling “Serge” could be
sir-gay
surge
sahyr GHEE
even
Circe or Chiurg
*retreats to mix of xmas music and FD radio traffic*
Do you have sample of this dance? I’ve never had problems with my interpretive dance messages, maybe I can help figure out what’s going on. Remember, large exaggerated motions.
For a second there I thought you were talking about huge exaggerated movements, which is a different topic entirely.
It is. Those flash mob things get disproportionate amounts of attention, considering how many people are actually involved.
What?
There was an incident the other day in a California mall where a choral group was going to “flash mob” the food court and sing for the people there.
Except they posted this on fliers and a billboard, so the mall got so crowded, some one thought the floor would “give way” <!?%gt;
Which then spawned a bit of paniced 911 calling.
Which then made things worse when the PD & FD then closed the mall and had everyone get out.
Probably likely a good thing it was a choral group and not a danve group–the videos show the place too crowded for “jazz eyebrows” let alone hands . . .
There’s some superb footage doing the rounds of a choral flash mob doing the Hallelujah Chorus. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXh7JR9oKVE should be it. Several minutes long, but worth it.
Wow. That was what was supposed to happen at that other mall.
Now, one is supposed to stand for the HC, which could confuse things.
Still spiffy.
“Feed dog food…”
Hrm… I didn’t realize that this was a problem….
If you need that sort of instructions regarding a pet, you are better off getting a plant. A fake plant.
I remember when my biology class in high school gave away the plants we were growing to the other teachers. The one given to my English teacher died quickly, as he honestly had no concept that plants need light and water to live. He was a terrible teacher who believed the only real author was Shakespeare and everything else did not count. When it came time for term papers, anyone who wrote about how wonderful Shakespeare is got an A, anyone who wrote about any other author got a C or below ( I was one of the ones who received a C ). He was fired a year after I had him as a teacher. He also looked exactly like a garden gnome (minus the red cap).
A garden gnome from a dead, or at the very least, ill-tended garden, presumably.
I’d like to think that he would be like the Evil Gnomes in Fable 3.
“My favourite things are music and sunshine and love… and pain.”
lol
Taco’s daily challenge!
Whenever you type ‘lol’ actually scream with laughter for 30 seconds. It’s awesome, trust me.
Indeed, I do just that, TM.
It’s good for your health… really.
What should someone do if they encounter (and I’m merely typing this for demonstrative purposes) the ever-annoying “LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!1111!!!!1111!!!!!elebenty”? Cackle like the Joker in a Nitrous Oxide factory?
If you’re typing that, odds are you’re already cackling like a howler monkey tripping on acid.
*sips coffee while dialing serge*
“Is Doses available for a non-biting massage at 10? All this Christmas card writing has given me a severe crick in the neck.”
I highly recommend the Kitty-Cat home version, it has a soothing white noise generator and is self-heating. And it comes with free acupuncture treatments!
Mine tend to move around at will. Does yours have any sort of device or accessory that makes it stationary?
When you have three, any time you achieve a horizontal position you are almost guaranteed a full body massage and acupuncture treatment.
Fearless goes into this sort of trance once she starts kneading on something, you can move her around a bit and she will just keep kneading until you make her stop. Firefly has a knack for curling up on my bad knee when I’m asleep, something about the steady heat and purring makes it feel much better.
At first glance, it looked like you typed “Kitty-Cat home invasion.” That’s a completely different barrel of laughs. ^_^
There’s a bit of that as well ♥
All the models I’ve had have had the uncomfortable habit of shifting to my most sensitive areas, and as I prefer NOT to have acupuncute on the succulent sweater hams, I think I may forgoe the feline holistic practioner for a while.
My model doesn’t knead properly and rarely acupunctures. It does, however, have a tendency to gravitate towards the sensitive areas, too. My poor husband is the one subjected to the bladder-dive-bomb from the-top-of-the-closet maneuver at odd hours of the night, though.
Mine is definitely not a lap cat. In fact, he’s got in his little kitty-mind a no-touch perimeter set up around him. It varies in size, but is usually about a foot in all directions. The only exceptions to this perimeter rule are the head and chin skritches he demands when I get home from work. Once he’s gotten that he resets the boundaries….sometimes rather forcefully.
He will, however, never let me out of his sight and meows plaintively lest I (gasp!) shut the door to any room I’m in whilst he is on the other side.
