I doubt I’ll look this good … though hopefully less furry.

Rosie, aka Rosa, aka Rosie Posie, aka Puppy Chow, aka Shit Bird, aka Knuckles Guditucci, turns 12 today. (That’s 61 in people years, for those a little slow on the uptake.)

Happy birthday, little monkey!

People who read this post also read …

• Hear Me on That

(Possibly) related items

• ¡Feliz Cumpleaños!
• Is That a Clammy Reptile in Your Pocket or Are You Happy to See Me?
• Kiki’s Big Adventure: Day 1 Outtakes

It’s official! I’m the funniest person alive.

Today I received a call from my friendly neighborhood collection agent. See, my bank account had slipped under the, um, preferred balance of greater than or equal to zero. Anyway, the collection agent begins to ask me the 80 billion questions they need to ask to confirm I’m me.

“What is your bank account number?” she asks.

I see where this is going, but I try to play nice. “I don’t have it on me … you called me.”

“Okay, we can look it up by your social security number.”

“It’s 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9.”

“What is your home telephone number?”

“6-1-7-5-5-5-1-2-1-2.”

“What’s your cell number?”

“Same.”

“Well, what is 6-1-7-5-5-5-2-3-2-3 then?”

Choosing to overlook the fact that, for all she knows, she has just given a customer’s cell number to an imposter, I try to cut to the chase.

“Uh, it’s an old number. What is this in regards to?”

“It is in regards to a personal banking matter. What is your maternal grandmother’s shoe size?”

We finally get through the security check, with her apparently convinced that I am me. When she comes up for air, I jump in to let her know about the deposit I made earlier in the day.

“Okay, let me go look that up.”

If you have access to this on your computer, why the fuck did you call me in the first place?!?

That’s what I’m thinkin’, but I just say, “Okay, sure.”

She comes back on the line and tells me a bunch more stuff I already know. “Your deposit was …” “Your balance is …”

I can tell we’re gettin’ to the home stretch. I can hear it in her voice. She kinda hesitates and asks, “Do you have any idea how this situation occurred?”

“Uh … I ran out of money,” I say.

For my frankness, I was rewarded with the most gratifying sound I have heard in quite a long time … she laughed! I made a fucking collection agent laugh. And it was no snort or guffaw either. It was full-on laughter.

Niiiice. That made the whole exercise in time wastage worthwhile.

(Possibly) related items

• Long Night’s Journey Into Day
• Fair and Balanced
• Write good. Don't suck.

So I see the new Gay Issue of Stuff @ Night, and I think “Aaww … maybe they don’t entirely suck.”

Then I flip it open. On the front inside cover … literally, the first flippin’ page … and I see this:

In case the picture’s too crappy for ya to see, it’s an ad for a Montreal casino that’s enticing men to visit with promises of French Canadian tail (and cash). Nevermind that she’s probably a con artist who’ll handcuff him to the bed in some seedy motel and abscond with his wallet and his pants, they couldn’t feature a male con artist, er, piece of tail?

No, wait. There’s more. A spread offering fashion “advice” for folks planning on hitting the gay pride parade.

Okay, I’m certainly no expert on the attitudes of gay people everywhere, but who doesn’t love to be told what to do by people who think they’re too cool for school? Also, I imagine gay people are especially fond of stupid stereotypes. Why wouldn’t they be?

Finally, the coup de grâce, S@N‘s regular column featuring random locals commenting on random shit this time ’round asked women their opinions on men’s relationships with their mothers.

WTF, man?!?

(Possibly) related items

• Wine and Sweet Words
• Dead Guys I Like, Part 8
• Hear Me on That

Yup, that’s me and Conway Twitty. Was I the fuckin’ proto-hipster or what? I mean, check those pants and the disaffected smirk.

(Possibly) related items

• Eavesdropping, Fisting and Other Things To Do When Sleep Is Elusive
• ¡Feliz Cumpleaños!
• Filed under: Things that Should Remain Unspoken

• Falco. “Baby, baby, do it to me, rock me.”
• George Burns. “The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending, then having the two as close together as possible.”
• Mitch Hedberg. “I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going and hook up with them later.”

That’s all for now.

People who read this post also read …

• Dead Guys I Like, Part 7
• Dead Guys I Like, Part 4
• Once in a Blue Moon: A Meditation on Auspices
• Dead Guys I Like, Part 3
• 575 Words Not about Cheese

(Possibly) related items

• Wine and Sweet Words
• Dead Guys I Like, Part 8
• Hear Me on That