Been planning it for years...

This is a true story:

Last night around 10:00, I heard a noise at the door. My intuition that it was for me kicked in, and I went to scope it out. Mom is as deaf as a leopard these days, so of course she didn’t even hear me grumbling, “old hag’s good for nothing,” as I pranced toward the door.



(I'd give both dew claws for hair that big and shorts that short...whew doggy!)


Behind door number 1 was a frightened mutt with leash still attached. I asked this puppy (who was 3 times my size, naturally):

“Whoa, I say! Who goes there!?” (I love using my Shakespearean accent every chance I get; makes me snigger every time)

Puppy: “I’m a run-a-way.”

Me: “Hate it for you. I’m a spoiled brat.”

Puppy: “I’m terrified of stairs and can’t get down them.”

Me: “Oh, a classic case of bathmophobia.”

Puppy: “My owner would beat me and throw me down flights of stairs, so I had to leave. I’ve been
up on the roof for about an hour, but I decided not to end my life.”

Me: “What do you want? A consolation prize? SCRAM!”

My mother immediately noticed I wasn’t up her rear-end and was about to make a mad-dash for the Moghul Sweets 2 blocks away

(tasty Indian delicacies…if you can’t beat em’, join em’!), when she came to assess the situation. Apparently, my mother has a much bigger heart than she let’s everyone believe and tried to coerce the gangly creature to the bottom floor with MY treats (like I said, good for nothing).

Forty-five minutes later after Sarah McLachlan strolled back in from aiding PETA,

all I heard was how big of a bitch I had been to the freakishly large puppy. Then she pulls out the ammo….The big guns… The one thing she knows will forever get under my skin follicles.

“You have the worst case of LMS I’ve ever witnessed, Joe…in my LIFE.”

I gasped for air. Mom took a concurrent hit to the nads, gut and face with the Little Man’s Syndrome remark..



(i had to put the DeVito in here...it just makes sense)

“WHAT THE HELL!! You know how I feel about that identifier, Mom!”

“You brought this on yourself, Julian. Bullying stray pets!? Trying to rip a hole the size of your dad’s monkey-ass into Cooper’s neck?! The constant need to be in the front of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE!?”

“I get that last one honestly, MOM! Spank you very much… I’m texting dad and telling him what you said.”

I methodically plotted the tactical strategy of using one parent against the other (anyone with half a brain knows 60% percent of the time, it works every time….<---I just made that up). I ran under Mauricio’s bed and began texting in a whirlwind of rage and exasperation. I was so caught up in tattling on mom I didn’t realize it was past my texting curfew… but it was too late.

Here was the conversation:

“Dad, I just wanted to inform you that mom’s talking mad trash about you, and since I’m your homeboy, I thought I’d let you know.”

10 minutes later….

“Joe, what the hell are you doing texting me at 11:30 on a week night? If this isn’t an emergency, your pimpled butt is MINE when I get home tomorrow.”

I had no other choice but to laugh at his comment seeing as how my mom hits way harder than he does (amateur..pshhht). His threat didn’t scare me the least bit. In fact, I laugh in his face every time he swats and misses… My friend’s call me whiskers, because I’m quick like a cat.



(That's right, Max. Read it and weep, gay-boy. Don't you think for one single second I'm jealous of your whiskers)



Speaking of whiskers, I’ve been thinking about growing a mustache. My beards the jam, there’s no doubt about that, but I think a stash would give me a little more edge. I asked mom her thoughts about this, and I think she said something like,

“Yeah, that’s the perfect way to get little boys in your time-out bed. Good idea, Joe."




Whatever, I’m still partial to the idea. I’d like to know what my followers think







Until next time, Sayonora, suckers!