The only time he gets close enough to be a useful warmer is if I am sick. He seems to sense I need comfort and will stealthily hop on the bed/couch and proceed to snuggle at my back or behind my knees.
I really really really want a cat, but Mr. AR is allergic. :'(
You can get one of those freaky-looking hairless cats that kinda resemble gremlins. Or, if you are on a budget, a regular cat and some Nair.
Didn’t we have a post here a while back about trying to shave a cat?
And really, what’s the point of a hairless cat? There’s nothing to pet!
Or if you’re really not on a budget one of those Burmese cats that produce only 1 of the 5 or 6 different allergen proteins in their skin.
‘Course it’ll set you back like $4,000.
With my luck, I’d pay $4k for that cat and the one allergen protein would be the one Mr. AR is allergic to, and we wouldn’t be able to keep the cat.
[corey]Well, the prescription anti-allergy meds can help, too.
That’s because, rather than being symptom-suppression/relief they actually interrupt the histamine/allergne repsonse system.
Which actually was a drawback in actual use. Once you were having a histamine reaction, taking the tab was not a good idea–you would make the symptoms worse by preventing the chemical reactions from balancing out. However, the population of people who would actually exercise the instructions printed right on the box . . . well, they need to be told to feed dogs food (and not sales circulars, junk mail, rainbows or the like). It’s also why most of those are now symptom-relief OTC products.
[/corey]
:pictures Sparky feeding a dog rainbows:
:giggles:
OT – but in the spirit of the season, go here and enjoy the best version of “Jingle Bells” I’ve ever heard:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v77O460dDLw&feature=related
Thanks CJ! Wonderful version and nice change from muzak.
I prefer the one here, heard at about 04:40.
The trio of sisters from Utah have some outstanding music.
If you have youtube open, go ahead and click on their Deck the Halls video. The Santa’s Got a Brand New Bag is fun, too.
The one I really like from their Christmas album, though is their “Hark the Herald Angels”–but there’s no video for that.
Need to lean on “The Trishas” and get them to turn out a christmas album, too.
I think it would be cool if Doses tugged the War of the Roses. But most likely that is because it rhymes and I am in Cleveland waiting to get on a plane so small it appears we will all be asked to pedal. Emergency red-eye flight when you realize too late you’re probably overreacting…priceless.
As long as it’s not more that twenty percent cardboard and duck tape you should be fine.
Remember to think light thoughts, Andie!
…maybe if we all clap?
:claps:
I do believe in Tankerbell!
Note:
While the phrase: “… maybe if we all clap?”
Looks very similar to: “… maybe if we all had the clap?”
They mean very, very different things.
Clap on! *clap clap*
Clap off! *clap clap*
Clap on, clap off
Gonorrhea.
That, and if it is, say, a SAAB 260 or ASA 320 (very small “commuter” turboprops) there’s barely room to sit. Let alone room to, ah, share, ah, happy time, around . . .
Andie, I once got on a plane where I was told to sit on a specific side, behind a specific row. It was tiny, and still not full, but they had to figure out seating for ballast.*
I hope yours is better than that.
*One of the worst flying day experiences I’ve ever had, and it still wasn’t as bad as last fall with Delta.**
**Still hate Delta.
Lola, been there. In December. In a teeny tiny plane. In Arkansas. In a blizzard. I was 18, but so not above pulling out the stuffed animal I had in my bag and squeezing it for dear life as the plane tipped.
Meredith, when things like that happen, you do what you have to. No judging here!
I don’t recall them having to balance the plane but we were getting a nasty crosswind coming into Jackson, Mississippi the last time I took a puddlejumper that way. I was SURE we were going to catch a wing on the ground before the wheels hit – or get flipped afterwards.
Oddly, the little planes I have taken into West Yellowstone have never scared me.
I remember when the only airline service in my town not only used very small aircraft, but aircraft so small they had fixed landing gear.
Nifty observations from that, too. Like the experienced pilots would tap the brakes so the main landing gear would stop spinning–so that no one would call through the curtain into the cockpit that “Hey, the Wheels is sstill rollin’!?”
The ASA 320’s were an experience, too. Too small for an attendant. Your “carry-on” luggage went into a “canoe” under the plane. Best seat was 2B, as it was virtually the jumpseat for the cockpit. But, I’m an aviation buff and some-time (jackleg) pilot.
