STRAIGHT FROM THE MUT

We had our first disaster with the baby the other night. Baxter (our jihadist dog) broke into the diaper pail. We came home and found poopie diapers all over the living room. When I saw him, I yelled at him, but he sat there just licking his lips. Like he had just finished a meal at Morton's. As I got closer to him, I realized he had poop all over his face. He literally had a shit beard. Imagine Moses, but with doodie instead of hair. This mother fucker gets steak and chicken half the time for dinner, and the one night he is stuck with plain ole Puppy Chow, he thinks he has to go searching for something with a little more “flavor”. So be warned. When a dog sniffs your ass, he’s not just saying hello.

Randi was playing around with her wedding band last night. I got snookered into returning her original band, and buying her one with more diamonds. Randi is quickly becoming the Nelly of Cedar Rapids, IA. All she needs is one of those grillz. Oh, and a rap career. And a really really dark tan.

Anyway, she was commenting on what a good job the jeweler did. “Can you imagine working with diamonds all day? You’d kind of get spoiled.” “Uh, kind of like a gynecologist?” I asked. 

Obviously, no sex for me last night. 

So North Korea tested a nuclear bomb last night. I’m watching the news in bed, and there was a report that China was given a 20 minute warning ahead of the test. Randi was lying next to me and got all mad. She’s like, “North Korea can give a 20 minute warning about an impending nuclear explosion, but you can’t give me a 10 second heads up that you are about to fart under the blanket?” 

I am convinced this dog has some Taliban in him.  He chomps at your ass every chance he gets.  He digs in the couch constantly.  He destroys any sort of paper good or product that happens to fall on the floor.  If he got arrested for scouting out NYC bridges and tunnels, I would not be surprised.  The other day he went after a poodle because she wasn't wearing a burka.

He is so fucking spoiled. Forget about the 3000 toys and bones he has.  We’ve spent FOUR GRAND on him on training alone already.  Normally, you spend that kind of dough and you’re pretty close to an associates degree.  Instead, all we’ve got to show for it is a dog who knows how to sit and only shits in the house twice a week instead of daily.

On top of his college education, he goes to doggie daycare 3 days a week.  I got a call the other day from the lady that runs it saying he was being disruptive, not listening and annoying the other dogs.  I mean, we know he’s mine and all, but it’s looking more and more like I actually fathered him.

Half the things he does, I know he does just to taunt me.  The other day, I’m driving him home in my Explorer, and I looked back at him in the rearview mirror.  We made eye contact, and I saw he was TAKING A DUMP in the back of the truck.  He gave me this look like there was nothing I could do and said, “Just drive motherfucker.”  At this point, he doesn’t even know the words “no” or “bag dog”.  But he is certainly familiar with “Stop being an asshole” and “You little fuck”.

This weekend, Randi and I headed to Minnesota to visit her extended family. Going to Iowa is bad, but at least here, I got to go to a Yankees/Twins game.

First of all, Randi's grandparents live in an assisted living facility outside of Minneapolis. Instead of staying at a hotel nearby, for some reason we stayed in the "guest suite" in the lobby of the assisted living facility. It's like a regular room at the place, complete with handlebars in the shower. I know I turn 30 this week, but there is no need to check me into a nursing home just yet. I haven't even pulled a Barcus and peed on myself in a couple of years. Worst of all, it was right off the lobby. Every time Randi opened the door, some poor 80 year old lady had to hear the blare of Sportscenter and see me with my hand down my underwear. Randi insists we stay there as not to "offend" her grandparents. I can't make her understand that banging her on their kitchen table would offend them, being comfortable in a Hyatt would not.

We're sitting around the dinner table having our Easter meal, and the subject of my birthday comes up. All of a sudden, her mom realizes the date. April 20th. And she goes, "Oh my God. That's Hitler's birthday.," and starts to go on about it. Exactly what I want to talk about at EASTER dinner. It's bad enough her cousins blame me for the crucifixion, but now the Hitler jokes are flying. I tried to change the subject by asking if I could get my ham on a piece of matzoh, but that just got me more dirty looks.

So we go to Church the next morning, and of course we are late, so we have to sit in the very front row. There was a point during the service where you have to turn to everyone around you, shake their hand, and say Happy Easter, or Peace be With You or something. That was an uncomfortable feeling. Of course, I just shook everyone's hand and said L'Chiam under my breath. And it was more of an evangelical church than I am used to. For one, someone fell ill during the service, so the pastor had to buy time. He started making up prayers, right on the spot. It was like Greg Focker saying Grace. "Oh Jesus, we need you now. Seriously, like right now. We pray that you give us peace, and bring us health. Right now." And then he paused, peaked out of one eye, and saw that the paramedics hadn't gotten the guy out yet, so he yelled "We simply want to pray to you in peace!" He seemed a little pissed. Like Jesus was just fucking with him during his service. So he finally says Amen and looks around. But no one else said anything. So he called out the congregation, and said "I didn't hear an Amen. How bout a round of applause for Jesus!". And everyone started clapping. I felt like I was in the audience of the Arsenio Hall Show. I thought he was going to point to the choir, pump his fist and say "Give it up for the dog pound! Hoo Hoo Hoo!" And lets not forget, I am in the front row. He is staring me down the entire time. Like I was wearing my Maccabi Games warm-ups or something. So finally, he gets to his sermon. It was about the 3 responses to the Easter miracle. Those who believe, those who are not sure but seek more, and the "scoffers". Those who scoff at the story and call Bullshit. I don't think those were his exact words, but you get the point. And he says. "I am sure there are one or two of you in here." I felt like he was staring me down. I probably was in the line of sight of the TelePrompter or something, but for this story, I got stared down by the Pastor. He says it's good there are these scoffers, to make everyone else realize that Easter is a mircale. And as he is saying this, Randi's grandfather looks at me, and nods, and her dad pats me on the back. Like they are proud that they are the ones that brought the scoffing jew-boy to church.

Randi's uncle has a life size Jeri Ryan Seven-of-Nine cardboard cut out. It's one thing to love Jerri Ryan when you are in junior high and saw her on Star Trek, and I guess you could even get away with wanting to bang her as an adult after her stint on Boston Public. But there is something strange about seeing a life-sized Star Trek cut out in a grown man's guest room.