My Mom's Dog Is Such A Fucking Jew

You know when you go home for a nice home-cooked meal, some quality time with your family, the pleasures of a comfortable hearth and the memories of safety, acceptance, and love that go with the aforementioned inalienable rights of the twenty-nothing urbanite? Do you? Awesome. Mail me some time and let me know how all that feels. Asshole.

Did you know that they make pepperoni out of bison meat for spoiled yuppie dogs? Did you know it's called PupPeroni? Yeah, fuck me.

As I was preparing to do dishes tonight, about to put my plate in the sink, I heard a menacing growl, approaching with startling quickness, followed by a shout of warning from my mother. Apparently the dog gets really upset when not allowed to lick all of the plates. I mean really upset. I mean I'll-tear-your-fucking-hand-off-upset. Just picture me watching you pour out the last half ounce of vodka in a bottle left over from the party the night before. I mean seriously, what kind of an asshole....

Anyway, after arguing about politics, poetry, and my total refusal to turn into a responsible human being, I left for the comfort of my own home and the company of my new friend Tobias. Feeling demoralized and insecure, as usual, I reflected on my relationship with my mother. Well, I thought, the evening wasn't a complete waste; I jacked a full jar of my favorite sourkraut. And I fucking love sourkraut. Don't test me.