Thanks for the mindworm, CJ, I am now hearing and seeing Serge from Beverly Hills Cop. Is it me, or is Sparky Serge a master of the obvious? Feed dog food or other foods, you say? Fascinating…
Glad to be of service Andie…you know anything to take your mind off both being in Cleveland and about to board the flagship of Flintstone Air. 🙂
When you land, just “Yabba-dabba-doo!” so we know you’ve arrived safely.
Yabba dabba doo!
I am now in indianapolis with the family. Have had no sleep so things are striking me really funny. I tried to see what kind of plane it was. It was the kind of plane with a row of one seat on the left and two on the right.
My condolences Sparkletank.
[corey] That would be a CRJ or an ERJ. Regional jet used by the local subsidiary of what ever legacy carrier you flew on. I may be the only person on the planet who prefers them to jumbo jets. My reasoning is that economy class seats offer no additional room regardless of the plane size so I might as well have less people to fight to get off the damned thing when it lands. [/corey]
Christina, the safety card said ERJ. I had never heard of it so I didn’t think it was the model of the plane. You are a font of knowledge!
I only know this because I’m a former travel consultant and an aspiring small craft pilot. (note: ERJ don’t actually qualify as small craft and I will not be able to fly one if I do get my license.)
About 2 inch long hair
Doses has one hair and it’s about 2 inches long? Ugh.
Loves to play “tug-a-war”
I’m a fan of the War of the Austrian Succession, but I’m worried if he tugs it Habsburgs will fall out all over the place.
Looks like you got a bad infestation of Hapsburgs here, but if we spray, you’re gonna lose the Tudors and the Bonapartes as well. Then the Windsors will move in, sure as I’m charging you $350 for this consultation.
Anything, just as long as the Grimaldis stay away …
And for land’s sake, can’t we do anything about these Medicis?
So Doses is a Chinese Crested masseur-dog?
Serge is a hardnose cop who by day fights crime as a member of the thin blue line, and at night continues to fight crime as Captain Obvious, defender of the city from crime. Doses is a German Shepard trained in the ancient ways of the Shiatsu massage. Dog by day, Shiatsu Master at Captain Obvious’ side by night, rubbing crime out of the city one sore group at a time.
Together they are: TEAM SPARKY!
*Intro Music and Clips roll*
This can be interpreted in two radically different ways.
*goes and finds a fifth corner*
I think we’re up to the sixth one now.
It’s a damn good thing we live in a dodecahedron.
So it’s got like what, 13 corners?
We all live in a yellow dodecahedron,
Yellow dodecahedron,
Yellow dodecahedron.
Don’t forget your t shirts of shame, boys!
“I took Taco’s speeling course and all I got was this T-shit.”
Oooooh, Silva!!!
BWAHAHAHA…
Can I have one of those t-shits in baby pOOp green?
I move that this goes on a shirt in the YSaC Store.
I’m still waiting for that fortune cookie shirt, too.
It’ll probably be a while. The dynamic duo was scaling back for the holidays because they were getting burned out.
Not sure you want to say “move” in reference to that, Astro…
2 things stand out from the general Sparkiness of this ad:
That’s a rehoming fee? Looks more like a sale price to me, unless this dog comes with $300 worth of food or tug-a-war toys.
So if being great with kids does not include playing with them, what does being good with other dogs mean?
Good with dogs: Tea parties, discussion salons, and Shiatsu massages.
I just want a Shiatsu pillow so I can do the raw egg drop test.
He knows how to tend baby goats.
What do you think he likes to play tug-a-war with?
All I’m gonna say is don’t play with him naked.
And definitely don’t rub the puppy’s tummy, no matter how good the massage is.
You should never play with children naked. That will lead to cookies with Chris Hansen.
Oooh, cookies!
The rehoming fee is to retrain the dog to always return to the new domicile… Homing pigeons; why not dogs?
Yes, but how do you know it’s being trained to return to your home? That could be his scam; charge for this service but the dog returns to the seller’s home so he can post it on CL again and charge yet another rehoming fee.
I’m not gonna fall for that one again.
Makes a fantastic side dish.
Particularly since it just has that one hair, it’s easy to prep.
I can’t decide whether “To Serve Man” or “The Gingerbread House Cookbook” has the better recipe, though.
