You wouldn’t see this billboard in Missouri. And now you know why I live in Missouri.
I’m going to start living like my dog did. I’ll get my vitamins and minerals from the food I eat. And I’ll stretch my legs every morning before I bounce off the walls waiting to go the bathroom.
Yeah, I could learn some things from that 3 lb. Yorkie.
Okay, so I had a Yorkie. Don’t judge. She was great little doggy until she died from a tumor. A tumor I still blame on Drunkie Drunk’s carton-a-day smoking habit.
I don’t understand how some people can’t house train their dogs. All you need is rolled-up newspaper.
My dog had very few accidents. The only one I really remember is walking into the bathroom one night, and slipping on a pile of shit in the dark.
She was hiding, but I coaxed her from behind the couch with a “treat.”
Now, I know PETA wouldn’t approve of this, but, well, let’s just say her ass met the classified ads.
I doubt I could ever date a PETA girl. But I could make it fun for a while. We would eat tofu, take nature hikes, and watch Animal Planet.
Then she’d walk in one day, and I’d be sitting on a new leather couch – with a plate on my lap – cutting into a nice piece of prime rib.
And while still chewing on a piece of meat, I’d point my fork at the box of condoms on the table – “They’ve been lambskin this whole time, sugar tits.”
She’s using her head again.