YSaC, Vol. 1373: Whiskey and French Cigarettes…
I Want A Puppy!!!!
Im In Need Of A Puppy…A New Born Female Would Be Nice Or Anything Close To It….Due To My Moms’ Allergies Im Searching For A Hypoallergenic Puppy….The Price Im Searching For Is $300 But The Price Is Also Negotiable…If You Can Please Help Me Then Feel Free To Text Me At ###-###-####
Well, before we issue you your puppy, I just have a FEW questions:
You want a newborn puppy?
Jerk. Puppies should be kept with their mothers for at LEAST 6-8 weeks.
Something CLOSE to Female?
Say what? You want maybe one X chromosome, and one X and half?
My moms’ allergies?
Well Heather, I’m sure they’ll both enjoy it.
A hypoallergenic dog?
Pity there’s no such thing.
Tell you what – you’re not ready for a puppy yet. How about we get you a nice rock, and see if it’s doing OK in a year or so? Then maybe we’ll think about moving you up to a cactus.
Thanks for the post, Kele!
Sorry I Can Not Help You, All Of My Silicone-Rubber Puppies Have Loving, Caring, Homes For More Than $300.
Now, Listen To Your Moms And Go Clean Your Room!
And The Kitchen Too You Lazy Stoners!
Funny you should mention a pet rock, dan. Ever since the windfall I was promised for my pet rock, Rock, fell through he’s been looking a little sad and just sits in the window stoney-faced.
Now, granite he is just a shale of his former self, but I always tell him he may just be an old lump of coal, but he’s gonna be a diamond someday! I don’t think he believes me. He can be obsidian like that, especially when he’s trying to act tuff.
Perhaps a trip to new-born-puppy-wanting chic’s house will be just what he needs. I’ll be sure to pack his favorite gravel for the trip, and though I’ll miss Rock, there comes a time in every one’s life when they’ve gotta try not to hang on so latite.
*sniffle*
Poor Rocky, doomed to a sedimentary lifestyle because some schist-for-brains can’t see his true worth. I feel for his loess, but I gneiss he’ll just have to chalk it up as a life experience.
I’m pretty sure C..J’s rock story was not meant to me taken literally (that is, it was metamorphical).
It wasn’t a rock! It was a rock lobster!
CJ, of quartz we can all tell you have lost your marble.
Hey, Sparky, You’re In Luck. I Found This For About 15% Of Your Target Price. It’s The Closest Thing To A Real Dog With Which I Trust You.
Reading the NPR article from the link about hypoallergenic dogs, I couldn’t help but wonder if the White House now has a First Dog Washer or if the First Daughters do that as a chore.
Sorry, I can’t find one dog that isn’t allergic to you!
In Soviet Russia…
The Price Is Not Right. In Fact, I’m Going To Get Bob Barker To Come Over There And Take You Down.
In other news, all my writing utensils continue leap to the floor with merry abandonment. I think they just don’t want to do any work today. Or they are attempting penicide?
pecil-cide?
If they were pens, they’d just run in the wash . . .
LL, you clearly just aren’t using the right ones.
Ooo… I’ll be here in the corner with my ‘fun, comfort grip’.
That’s what all the fun girls say . . .
Hey, shouldn’t you be in a bunk for that?
I’ll be in my binder.
[adjective] story.
When I was a boy, or close to it, our family dog had a litter of three puppies. Two of the puppies were quite cute and cuddly; the third was born boneless and skinless. My mother, who seemed to have a heart of brass, took a pair of her nylon stockings and made him a little suit to keep him from stringing himself all over the place, i.e., keep his [noun] together. He would roll/slosh his way to his mom and eat, it was difficult, but he was very stoic. We named him Glory.(he was all guts and glory)
One day he was rolling around the living room, playing with his sisters, and he rolled over to the stairs and fell into the basement. After that, he was never quite the same. He would growl real mean at his sisters and gum down real hard on his momma’s teat. He became insufferable. I guess his heart wasn’t in the right place. We tried to put it back, but our efforts were fruitless. My mother finally just gave him to the crotchety old man down the road.
The other dogs wouldn’t eat his food. I kept it over the years to remind me of that time of Glory. A few years ago, I was cleaning out my storage shed and found his food. I decided to let it go and put an ad on craigslist for “Free- Puppy Chow- Boneless and Skinless Formula”
If I still had it, I could have given it to sparky for his “Hypoallergenic Puppy”.
Oh well, Sparky’s loss.
