seven-seven

so,
me and my peoples rocked our day off together.
and we did it so hard.
we decided to go to the green elephant,
in portland, maine,
and completely F* up their menu.
taking no prisoners,
munching up everythin right down to the garnish, even.
no sh!t, we tuned-up eight different appetizers,
and four entrees,
in about twenty minutes total.
that's vegan championship eatin' at it's most accomplished.
our server pointed out that we were the MOST accomplished gluttons
in the entire history of the eatery.
fatty boombatty as 'uck,
except on the inside, mutha-holes!
recognize.
that's not leftover fireworks, that's thunder.
we brought it back with us in lieu of a doggy bag.
speakin' of doggie bags;
what could be the downside of such a terrific trip?
well, irony is a sunovagun.
while cookin' down the backwoods highway lanes,
on our way from the woodsly goodness
to the dead-ocean scented fishy sh!tty city,
there was an accident.
yep.
no,
not a twenty-car pileup.
not a hydroplaning off-road collision.
not even a flat-tire skidder.
it was something even more destructive
(considering my animal-crazed pet-lovin' ol' lady, i mean)
i bashed a dog in the face with my car.
i'm serious,
a carful of vegans headed to a vegan restaurant
colliding with a canine cannonball at about 50 miles per hour.
like i said.
really, the stupid lucky litle a-hole ran into my car,
straight from out of the woods.
the craziest part?
the dog bounced off the side of my car,
then almost got squished under a truck,
ran around going completely batsh!t bananas,
and then sat down licking it's whole head.
licking it's head?
yeah.
licking it's head;
which happened to be chock to the nostrils with porcupine quills.
where was the porcupine?
splayed across the OTHER side of the street.
Q: why did the husky cross the road?
A: to get revenge on his A-hole porcupine nemesis,
and attempt to crap up my evening.
sooooo,
a policeman-type fella happened to be right there
and took proactive participation upon himself.
jess and casey leapt from my almost stopped car
jogged down the street,
and ponied up to the injured suicidal dogtard
in order to flex to their amateur veterinary muscles.
no broken bits,
no gory gut gouts.
lucky dog.
he's at the dog hospital, i guess.
the quilly pincushion muzzleloadin' seemed the worst of his injuries.
my car was fine.
the ladies were a bit frazzled,
but a big bold bellyful of incredible edibles cured it right up....
what a day.
what a day.
what. a. day;
never quiet, never soft.......