The Official Hog Blog
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
HAIKU WEDNESDAY
Arrive untimely,
we shall get to where we go.
All together now.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Cool Shit!!!
Read about Dokken
What the f--k?!!?!?
Learn about Ray Barretto from O-Dub, your soul guide.
Drink whiskey
Cathy and Michelle were the bitchiest girls in school. Its not like they bitched about everything, but were bitchy about everything. Neither of them had a boyfriend, and we liked to say that they were "hot to trot." Of course, no self-respecting young teenager wanted to deal with them. Nobody wanted to hear their precocious sneers, their continuous sighs of disapproval as if the world would never get it. Like they were waiting for the entire world to be cool. To be anything but boring, which it was. Always. Never Enough.
"Like, God, when is it going to possibly live up to all of my expectations?" they'd think. But, the whole world would never live up to their expectations.
I had a crush on Michelle, with black hair and a widow's peak. Very young to have gray hairs, but I thought it was sexy. On Valentine's day, all the kids bought bulk holiday cards with smurfs, or fraggles, or farm animals, or whatever the local A&P was selling out front. We'd swap them with each other, and it meant nothing to most the kids. But to some of us, the notes we'd scrawl had lovely intentions. Love notes that could lead to romance and soon after, maybe a little kiss. And kisses could only lead to more romance, possibly even falling in love. So, to me, these valentines day cards were practically proposals. because I was head over heels for Michelle......
No matter how bitchy she was.
"Here Michelle," I mumbled. Too shy to raise my face to look at her, I jabbed my hand out blindly.
"Oh, That would be nice, if you were my valentine," she said and turned and walked away.
Later that year, I asked her out, and she turned me down.
She said,
"Um, Like, are you kidding me? If I even mentioned you in my blog or on MySpace, people would think I am such a slacker. I'm trying to get as many friends as possible, and you would not help."
To make it even worse, this time when she turned and walked away, she first said "N---a please."
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
After his divorce, Marty Nine got a dog. It was a beagle and was very cute, with its brown and black spots and its tiny little paws. It would hop up on Marty whenever he returned from work, and it would hide if it made a boo boo and pooped inside the house. Marty never liked the dog. To be frank, he didn’t like animals at all. Initially, getting a dog was supposed to give Marty a sense of camaraderie in what seemed to be an incredibly mundane, lonely life filled with days locked into a computer programmer’s job, and evenings in front of the television, or frequently at bars and strip clubs. Ultimately, though, the dog became a nuisance. Its constant need for adoration, or attention drove Marty crazy.
The dog would eventually suffer under Marty’s nastiness, but nothing physically abusive. He named it Pencil Pusher, mirroring his day job to some degree, and Shortened that to Pee Pee, or Pencil. Pencil was subjected to all sorts of cruelty under Marty, the least of which was Nine’s penchant for pouring whiskey into Pencil’s dog bowl along with his water. When Pencil got drunk, Marty would sit and laugh, with his own whiskey in hand, as the puppy wobbled across the floor, ran into the walls chasing its tail or just lay there, unable to move.
Pencil had only one testicle, adding insult to Marty’s dislike for the dog. How had he overlooked the fact that his puppy had only one nut? What kind of unkind existence is that? How do the other dogs look at Pencil, when they come around and give a sniff? Inside, Marty wondered if he could take the dog to a specialist and either add another testicle, or give his dog a complete overhaul, maybe turn him into a female dog.
On weekends, Marty hoped to meet women with the aid of his cute, single-nut puppy. He took Pencil to the park and watched joggers run past while Pencil playfully chased the other dogs. Marty never approached the pretty women he’d see passing by as he sat staring lifelessly from a bench, casually sipping from his “to-go” cup of coffee. He simply stared ahead, wondering when this dog might become the chick magnet he’d imagined it to be.
