I live in Los Angeles. I run. I watch my health. Sometimes I give up meat for weeks at a time, not only because it is fashionable, but because I care about animals. I even have my own, an English bulldog named Mugzy. I’m sure you’d think he was adorable. I did because he costs more than most people’s rent. Expensive things are more important than love or common decency. I love Mugzy and he’s a great status symbol, but what do you do when that symbol gets a hard-on that seems to have lasted all goddamn day? First, I looked online. Then I called my dad and proceeded to get dressed to go out and get wasted because it was St. Patrick’s Day.
My dad is a noble and wonderful man. He was also willing to put on a rubber glove and attempt to use KY Jelly to ease my dog’s dick back into it’s sheath because the internet told us to. Too bad nothing in my entire life has been more hilarious than watching my dad give my dog a handjob. After a good 5 minutes of doing this my father exclaimed that my mother was way better at it and that I needed to take Mugzy to the vet, pronto. What’s a girl with a social agenda to do?
Apparently the answer is go to the emergency vet because otherwise the dog’s dick will rot off. So there I am, dressed like a whore with a dog that’s got a throbbing red rocket. Nothing screams LOOK AT ME like a slut and a boner. Especially when the people staring at you have animals with noble problems like eating an entire bottle of aspirin or getting hit by a stupid car. Still, the tragedy here isn’t that I looked like a slam pig, or that my father got to jack off my dog. No, it’s far worse. It’s the fact that I spent my St. Patrick’s Day watching a crazy Asian vet jerk my dog into submission totally sober while my friends got arrested or worse laid, without me.
