Monday, September 28, 2015

Shaken Doggie Syndrome

Last week Brandon got the opportunity to fulfill his lifelong goal of being able to play detective. No, it wasn’t Colonel Mustard in the living room with the double-sided dildo. It wasn’t that kind of detective game. You see, Brandon and Heidi came home from dinner to find the tattered remains of a pack of gum, eviscerated and strewn about the living room floor like a sugar-free crime scene.

And while at first we didn’t think much of it, we decided to check the Internet and make sure eating an entire pack of gum wasn’t going to kill our dogs. Much to our surprise, we found out that yes, it was going to kill them so hard. As it turns out, a common ingredient in sugar-free gum is a fake sugar substitute called Xylitol, which is great for people but sort of liquefies the insides of a dog.

So the mystery at hand became figuring out which of the dogs had a ticking time bomb in its gut. It was either Sammy the Rat terrier, who chews on anything and everything, or Abby the German Shepherd, who's afraid of her own shadow.

And just like that, the game of detective was over. We called the 24-hour emergency vet, and the doctor said to bring the dumb, gum chewing butthole in immediately, because it was likely that for a dog his size, the whole pack of gum could have him packing his bags for doggie heaven. Or doggie hell. But we think heaven, because he's been a pretty good dog up to this point...gum chewing aside.

So it was off to the 24-hour clinic. Sammy was checked in, and swiftly ushered into the back room where he was lucky enough to endure induced vomiting (I believe the technical term is “the supermodel’s dessert”). And you know, it's funny, because they call it stomach pumping, and yet there's no pumping involved. That part was kind of disappointing.

Regardless, once Sammy was purged, while he looked damn slim and sexy, the doctors didn’t find a single stick of gum in his barf. Which meant only one thing. My wife and I were shitty detectives.

Turns out it had been the Abby the Shepherd after all. Fortunately, she’s a lot bigger than Sammy and her body weight might have meant she’d be fine with eating poison, but just in case she wasn’t, the doggie ER was there and willing to help...for more money, of course.

For once in my life, I was thankful that Abby was an uncontrollable car puker. So I decided to tackle the problem DIY-style.

And so for the next thirty minutes, at eleven o’clock at night, I Mad Maxed my way through the streets, veering, swerving, and doing donuts like an alcoholic stunt driver all in an effort to make my adorably dumbass dog blow chunks in the backseat of my truck.

And it worked like a charm. A disgusting, swampy charm. Why the backseat, you may ask, and not the bed of the truck? Well, if you've ever seen a full-sized dog projectile vomit, then you know it's for the sake of everyone else on the road.

In the end, Abby tossed her Xylitol-filled cookies three times, and it became immediately apparent by the not-so-fresh fruity stench that she had indeed been the gum eater. When all was said and done, my truck smelled like the Kool-Aid man had used it for a week-long bender...but at least the dogs were safe.

Pictured when not eating poisonous gum

The moral of the story here is pretty obvious. You’re never sure until you’re vomit sure. Those are words to live by, really.

Cheers and stay classy, folks,
Brandon (and Bryan)

Beer: Great Basin Chilebeso
Music: Billy Joe Shaver

Monday, September 21, 2015

The Startup Company: Where Dreams Become Poverty

Back when we were both trying to enter the workforce and become contributing members of society (ha!), before we became the wealthy, extravagant writers that we are today (ha! x2), we both applied to work at various tech-related startups.

If you're unfamiliar, a startup is like a regular business, except it doesn't have employees. Or money. But boy do they make it sound like fun to work there!

And it's the most bizarre business experience you can ever have. It's almost like stepping into another world. The startup office itself looks nothing like a regular office. Everything is brightly colored and covered in memes. People sit on couches and beanbags instead of chairs. They have things like video game stations and nap rooms and you can wear shorts and sandals to work.

It almost sounds fun, if it wasn't for the fact that your boss is invariably some walking pair of plaid shorts and flip flops named Brad who's armed to the teeth with empty promises and buzzwords galore.

Brad is full of hopes and dreams. And bullshit. Mostly bullshit. He thinks that his company will be the next Google, which is why currently he can only pay you $10 an hour to be his full time Senior Level Database Administrator... but, you know, it'll totally be worth it when his office of ten becomes a Fortune 500 Company reaping in millions and he can hook you up for being there since day one.