Try the A Million Ways to Love Dogs cookbook.
Bob Barker’s Fix ‘Em and Forget It! Cookbook
“Oh, yeah!” Leek moaned. It was equal and extreme parts weird and awkward, but he had to admit, albeit quite grudgingly, that this was surely the best massage he’d ever gotten.
“You see?” said Serge rhetorically in that swishy French accent of his. “‘Doses give good massage. And ‘e ees good with the children and other dogs, though maybe sometime they are the same, yes? Maybe not so much when ‘e ees in ‘eat though. Ha ha.”
As good as the massage was though, Leek was having a great deal of trouble dealing with the fact that it was being administered by a small, yappy dog whose bangs and colouration evoked an inescapable mental image of a miniature Ralph the sheepdog. More importantly though, Serge’s comments were only escalating the already stratospheric squick factor. But it was a good massage. Such a really good massage.
“But ‘e ‘as good manners, yes? ‘E will usually not try to ‘ump you during the massage.” Serge continued, disturbingly.
“I, uh, guess that’s good,” Leek responded, mostly in an attempt to distract himself from thinking about his masseuse.
“Absolutely. ‘E is paper train too,” Serge kept on. “Though ‘e only seem to go on the New York Times. ‘E just try to bury anything else. Which remind me, ‘e will pee on cats, also.”
“What?” Leek asked incredulously.”
“Cats,” Serge replied. “‘E like to pee on cats. ‘E doesn’t ‘ate them, ‘e just want to mark them as ‘ees territory.”
“That’s terrible!” Leek exclaimed.
“I know,” Serge replied, drawing out the O as if to extend the word to match the disappointment he felt in such actions. “Imagine ‘ow the cat feel? That is ‘how ‘e got such a scratch on ‘is scrotum. But I take care of ‘im for that, ‘ees little choux-fleurs are fine, ‘e can steel ‘ave puppies.”
The affection with which he said the last sentence and the euphemism he chose bordered on even more disturbing than the massage, and with significantly less mitigating deep-muscle pressure.
Doses yipped.
“‘E tell you to relax,” Serge helpfully “translated.” “You are too tense.”
And that was quite enough of that. “Okay,” Leek said hastily as he rolled over, dumping Doses unceremoniously to the floor, in response to which the dog yipped at him twice, turned around, and alternately scratched his hind feet on the floor in a canine gesture that seemed uncannily analogous to raking the back of one’s hand under the chin toward someone. “You know, alright, I think this is fine, this is good enough and I should really be going, now.”
“Really?” Serge said with a little more concern than Leek felt was warranted. “‘E did not even get to finish your massage, and ‘e is quite put out by eet. Deed you not enjoy eet?”
“Yeah, no — I mean, yes, Doses gives a good massage and everything — I mean, really good, you know? But he’s, you know. He’s…”
“‘E is what?”
“He’s a dog.”
“Yes, of course ‘e is a dog, don’t be seelee.”
“A massage-giving dog.”
“I mean no offense but you are stating the obvious.”
“It’s creepy!”
“No! No, eet’s not creepy, eet’s very good massage, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” Leek tried to articulate. “That’s kind of the problem. It feels too> good, and it’s creepy because it’s a dog. You see?”
Serge tilted his head to one side, a gesture that added ever so slightly to the creep factor. “I am afraid I do not see.”
“Dogs — animals are not supposed to be actively giving you pleasure, you know what I mean? You’re supposed to derive pleasure from petting them and playing with them and stuff and they show appreciation by licking your hand or bringing you dead things that they killed or something, but that’s it. They’re not suppose to treat you to a shiatsu massage!”
“Why not?” Serge asked, almost seeming hurt.
Leek sighed. He’d just have to come right out and say it. “It feels too close to bestiality, okay?”
Serge’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he covered a sharp gasp with the tips of his fingers. Leek took the opportunity to get back on his feet. He realized he felt more loose than he remembered feeling in years, and then felt immediately ashamed of himself for thinking that.
“‘Ow could you say such a thing?” Serge whispered over his hand. “You are a seek man! You are seek in the head! There ees nothing sexual about thees! I think you need to leave now.”
Doses yipped his agreement, then turned up his nose and looked the other way in a gesture of pure haughtiness.
“Yes,” Leek said, gathering his coat, “Yes, I think that would be for the best. Good day.”
