Grood.com

All right, so i’ve been working on a few screenplays and shooting a webseries and this blog has obviously been the lowest of my priorities. Anywho, I’m still in the middle of that shiite so until then, follow me on twitter.

So my dog, Kaylee, has the shits. The slimy, uncontrollable, larger than normal, shits, if you will. These things are epic as… shit. They’re like the size and shape of a medium-sized turtle. It probably wasn’t a good thing she drank from the community dog bowl at the park last Thursday. Shit.

Recap: Kaylee’s her first assplosion happened Saturday morning I’m guessing around eight. There’s nothing worse than waking up still drunk but also hungover ¹ and you have to deal with a blob of poop the size of Shaq’s hand. After cleaning up the main bit of evil, I reasoned that I wasn’t going to be doing any fine detailing work on my carpet at 8 AM. “Fuck it,” I said to nobody in particular. A few more hours of sleep and I’d go rent a Rug Doctor. Those things are fantagular, by the way. I had been talking about getting one for the past six months and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jeez, imagine if my dog shitting all over my bedroom was not the straw that broke the camel’s back. That’d be awesome.

And then Sunday was no problem at all. She went twice and both were solid and most importantly, both were outside! I figured my problems were all over.

Monday morning around 6:30, I woke up to that smell. That same damned smell that I smelled Saturday morning. A smell that tells me my morning was going to be an interesting one. I popped up and did a quick glassesless scan of the room. Granted, I’m blind as shit but a big brown blob on white carpet is a big brown blob on white carpet. And I saw nothing. Weird. I reasoned that maybe she hadn’t actually shat but instead had just farted. The smell was actually kind of faint. That made sense to me at 6:30 in the morning.

I woke up at my usual eight in the morning and stepped into the bathroom and BAM! Stepped right in it. It seems every time I step in dog shit it’s always my entire foot that steps squarely on it. It’s never just like a corner of my foot. I’ve said it before, when i step in dog shit it’s like they’re taking imprints of my foot for the Walk of Fame. There should be a ceremony with paparazzi and a guest speaker for when is I step in dog shit.

I fed her some chicken and rice last night and now, we play the waiting game.

Hi, my name’s Doug. This is my motherfucking sandwich. A quick rundown of ingredients: wholewheat flaxseed bread, mayo, mustard, chili con queso, pastrami, white onion, peppered turkey, beefsteak tomato, heirloom tomato, honey ham, orange bell pepper, pepperoni, pickle, lettuce and brass balls.

Why did I make such an audacious sandwich? Well, to quote JFK, “There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why. I dream of things that never were, and ask why not.” The stars were aligned with this sandwich’s creation. This sandwich was a perfect storm consisting of 30% necessity, 30% ambition, 30% improvisation and 30% inspiration.

But Doug, that adds up to 120%. I know.

This sandwich was the highlight of my day and maybe even my year. Meanwhile, a 13-year-old boy is planning on climbing Mt. Everest. Fuck him.

We had a good ride, you and I. Just remember, the good people at Microsoft are going to fix you up real nice. You’ll see.

They’re going to give you a fan that actually works and, hell, they might even replace your motherboard. And when you get out of the hospital, there will be a family waiting for you that might love you even more than I do.

They’re going to send me a refurbished one but just between you and me, it’ll be a purely physical relationship. When I’m playing NHL 09 or watching Hot Rod again, there will be a part of me thinking of you always.

Goodbye. Be well.

I filled up on March 10th and this is what I have left. Suck it, bitches!

I just got the wordpress iphone app and am testing this bird out. And with that, I give you bees.

Behold their majesty.