And it's okay, though, because a cool, modern startup has other perks. What it lacks in money and healthcare it more than makes up for in ping pong tables and foosball and air hockey. Working at a trendy startup company is basically like a grown-up version of recess.

But alas, not every young company can become Google, and all the parlor games and beanbag chair naps and flip-flop-wearing in the world can't make a company worth working at if you're getting paid McDonald's wages for high-level IT work.

The young, trendy startup company - it's fun as hell when it's successful, but it's really quite sad when it's not. We encountered plenty of the latter, and weren't willing to make next to nothing in the name of workplace ping pong. We figure if we're going to make a really crappy wage (like we are now), then at least we're going to be doing it with something we truly love, like writing.

Anyone else here worked for a trendy startup?

Cheers and stay classy, friends,

Music: Fallout 3 Soundtrack
Beer: Betty IPA

Monday, September 14, 2015

Adventures In Online Dating: Choke Me Baby One More Time

Online dating is a great way to snag up a spouse. It's also a great way to meet the mentally unstable headcases trolling the furthest depths of the backalley that is the Internet dating website. As many of you know, it's not the first time we've shared our experiences with this.

In part one, we met a woman who was fond of surprises (surprise, it's herpes!), and in part two we met a woman who did a really awesome job at hiding her crippling physical handicaps until it was date time.

Today we want to start off by telling you about Mary, a gal that Bryan met for a drink back when he was trying out online dating. Now, where most people would have started off a conversation with a 'hi' or a 'how are you?' and therefore beat around the crazy bush, Mary wanted to get straight to the point and lay out all of her craziness onto the table immediately. Literally.

Mary, upon meeting me, had a memorized laundry list of dos and don'ts that I, as a potential date, must abide by. I don't remember all of them (and not all of them were crazy), but here are some highlights.

1) You must open doors for me. Especially the car door. I had an ex do that once and I loved it, so now I make every guy do it.

2) You can buy me flowers - and should, because I love them - but just don't ever buy me roses. I once dated a guy who bought me roses, but he broke my heart and now whenever I see them I think of him and it makes me sad.

3) If we make it to the bedroom, I don't do doggystyle. I had an ex that could only finish that way, and it felt demeaning, so now I just don't do that at all with anybody.

4) I'm Jewish, and I know that's not a problem for you, but let me just say that there will NEVER be a Christmas tree in my home. Ever. So if we date, just remember that you will never celebrate Christmas ever again.

No, I'm not kidding. She actually said the words "you will never celebrate Christmas ever again."

Aside from that, do you see a pattern? That's right, she basically wanted to take out every grievance she's ever had with an ex-boyfriend on me, going so far as to say in the first 10 minutes of meeting me that if we ever became a thing, I could not engage in a particular sexual position because another guy ruined it for her.

Needless to say, we did not become a "thing". Nor was there a second date. Like the tactful gentleman I am, I ran for my fucking life.

I thought she was a sexual weirdo, but oh boy was I wrong. No, it was Steffi who was the real sexual weirdo. I met her for coffee after exchanging a few messages online, and if you thought Mary's list was TMI (too much information), that was nothing compared to Steffi's icebreaker.

Yeah, so Steffi's thing was being choked with a belt until she blacked out while getting the D. And I mean, I'm no prude, but I just have no desire to sexually strangle a woman until the life is drained from her body.

She also said (seriously) that she traditionally dated EMTs because they were "trained to properly resuscitate her", but that I was so "cute" she was willing to give me a chance.

Uh... thanks?

Ultimately, I had no desire to date a girl that wanted me to choke her unconscious and potentially kill her just to achieve orgasm, so I never called her or saw her again. I mean, did we learn nothing from David Carradine?

Now those were some terrible stories about me, but as an honorable mention, let's not forget the time Brandon started talking to a woman online, only to find out she was a Bigfoot.

Okay, that didn't really happen, but we didn't want Brandon to feel left out of this post. And while Bigfoot may or may not exist, the crazy-lady-laundry-list and the choke-me-unconscious girl definitely did, and somehow those both are a bit scarier than a yeti in a dress.

Cheers and stay classy, friends,

Music: Bernhoft
Beer: Goose Island Oktoberfest