“Good day to you, sir, and I weel thank you for not returning.” Serge said with a sniff.
Leek put on his coat and headed straight out the door, closing it behind him. He felt dirty, yet limber. It was an incredible massage, but it was from a dog. Granted, it was rather amazing that a dog knew how to give any sort of massage, let alone be extremely good at it, but it was a novelty tempered to the extreme by the intimate nature of his talent.
Leek headed down the walkway and back on to the sidewalk. The worst part wasn’t that he enjoyed the massage, nor that it was administered by a dog. The worst part was that he felt as though he’d just passed up an incredible opportunity.
Leek returned home, his red face brought on by more than just the cold afternoon air.
I am just a smidge disappointed that Serge didn’t once utter “Dawn be stuupid.”
You’re right. I was caught up in the dialog and didn’t actively think of a way to work that in there, though in hindsight I can see a few places to put it. Perhaps that will be one of the edits I make to it for the eventual story blog I stick up.
Good dog!
Well, I’d change Leek to Liek, if only to not have a condused vision of a famous Welsh vegetable anthropomorphized (especially this far away from St Davie’s Day).
Tl;dr.
Just kidding! It was excellent, as usual!
And, as is often the case, somewhat disturbing.
Like Santa!
Except that Santa is dead.
:pokes fingers in eyes:
LA LA LA, I CAN’T READ YOU!
If you poked yourself hard enough, now you can’t read anything.
“If you poked yourself hard enough …”
Never mind.
*sets off in search of unused Snark Lounge corner*
Well, while you can’t exactly say the one over there **points** is unused, it’s certainly been vacated.
Yeah, Lola, I noticed that as soon as I posted it. I figured I’d leave it for someone else to hit out of the park, since I’m already in a corner.
*runs to the center of the room*
GIGGITY!
*returns to corner*
Uh-oh. I think today’s storytime may have contained a word that triggered the moderation queue. Not a bad word, mind you, but maybe one that could be employed by Rule 34 spambots, maybe. Oops!
I’ve gotten moderated for my naughty language this morning already. Which is odd given that moderation has historically been very forgiving on the potty mouth.
Well, this wasn’t cussing or anything, but it did contain a word whose root is “bestial,” so I’m thinking maybe that’s what set it off, because I can’t think of any other words I used that might have tripped the alarm.
I’ve found if you repeat certian words you can get stuck in moderation. I had a comment stuck in moderation because I used the word “penis” too many times. I went back and
removed some penisesedited a bit and it posted fine.Do you need to remove them? Because based on the posts above, there are some extra hoo-has floating around.
Alright, then.
Note to self: Do not post the story of Simon in the Land of Organically-Grown Penises.
You know, you don’t need organic fertilizer to make a penis grow.
Back to my corer.
Taco, the words “penis grow” and “corer” so close in the same comment have me a little … unnerved.
Where the hell is my T-shit.
Oh my. I sure as hell can’t core things with mine. I don’t know whether to be jealous or fearful.
I think I’ll go with fearful, because the phrase “traumatic insemination*” just popped into my head while considering this concept.
* See: Bedbugs, reproduction. Sleep well.
Isn’t Traumatic Insemination opening for Marilyn Manson these days?
Do not Google “bedbug reproduction” or “traumatic insemination”; trust me, it is as bad as it sounds.
It’s one of those things that I already knew, am sad that I know it, and have no intention of refreshing my memory of.
RELEASE THE SECRET WEAPON!
I thought “Traumatic Insemination” was the cause for Marilyn Manson–but it may just be the best description for the genre, instead.
Considering your infinite talent for weaving a tale from sucky Craigslist ads, I’m rather glad to have you on our side, Mindfield. I can just imagine the damage you’d do if the scammers were able to pick your brains rather than rely on the spambots.
The sequal to Turner and Hooch is way too New Age-y for me, after they replaced the detective with a Yoga instructor and made the dog also a massage therapist.
I also am hugely annoyed at the rehoming fee. Sparky most likely paid that same amount for said Doses when it was a puppy, then it grew up and everyone got tired of it and now not only wants to get rid of it but wants to break even as well.
Idiot.
I’ve always found “rehoming fees” to be a fairly despicable practice unless the fees are to be used to bring vaccinations up to current or transfer licensing.