Glory later went on to sire many more skinless puppies, who became big stars as part of the franchise.
Grrr…
That should say “Resident Evil franchise”; apparently enclosing something in just angle brackets opens a portal to Narnia and eats your words.
:sprinkles birdseed into computer cupholder:
Now they make these.
Oh please, for all that is my sanity, please don’t let my wife discover that site….
They make gimp-wear for dogs now?
This was a disturbingly touching story, in a roly-poly kinda way.
Thanks for the nightmarish images, OMV.
My work here is
dumbdone. Because, Y’ know… Imahelper.It is All Hallow’s Eve, and apropos for the scary, eerie, and macabre to rise up from terrestrial grip and wander among the living and sparkii alike . . .
Which poses some questions.
If sparkii become zombies, and they manage–somehow–to eats some brains, how would they recognize them?
If a sparkii where shade, shee, or similar disembodied spirit (a poser for the alleged need for a slight or lack or injustice to be so strongly held as to be held on to pass through the bounds of mortal coil), how would we, the living, extant, sapient, recognize the difference? Would it just be by volume of ectomorphic slime needing cleaning up afterwards?
Sadly, the existence of sparkii at all seems to beg the question of their existence entire–they are just dead, and too unaware to notice; and they are an affliction and punishment upon the living sapient. This argument probably devolves unsatisfactorily into a chicken-egg-chicken tautology of do sparkii see the ghosts, or are they the ghosts themselves.
Perhaps I will just fall back upon my Scottish roots, where the existence of shades, shees, ghosties, banshees, spirits and the slyphan like are part and parcel of the “real” world.
You called? 😉
I have it on good authority* that brains taste just like cauliflower.
*May not be true.
Dearheart, you are “the” Ghost, nae any’t wee ghos’
Whea’yer ye be spectre, spirit, shade, ane t’ilk be’t b’yon’ me ken. Ane ae nae matter ‘t’all. Y’ken’t tha’ I drawt a lyne ae’t banshee, they beit t’braw loud t’drink prap’ly, an’ need’t exorciz’n’ ri’t’way.
Ae wee ghos’, ar braw quiet shee, mahr’t’an weelcom’t share’t wee dram; be toast’t tae. Jus’ leav’t chains wit’ t’vicar.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms works in a labradory.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms is a doggy geneticist.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms should use an allegory to describe her allergies.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms is a Fratelli.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms has a New Hatched Female Plan To Take Her Puppy Into A Restaurant.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms’ children wants to make a sacrifice to the allergy gods.
Maybe one of Sparky’s moms isn’t the problem here.
Maybe it’s Sparky.
Aaaaand we’re off.
1. Here’s some placenta I found close to a newborn female puppy. Hope you enjoy.
2. I will sell you a puppy if you think it’s nice. If you think it’s something close to nice, I guess it will depend on how close. Like, is “exciting” a possibility, or is it more likely to be something like, “oh, you shouldn’t have”?
3. Here’s Rachel Weisz. She’s the newest Bourne female. Is that close enough?
4. Go directly to the couch. Do not pass Go, do not turn on the computer, and for dog’s sake, please, PLEASE don’t get a puppy.
I’m not exactly sure where to look for a skinless newborn transgendered canine for Sparky’s two moms, but for $300 I’d be happy to sell them a regular dog in a nice mouse jacket.
Here, obviously:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3Q2HZRjHHQ
I Want A Pony… A New Born Clydesdale Would Be Nice….
Y’all (pet) rock.
As my beloved catpanion shuffled off his mortal coil this morning, it gives me comfort to know that I certainly took better care of him than most*.
And to know that puns still make me giggle inappropriately in public.
* Where, sadly, Sparky=most.
Aww… I’m so sorry. (hugs)
Yes, sorry to hear the loss of your kitty.
I’m so sorry Rebecca. May angels comfort you with soft furry hugs tonight.
Bugsy the Insane offers his condolences and says you can sleep with his favorite blankie tonight if it will help.
Rebecca, let me add my late but still sincere sympathy to this thread. I had to assist one of my catpanions in his shuffle a few months ago, so I am still recovering. My advice is to get another cat as soon as you can. The new cat here reminds me daily why I like to have these critters around. ((HUGS))
Limelolly and Taco snarking in a tree,
L-A-U-GH-I-N-G!
That’s all I got this morning, sorry.
Punchity Punch Punch. Feel free to finish it off yourselves.
Good Morning, Stupid Pet Tricks!