Tag Archives: animals

#65 The Meathead With The Small Dog

Sometimes my Master and I play <em>Hide In The Colon!</em>

Sometimes he let's me play Hide In The Hot Dog!

We’ve all seen the swoll meathead out in public, usually devouring a high protein lunch, peppering his egg white omelet with several grunts and elbows propped awkwardly on the table. If his veiny-arm lumps weren’t enough to scare your kids, he’s now raised the ante — he’s purchased a rat and put a dog collar on it. Ahhh yeah…The Meathead with the Small Dog. His name says it all: a muscular goon with a quaint canine pet, usually in the form of a chihuahua, dachshund, or Yorkshire terrier. Either way, it’s a POS dog associated with stupid spoiled whores and Coach bags.

This walking hard-on’s entire life revolves around 3 daily chores: whey protein shakes, a 3-hour gym visit (plus 1 hour for looking at himself in the mirror), and walking his miniature dog. Where he finds the time to blow other men is a mystery to me.

BigGuySmallDogWhen purchasing a pet dog, most grown men follow the simple “Rule of Dog Kindness”: if you can kill your dog by accidentally stepping on it, then you don’t buy that dog. In other words, if you come home drunk at 3am and your stumbling to hit the light switch, maybe you mistakenly step on your dog’s paw — if your dog would die from such injuries, save the poor animals life. Don’t buy it. Don’t be a dick. Look at the size of your foot, if it’s bigger than your dogs head, this is a bad equation. Plus, that dog looks gay.

But alas, this is not a relevant factor with the Chiwawa-Meathead. He works out at the gym, defining his abs and glutes, right before strolling down the street with his puny pure bred (Editor’s Note: his dog’s probably named Ab or Glute). Both his workout regiment and his attention to his house pet are a tad bit on the aggressive side, and it should be noted there’s nothing more freakish than watching a 5’3” steroid in spandex shorts French kiss his Yorky at a sidewalk café.

Perhaps most intriguing, however, is that with all that buldging muscle and manly-manness asserted by the Meathead, he is virtually unaware of the latent homosexuality associated with his two favorite activities: lifting weights and feeding his Mr. Kittles a piece of his crepe. The act of being around a bunch of sweaty dudes, all groaning and moaning within the confines of heavy steel and cables, correlates well with sitting on a suede ottoman and letting Mr. Kittles lick your lips; both are the standard opening scenes to a mid-90s gay porno flick. And for all you germaphobes out there, sure Mr. Kittles just licked his hairy anus before licking Meathead, but in all fairness, Meathead has definitely tasted a hairy anus in the past. This is not a strange new world to Meathead. This is Friday nights at The Abbey.

Meathead and Small Dog can be found anywhere there are outdoor activities, weights, and lots and lots of hand jobs (mainly Los Angeles, Miami, and San Francisco). It’s not hard to spot this guy, even if he happens to be driving. Just look for the VW Beetle with the “I love my pets…and my pecks” bumper sticker.

By Scott Glockholder
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Also Know As: Turner and Mook, Black Rob’s Small Dog, Butt-Pirate and the Beast, Bitch and Bitches, Hot Dog and Donut Puncher, Paris Hilton, The Salad Tossers, BALCO & Alpo, Both Receivers of Doggy-Style Sex
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Filed under animals, annoying people, beach, body, guidos, gym, idiot accessories

#10 The Pet Dresser

Killing them with kindness
The Pet Dresser is like Joan River’s face. Wrong, hideous, and unnatural — but you’re not going to say anything because you know it won’t matter. They are an ugly breed, and unfortunatly, their pets pay the price.

They will go to great lengths and huge budgets to prove to the world that their pet is much more than a pet.  It’s a human. A human with four legs, a red rocket, and a massive wardrobe.

Sure, the “pet” will piss on the carpet and shed all over your clothes, but you’re not using your imagination!  You need to pretend that Muffy doesn’t smell like dog shit. Just look at that sweater. It costs more than a real person’s sweater.  

He is so unhappyThe Pet Dresser has a paradoxical relationship with their animal.  They care so much, but are oblivious to it’s misery.  If there was such a thing as animal suicide, these pets would certainly commit it. This “Football dog” would eat five pounds of chocolate if he knew it meant never wearing this freaking outfit again.

Unlike most assholes, the Pet Dresser is a niche idiot. They are almost exclusively rich females without children. Whorish starlets such as Paris Hilton have unfortunately made pet dressing more mainstream, but it is still a “luxury” habit. You can find the Pet Dresser in the suburbs, among the wealthy, and licking peanut butter off of housewives.

They prey on small dogs and cats — the smaller the animal, the better. Any good Pet Dresser knows that a tiny, fragile animal cannot protect itself, and will therefore will not bite your face when your forcing it into a mini turtle neck.

These people live in a world disconnected from reality. Dogs have sweaters and Cats wear hats. The “doghouse” is inside the owner’s purse. Needless to say, Pet Dressers tend to be an emotionally unstable bunch. If you are a single male and meet a girl with dressed-up Chihuahua, run for the hills. She’s got a problem for every wardrobe change.
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Also Known As: The Dog Torturer, Paws Are People Too, The “My Pet Is A Real Boy” Woman, Gepetto’s Pet, The PETA Sandwich

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Filed under animals, clothes, parents