Most of the time though it’s “I paid for this damn animal, and I should be compensated for raising it!”
Except that CL does encourage them in order to reduce the number of people casually obtaining a free animal to ignore or abuse. Because generally, if you have to pay for something, you tend to take better care of it.
That said, $350 isn’t a “fee”
[matt] I’m not even in favor of a fee for re-homing pigeons! [/matt]
Mudsy, this is just about a perfect use of the [matt] tags. Indignance! Possible connection to something that one could actually be indignant about! And missing the point entirely! Love it.
[matt] You said it sista’! [/matt]
🙂
Maybe they really mean “rehoning.” I don’t know about you, but I like my used pets sharp. Although $350 still seems pretty steep for a quick run across the bench grinder.
The stinger from the $350 ransom Sparky is charging comes when you finally get Doses home. You find out that he’s 16 years old and likes to play tug-a-war with your pecil.
“How could I have known all that? I was basing my assumptions on the fact that his hair was only 2 inches long. I couldn’t possibly have needed to know any more than that.”
Well, kids, it’s been real and it’s been fun.
And…it’s been real fun…
But…I’m outta here probably till the new year.
Keep the coffee slices warm, the crazy puppy in Kibbles, and the Typo King away from the dictionaries!
To all of you who celebrate, Merry Christmas!
To those who don’t, Merry Christmas!
To the rest of us…Happy Festivus!
May we all come out sane at the other end of the Play Doh factory..
See ya, CJ!!
Have a good Holiday, CJ!
May your gifts not inspire snark.
And if your gifts do inspire snark, there’s always Why Did You Buy Me That?
Mary Beesmas, CJ!
Mary Beesmas!
Mele Kalikimaka
For the first time in a long time I’m not going anywhere for Christmas this year (can’t afford the train tickets to the in-laws up north this year) so I’ll be around hither and yon. Just the same, Merry/Happy/Joyous Christmas/Beesmas/Festivus/Pontiac Solstice and may the FSM’s noodly appendage touch us all inappropriately while the TSA’s gropy appendages don’t.
Ramen.
Hey, that reminds me… Given all the news stories about how invasive the TSA has gotten, I was looking forward to gettin’ me some of that sweet, sweet TSA lovin’. No joy. They barely scanned my stuff. Nobody even tried to feel me up. I’m so disappointed.
We’ve got a flight coming up for the Taco family as well. I’m hoping that maybe they’ll cup me a little… and juggle the-
Gotta go.
Ooh, I’d like to watch them try to make Tron stand still long enough for the backscatter machine!
No one felt us up on Monday either. Maybe on the way back Sunday. Happy Whatever, everyone!
Tell you what, Taco. You don’t get properly manhandled by the TSA, we’ll all put on uniforms and cup and jiggle you until you feel properly degraded. That’s the kind of friends we are.
Speak for yourself. I don’t cup and jiggle without at least a nice dinner first.
Happy December shop-a-thon, CJ!
I only just read yesterday’s post/comments…I greatly enjoyed the creation of the new [matte][/matte] tag. Just thought I’d share my appreciation. 🙂
Aw, no fair! I only have a red crayon!
That’s like trying to get the white injet printer ink refill . . .
It was a dark and not as stormy as the night before but stormier than the next night was supposed to be night. So quiet on the Left Coast. Better punch out and get on with it.
christina, due to your excellent use of hang-ups, here’s your Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, Davenport!
You know, I really wish I’d have picked this dog up. I ended up going with a chiropractor cat a few months after this post.
Given the Cat’s use of Math, you can imagine how one does at subluxations.
… let’s see…Carry the five… Lemon Curry?
Tim Curry! *rubs forehead* Sorry, stuck in word association from yesterday.
Rocky Horror Picture Show!
Ahem…carry on, Windy
If you have a male shiatsu playing tug of war with you, I’m thinking you’ll need more than a chiropractor when he’s done.
Bothy Band playlist since it’s the feast day for St Pat.
Oh wait, this is supposed to be germane snark–dang it!
It’s OK to be German on St. Patty’s Day, Capn. 🙂
Oh, you said germane. Hmmmm. Is anyone ever that on this particular day? Point to ponder.
This guy is.
Indeed he is, PB. And my favorite one of the five. Thanks for bringing back the sunny memories!
Saturday Reduxers! Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, Dog Whispererer!