I had my fill for the day of WTF.com's blatent disreguard for intelligence. So I decided it was time to crap out for the night.
I proceeded to shuffle my happy ass off to bed, when I figured I'd better take a shot of the ol' Tylenol sore throat medicine.
I'd felt somewhat ill the last few days; what could it hurt? I guess a family member thought it would be cute to pass it on to me unexpectedly. Anyhoo....
A bit later, I'm wide the fuck awake; when I shouldn't be, that is. So I check the tylenol bottle. Much to my surprise, nowhere on the bottle does it say nitetime, or daytime. I had only taken the recommended dosage. I never knew the effects of two table spoons would equate to a gram of crack! Any other time, this cheap buzz might have been fun. But not at 1 o'clock in the morning. Then 2am..then 3am.. I'm fairly pissed off by this time. By this time I mean the wee hours of the morn. It's so dead quiet around here, not even the ceiling fans could utter the slightest squeek.
Do you know what it sounds like when a dog drinks from the toilet? (no, they don't drink from the shitters here.) That wet lapping sound. Yeah, that's it. Now that you can hear it, try to think of what it sounds like coming from a flabby armpit.
That's right. The whole fuckin' time I'm staring at my eyelids, I'm listening to a piss poor excuse of mans best friend eating at his asshole. I can't think of a more irritating sound.
After about an hour or so, I could take no more. In a fit of blind rage, I whipped a shoe at the ass eating dipshit. Being that it was dark- I was as gracefull as a blind man pitching to Sammy Sosa. My failure to nail the mutt would only wake the wife.
She bounced up as if I had set her ass on fire. She had only darted a quick deadly glare my way as if to imply, "WTF!" and without so much as uttering a single word, she promptly bolted back off to sleepyland and the sounds of rusty chainsaws, that I had rudely interupted.
So here I am, two hours later. Still listening to the dog ensuring the world that he shall have the cleanest asshole in town. Suddenly the sound of a 5 o' clock alarm rips through the semi-silent air. Signaling to the dog that it's time to stop obsessively eating at his forever funky ass, ending my nightmare. The best part is; I've worked up a spiffy migraine through out the ordeal. And a new day has begun, no time for sleep now.
The moral of this story:
My dog has no idea how close he came to his own death.
.....and fuck Tylenol!
Son of a bitch!
I proceeded to shuffle my happy ass off to bed, when I figured I'd better take a shot of the ol' Tylenol sore throat medicine.
I'd felt somewhat ill the last few days; what could it hurt? I guess a family member thought it would be cute to pass it on to me unexpectedly. Anyhoo....
A bit later, I'm wide the fuck awake; when I shouldn't be, that is. So I check the tylenol bottle. Much to my surprise, nowhere on the bottle does it say nitetime, or daytime. I had only taken the recommended dosage. I never knew the effects of two table spoons would equate to a gram of crack! Any other time, this cheap buzz might have been fun. But not at 1 o'clock in the morning. Then 2am..then 3am.. I'm fairly pissed off by this time. By this time I mean the wee hours of the morn. It's so dead quiet around here, not even the ceiling fans could utter the slightest squeek.
Do you know what it sounds like when a dog drinks from the toilet? (no, they don't drink from the shitters here.) That wet lapping sound. Yeah, that's it. Now that you can hear it, try to think of what it sounds like coming from a flabby armpit.
That's right. The whole fuckin' time I'm staring at my eyelids, I'm listening to a piss poor excuse of mans best friend eating at his asshole. I can't think of a more irritating sound.
After about an hour or so, I could take no more. In a fit of blind rage, I whipped a shoe at the ass eating dipshit. Being that it was dark- I was as gracefull as a blind man pitching to Sammy Sosa. My failure to nail the mutt would only wake the wife.
She bounced up as if I had set her ass on fire. She had only darted a quick deadly glare my way as if to imply, "WTF!" and without so much as uttering a single word, she promptly bolted back off to sleepyland and the sounds of rusty chainsaws, that I had rudely interupted.
So here I am, two hours later. Still listening to the dog ensuring the world that he shall have the cleanest asshole in town. Suddenly the sound of a 5 o' clock alarm rips through the semi-silent air. Signaling to the dog that it's time to stop obsessively eating at his forever funky ass, ending my nightmare. The best part is; I've worked up a spiffy migraine through out the ordeal. And a new day has begun, no time for sleep now.
The moral of this story:
My dog has no idea how close he came to his own death.
.....and fuck Tylenol!
Son of a bitch!
I'm sure it sucked for you but that was the funniest thing I have read here this month.
