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TMI Thursday: Yes, I HAVE Been In Tiger’s Shoes.

(Hey y’all! It’s that time of the week again, and no I don’t mean where you have to take that pill because you saw Henry Winkler hit your stereo again, making it magically turn on. It’s TMI Thursday! This little bad boy was created by the ever popular blog cool chick LiLu, who happens to have more of these types of stories over at her blog. Just click on the picture of those two old people clearly enjoying what was an accidental Viagra overdose.)TMI Thursday

I told some of you rookies that I don’t do low brow a lot. I swear it’s true, you just happened to catch me on a two day streak. Also, let’s be honest, TMI Thursday is the EPITOME of low brow. I mean, it’s the point, right?

Like yesterday, this one has an animal in it, but this story should be a bit shorter. The reason I’m doing this for TMI and not Memoir Monday is because this has stuff in it that I’m embarrassed about, and it also contains more proof that I’m a douche.

Anydouchecanoe, (See? I told you I’d do it, BigSis) let’s get on with the story.

The Missus and I were newly married, and we were living in a quadplex that looked a lot like this.


Yeah, that’s to scale.

Anycramped, we couldn’t really move in that place without bumping into each other, which worked out great for me, because we were newlyweds, and well, bumping into each other usually involved the sex. So. Win win, right?


What they don’t tell you about being a newlywed is that eventually…

You’re not one anymore.

This is where the real world shit starts to happen. Shit like you get into a huge argument over the phone while you’re at work because she decides she wants a cat, but she’s allergic to cats and you try to tell her that, but she is DEAD SET on getting a cat, and you cuss at her like you’ve never cussed at anyone, so she hangs up on you, but you call back and she doesn’t answer so you cuss at an answering machine like you’ve never cussed at one before, but you forgot that your 11 year old brother who thinks you’re the bees knees is staying with you this weekend so he hears you cussing at your wife, and you feel really bad, and in the end…you get a frickin cat.

Shit like that.

So anyway, she got a cat, and we named it Jaqueda. Yep. You saw right.

I hate cats, so I decided that I’m going to get a dog. A little dog, something cool that I can teach tricks and maybe eventually will eat the cat.

So I got a German Shepherd.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. “Aren’t those really big? Like, huge?” And you’d be right, kind of. Because when we went to look at it, it was little. And cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute. Because it was a puppy, see? And puppies never grow up to maul your house or you mercilessly. (This is exactly why I’m not allowed to look at baby tigers)

We named him Kronos, and paid for him with a check, which bounced about a week later, which lead to a whole other situation of cussing on the phone. He was also the dog that I gave a golden shower to

We didn’t have a “yard” per se. When I say, per se, I mean we had a patch of grass that was about 4 feet by 4 feet in back of our “house.”

Potty training Kronos was a bitch. Right before we got rid of him, he had it nailed though.

Anyaccident, one day Kronos had been a bad dog, and he was in his cage in the back of the house, which he got mad about, so he shit in it, then barked a lot so we’d let him out.

Well, we hadn’t exactly TOLD our landlord that we were keeping a German Shepherd IN HIS RENTAL HOUSE. He was pissed about the cat, and we figured he wouldn’t be able to handle knowing a giant police dog was being kept in it too. I didn’t need this thing barking and letting all our other neighbors know that we had fuckin Rin-Tin-Tin cooped up in a cage designed for a poodle. (Don’t judge me. He ate good.)

So I’ve told you all that to tell you this. I used to be mean and cruel to animals. It wasn’t for fun, it was a way to take out aggression. I would hit them and stuff, and just generally be mean. When I look back on it now, it really makes me feel bad, and yeah, I’m sorry for it. What can I say? I’ve changed a lot, and I’m not that way anymore. Hell, I might even go out for an NFL draft. (Don’t jude me. He ate good.)

Anybeatsdogsandgoestoprison, I was mad at him for barking, and so I went back to the back bedroom where he was, and started poking him with a golf club everytime he made a noise. I was trying to teach him to shut up, and yes, I fully plan on using this method with my children. (Don’t judge me. They’ll eat…well, whatever I leave them.)

The Missus, God love her, decided she had had about enough of my animal cruelty. So she dealt with it.

She came back, grabbed the golf club out of my hand, and SWUNG IT AS HARD AS SHE COULD AT MY FACE.

Here’s how I know that I’m cooler than Tiger.

The Missus, God love her, didn’t hit me with my own club.

I caught the club in mid-swing, bruising my hand pretty badly, then I wrapped my arm around it, pulled her in real close to me, face to face, and just stood there.

“Get out of my house.” she said.

I laughed at her, told her to let go of the golf club, she did, I put it back in my bag, and I went and watched TV. (Don’t judge me. She ate good.)

I’ll tell you this though, from that day on, I’ve been nice to animals.

Well, with the exception of poor Kevin. (Don’t judge me. He jumped in front of MY truck.)

Editors Note: Listen, I loved that dog, even though I was mean to him. Some of you feel that way about your spouse, so seriously, don’t judge. We had Kronos about a year, and he tore that little house of ours to shreds. He had help, but that’s another story for another day. When I had to get rid of him, I was teaching him how to turn the lights on and off. I trained that dog with mints leftover from our wedding. He was the best dog I’ve ever had, and I still miss the hell out of him. Wherever you are, Kronos, I miss you, and I hope you’re doing well. Oh. And please don’t call the ASCPA or Animal Planet or anybody on me, please? I don’t need a commercial made ABOUT me.