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Dripped Out

Dripped Out

Dripped Out

"Dripped out, bro,” my 19-year-old son comments as he scrutinizes my layered look du jour and hipster shades.

“The fit is fire,” I answer, dipping an eyebrow, admiring myself in the looking-glass and thinking, “Why does he persist in calling me "bro?"

"Bro" -- a word that vexes me more than "awesome" and even more than an emoji.

Hate emojis. Hate them.

But gifs, gifs I love.
So later that morn, the resident building heartthrob drops by the store with his canine sidekick, Reggie, a cocky fox terrier and DJ’s arch nemesis. 

Understand also that I trip out on Reggie. He's a wire-haired fox terrier, bro. All-time winning breed at Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, the Super Bowl dog event of the calendar.

"Nice coat...great coloration," I tell Heartthrob while inspecting Reggie's spectacular coat of many colours.

"Cuz he's hand-stripped," Heartthrob adds.

Of course. That's like $200 a pop, l'm thinking. Such a heartthrob thing to do. Westminster too.

Westminster -- it's on my bucket list. Should I tell that to Heartthrob?...Upon reflection -- no. It would be so cringe, especially if he's into bucket lists. This bro's the type with a list like:
  • Swim the English Channel
  • Climb Everest
  • Colonize Mars
And well, Westminster is all I got on mine. I hate travel, hate it. Why pay for diarrhea, when you can get it at home for free?

So Reggie hits our store running -- gobbling up every tasty tidbit DJ has socked away.

Doesn't sit too well either with DJ, my Welsh terrier; his Celtic blood boiling with rage.

"Cymru gu bràth!" He howls in Welsh Doggish.

An odd battle-cry for a canine born in St. Hiccup de Polyfart.

Meanwhile I’m in an intense discussion with Heartthrob, who points to my dripped-out shoes and jeans. He chuckles smugly like he's on the Tonight Show telling one of his schmatah biz stories.

"So the buyer tells me, Cancel the order."

"Fascinating," Jimmy Fallon says.

"Too late, I tell her. We already shipped and the kicker is: It was COD!" Jimmy grabs Heartthrob's muscled arm as they crash to the floor in hysterical laughter.

Back to story:

Before a word is uttered, I look down -- only to behold DJ peeing with impunity on my jeans and dripped-out shoes.

Heartthrob looks down and remarks, “I have the same shoes. You won't get that stain out."

And though I’m now dripped-out with puppy pee, I’m also thinking, I wear the same shoes Heartthrob?

Anyhow, after I clean up the wee wee, shower and detoxify, I'm still thinking about the incident — which by the way, has become the talk of the block.

DJ gave Dave a golden shower. Heartthrob saw it!

So next day, I ride the elevator with Heartthrob.

“Told my wife the story,” he says. "She was on the floor.”

“Mine too," I lie. My wife had to wash my jeans, scrub the embedded pee out of my blue suede shoes too.

Thereupon I focus my gaze on Heartthrob's shoes. He notices and I cringe out. 

“Same as you wore yesterday,” he says. 

Then the bro breaks out laughing like he's on The Tonight Show, which is probably on his bucket list, only worded slightly differently as in:
  • Hosting the Tonight Show

And well...I'm just me with not much of a bucket list. A guy who makes pet food. A guy who'll never sit down next to Jimmy and cackle in unison...although I'd like to. I think I could make Jimmy laugh.

So what?

I've got my little life where my dog pees on my leg and I'm good with that. Although a seat next to Jimmy would be nice.

And now a word from our sponsor:

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