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A lifestyle blog by Buffy Charlet on The Whole 9

Buffy Charlet grew up on a hippie commune and then fell in love with hip hop. From Teepee to Easy E, there’s really no explaining it. She’s been everything from a hand model to an editor at Hustler Magazine to a bartender. Now she’s just livin’ the dream, between shifts.

Golden Retrievers are Nerds

I’m not gonna make any friends with this one. I might try to win back your favor with some Hustler letters, but until then, in the wise words of NeNe, “I’m good on friends.” (I just really wanted to work in that quote.)

Anyfloozy, as you know, I’m the proud parent of a child who made honor roll. [Translation: I wuv my doggy and kids irritate me.] A couple times a week I take her to the dog park. In a former life (i.e. my 20s) I wouldn’t have believed I was capable of such domesticity (yes, I classify this as being domestic, along with putting on clean clothes). The dog park presents all sorts of hilarity—dogs humping, licking a-holes, and rolling in poop being the least of it. Typically it’s the insanity of the dog owners that has me fully entertained (I know this doesn’t say much for me).

But I digress…the only really snoozefest part of the park are the Golden Retrievers. They’re about as exciting as watching dust collect. I fall asleep every time one prances by. They just rub me the wrong way like Jesus freaks and cheerleaders.

“Oh, they’re so smart, and tender around children, and eager to please.”

Pft. First of all, I only like the word “tender” if it’s being used to describe chicken nuggets and second, I don’t respect something that’s sooo eager to please. I want my dog to have random acts of misbehavior. You know, if she’s around a Yorkie who’s being a real asshole, I want my dog to give it a paw across the face. Nothing to hurt the Yorkie, but just a little reminder that just because you’re tiny, and cute and worth a ton of money, doesn’t mean you can be an asshole, okay Miley Cyrus? So check yourself.

Oh, what, you do house work now? Give it a rest.

A Golden Retriever’s way too much of a nice guy to stand up for himself. Pathetic. And a Golden Retriever would never just one day take a random shit on the floor. My dog will though. Yeah, every now and then, just a random shit on the floor, just to remind me that she’s not too eager to please me.

But see, I love that. I mean, at the time I’m FIRED UP because I have to clean up stanky ass-loaf but really, there’s days when I fucking hate my life and I’d really love to drop a load on the floor. Or when you’re really hungover, lying in bed, but you have to pee like a mofo. You know once you stand up bricks will start crushing your skull together. If you knew someone else was going to clean it up for you, wouldn’t you just love to piss the sheets? Even just once, for the thrill of it. Some idiot human is going to clean it up for you—fucking jackpot.

I want to live vicariously through my dog. Hump every and any piece of ass that walks by, eat anything I can get my mouth on. Because when you’re a dog, there’s no bikini to fit into, so fuck it! Eat till I puke! And then eat my puke! I’d sleep all day, tear up the couch, just because it’s Wednesday. And for reals, I don’t want my dog to be too good or else when it dies I’ll be devastated. I want to look back at the day she gave a Pomeranian stitches and then took a dump on my area rug and be like, hmm, think I’ll buy a fern.

  1. As I always tell Willow “Crazy, hazy, dazy, scazy, wazy.” Good to see you around Buffy…I hope you are very well :-)

  2. You kill me, Buffy, with your potty-mouth and hilarious take on things (even if you do look like you’re 30-whatever going on16 and bag on poor, noble Golden Retrievers; I mean will your mutt drag you from a burning building or just go, “Bummer… oh look somebody dropped half a macmuffin…check ya later dude, hey don’t look at me all crazy, it’s just how we doggies do)! LMAO

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