A Glimpse Behind the Curtain

Danger Puppy is still out of commission for the most part. Β And Chaos Boy is busy being gainfully employed. For your entertainment, here is a digest of our text messages for the past week:


11:45 AM

CB: Lil Broffalo wants archery gear for Christmas. He’s totally down with the Doomsday Prepper thing. πŸ™‚

DP: LOL. That’s why he’s my Kentucky Kinfolk!

5:02 PM

DP: Gonna need a ride?

CB: No danke. you stay in puppy heating pad mode.

DP: Love!

CB: Lots!!!

DP: How do boy get home?

CB: Perambulatory transport

DP: You must REALLY love a puppy.

CB: LOL! Oh it’s da troof

DP: Don’t talk to the bums.

CB: Nah! I ain’t a skerta no bum!

DP: Puppy ib!

CB: I’m a big boy.

DP: πŸ™‚

CB: I’ll kick em in the ding ding and shit on em!

DP: That escalated quickly.


9:54 AM

DP: Bulging discs, sciatica. Waiting for Prednisone and Tylenol w/ codeine. Recheck in 2 weeks.

CB: My poor sweetie.

DP: A couple of different nerves are pinched.

CB: Anything I can do to help?

DP: Shoot me.


8:43 AM

DP: If there’s no soap in the shower does that mean I’m supposed to skip it?

CB: That means I’m a dipshit.

DP: It made me feel less bad about dropping one of the trimmer attachments in the potty and not going in after it. πŸ™‚

11:50 AM

DP: Holy shit! I just learned something new: “cunt stachel.” I can’t wait to use it!

CB: Wow! Love it.

DP: I’m supposed to ask you about spacedocking.

CB: Lil Broffalo & Sir Cheeto are some bad, bad men.

DP: I’m aware.

CB: Did they tell you about the Golden Homer?

DP: Wow.

4:53 PM

DP: Ain’t nothin more fun a human being can do on this earth than frog catchin.

CB: Awesome!

DP: Duck Dynasty is a philospher’s dream. “Sex of boudin? Let’s go with the boudin!”


2:46 PM

DP: You should take a few days off soon to decompress.

CB: No shit

DP: I would be your buddy.

CB: Thunderbuddies for life! Fuck you, Thunder! You’re just God’s farts!


8:31 AM

DP: BTW, my back doesn’t really hurt. I’ve been faking so you’d take care of me.

CB: πŸ™‚

DP: Really? No spanking?


2:08 PM

CB: I have to be in the office by 0615 tomorrow. I’ll be bussing it.

DP: Oooo. That’s icky. I can take you. I’m a fucking sweetheart.

CB: You sure are! And I love you a bonch!

DP: Nice how that works out, huh?

CB: Yup. πŸ™‚ ❀

DP: πŸ˜€

CB: <Nekkid Dance>


CB: <Waving Noodly Appendage>


CB: U rok. Which is different from The Iraq. And such as.

DP: πŸ˜€

CB: Dude, I’m on a roll today!


That’s Just What I Douche!

Some months ago, I (Danger Puppy) gave Chaos Boy mad shit because of something really douchey he said to me in a text message. I had filled my BevMo (if you don’t know what that is, I’m so sorry for you) virtual shopping cart with a couple hundred dollars worth of various wines for Chaos Boy to pick up on his way home from work. It was the 5 cent sale where you buy one bottle and get the 2nd for a nickel, so I had gone a little cray-cray. Chaos Boy was at work (because somebody has to make some money to pay for wine) when he got the email from BevMo telling him what I’d ordered. (Did I mention that you order what you want online that is available at your local store and go pick it up in an hour without having to go find all the wine yourself? It’s brilliant!) Anywho, after he read the list of some things we’d bought before and some we hadn’t, he sent me what I contend is the most douchey text message ever to cross my Crackberry (yes, I still have one of those – don’t judge me): “I love a good Zin!”

Obviously, me being the kind of puppy that I am, I have given him hell about this ever since. Imagine his excitement when he thought he caught me at the exact type of douchery yesterday.

A couple of days ago my BFF Kat posted a pic on her Facebook of a delightful looking cocktail she was enjoying:


It’s a delightful mix of Dove Chocolate Martini Mix, Atomic Red Hot Vodka, and Half & Half (with her super gorgeous tree in the background – I’m beginning to suspect she may be Santa). Very festive! A conversation ensued about what her friends were drinking. (I was only drinking water. That’s important for you to know.) Can you spot the douchery?


Now, if you’re dumb and your initials are “C.B.” you might think I’m the douche here. I would argue that I am, in fact, a bitch not a douche. Becky (look. at. her. butt.) is the douchey one for using a regional Spanish name for Tempranillo (unless she is a master sommelier in which case I bow to her for her accomplishment) instead of just calling it what we peons call it. I, on the other hand, am 1) hilarious for using Chaos Boy’s douchey comment to point out someone else’s douchey comment, and b) really good at not-so-subtle only slightly veiled bitchiness.

Basically, I win. That’s just what I douche!

Of course, maybe I should have taken the advice of my other friend, The Mighty Zorn (and I paraphrase slightly here):

You don’t always have to go big or go home. Sometimes you should just go home.


Throwing You a Bone

Not a lot of anything worth talking about has been happening around Danger-Chaos Central. In fact, we can pretty much summarize the week with only a few words from Danger Puppy:

Wah! Wah! Why me! Oh, my back! Oh, my hip! Oh, my knee!

<Ibuprofen. Heating pad. Ice Pack. Repeat.>

Wah! Wah! <Dun. Dun. Dun. CueΒ Jaws theme.> Shark week? Seriously? Chaos Boy, you have my permission to get a hooker!

Fear not. Danger Puppy is on the mend. Many thanks to Sir Cheeto and Lil Broffalo who brought over BevMo gift cards yesterday for Danger Puppy’s birthday. A little wine never hurt a Puppy. (Legal Disclaimer: That’s Puppy with a capital P. Not a lowercase one. Don’t get it twisted, and DO NOT give wine to a canine! What are you? A dumbass?)

Since we have nothing exciting to share, please direct your attention to this adorable puppy. Make it rain, y’all!