SLEEPS WITH DOGS T SHIRT - SLEEPS WITH DOGS

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Sleeps With Dogs T Shirt


sleeps with dogs t shirt
    t shirt
  • T Shirt is a 1976 album by Loudon Wainwright III. Unlike his earlier records, this (and the subsequent 'Final Exam') saw Wainwright adopt a full blown rock band (Slowtrain) - though there are acoustic songs on T-Shirt, including a talking blues.
  • A short-sleeved casual top, generally made of cotton, having the shape of a T when spread out flat
  • jersey: a close-fitting pullover shirt
  • A T-shirt (T shirt or tee) is a shirt which is pulled on over the head to cover most of a person's torso. A T-shirt is usually buttonless and collarless, with a round neck and short sleeves.
    sleeps
  • After 1920, since George Yeats found the sessions of Automatic Script increasingly draining, the Yeatses started the practice of ‘Sleeps’, where George would enter a trance and speak, while W. B. Yeats noted what she said.
  • Fail to be woken by
  • Rest in such a condition; be asleep
  • Have sexual intercourse or be involved in a sexual relationship
    dogs
  • A domesticated carnivorous mammal that typically has a long snout, an acute sense of smell, and a barking, howling, or whining voice. It is widely kept as a pet or for work or field sports
  • (dog) chase: go after with the intent to catch; "The policeman chased the mugger down the alley"; "the dog chased the rabbit"
  • (dog) frump: a dull unattractive unpleasant girl or woman; "she got a reputation as a frump"; "she's a real dog"
  • A wild animal of the dog family
  • The male of an animal of the dog family, or of some other mammals such as the otter
  • (dog) a member of the genus Canis (probably descended from the common wolf) that has been domesticated by man since prehistoric times; occurs in many breeds; "the dog barked all night"

I'm With Douche- Me with Dog the Bounty Hunter- what a racist douche.
I'm With Douche- Me with Dog the Bounty Hunter- what a racist douche.
Make sure to read all the way down through the comments. It gets really good. Like the gift that just keeps on giving. 2000+ views. Go figure. Me with my "mulleted friend". ------------------------------------- Dog the Bounty Hunter was at Heritage Square in Golden, Colorado with his family, and we were there for LeeAndra's cousin's birthday party. Heritage Square is a pretty neat little Old-West style amusment park with good kiddie rides, sweet alpine slides, and a touristy main-street shopping area. I am not a fan, to say the least, of this douchebag. Wikipedia him or "Duane Chapman", and you will see why. Find "Dog the Bounty Hunter Racist rant" on YouTube to hear this peach of a human in action. If you are a fan of his show, there is a lowest common denominator at work. According to Wikipedia, he is a murderer, an armed robber, and a former gang member. According to me and anyone with common sense, he is a racist, an attention whore, and a douche. The rumor spread like wildfire that he was somewhere in the park. Damn, but I didn't have my real camera, because we were just there for my girlfriend's little cousin's birthday, and I hadn't wanted to take the chance of smashing it on the alpine slide. An hour or so went by, and I was on the way past some rides to find a bathroom, and here he comes, in all his mulleted glory. I will admit, I was transfixed by that vision, and almost wasn't able to call my girlfriend to sprint to my location with her cell phone with the better camera in it. I tried to keep my giddiness on the down-low, and was turned towards a fence with my hand cupped over the phone whispering as loudly as I could for her to hurry the fuck up and get over here before OH GOD HE JUST BRUSHED PAST ME IN THE CROWD AND TOUCHED MY ELBOW SWEET LORD THAT THING IS MAGNIFICENT IT MUST HAVE MYSTICAL POWERS WHY AM I CRYING OH ARE THOSE THE FEATHERS OF AN ANGEL WILL ANYONE BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED WHERE IS THAT DAMN CAMERA PHONE THERE SHE IS WHY ISN'T SHE RUNNING WHY ISN'T SHE CRYING CAN'T SHE SEE HIM OR IS THE LIGHT TOO BRILLIANT..... So we catch up to him, and it turns out the dude is a kid and white-trash magnet, and my girlfriend's little cousin is in the crowd getting an autograph. I thus see my opportunity, and have her snap me in a Colbert-like pose with Dog's mullet while his back is turned. Now I have this picture with my mulleted friend. To really paint the picture for you, he was wearing that blue silky shirt with NO BUTTONS BUTTONED and a giant gold medallion swinging across a forest of chest hair. He had tanned, leathery skin and the look of a man who has lived a life full of regret. He had a southwestern-style black leather pouch of some kind with chrome conchos and silver tassles dangling from it next to a turquoise (I think) belt buckle. I'll feel bad if that pouch was actually an insulin pump, or something, but I bet it was a big-ass can of pepper spray or maybe some sweet magical nun-chucka for use in the art of Kara-te'. And tight black jeans. And, oh yes, the rumor spread like wildfire in the restaurant that they had seen his wife somewhere, too, in all her boob-zilla-ness. Ends up the dude is there with his family, and seemed really nice to his fans. I didn't notice any African-Americans among the autograph seekers, though. I heard him tell a few people that he would be happy to take pictures and do autographs, but just for the kids. He must have kissed hands and shaken babies for a half hour, and finally got a picnic table in the restaurant down the row from us, and just enjoyed the quiet time for a bit with his kids. Talk about a brush with greatness. This was better than the time that I was giving first aid to some unconscious guy on the ground in front of a restaurant, and almost used a fur coat that was offered by a woman and her husband in the crowd to keep the dude warm as he lay bleeding on the ice. Turns out the husband standing over me was a prominent local news anchor, and I looked up and called him by the wrong name, specifically that of an anchor from a competing station. Here's how that exchange went: "Thanks, ma'am, but we've got another coat here and I don't want to get any blood on your fur coat...(I look up)...Wow, you're Ed Sardella." "No, actually I'm Ward Lucas." I didn't get a picture of that, and Ward Lucas sure didn't have a magical mullet like Dog's...Actually, that was much better, because Ward Lucas was really cool and a not a racist douche, and the Chinese restaurant gave me and my buddy free dessert because we "save man life!" Talk about mad photoshop skills! Thanks to LeeAndra for that suggestion. As she was drifting off to sleep last night, and I was giggling after getting this thing uploaded, she blurts out "You should have a shirt on that says I'm With Douche". Hahahahahahhahahhaha. She is so funny. Fucking racist douche.
Are you a dog person?
Are you a dog person?
Loretta, Lucy, and Sammy (in the background). Being a dog person is one of those hard-to-explain things like being a Harley person...if I have to explain, you won't understand (the saying found on some Harley shirts). You either are one or you are not one...A or B...black or white...an objective choice...no gray area. My daugher Jenifer and I reside (separately) with dogs that are spoiled to say the least. It's not that the pets always get their way, certainly not in my household. But they do live pristine, laid back, easy, mostly indoor lives. Jenifer's one canine indulgence (so far) is a Beagle named Sierra. This fortunate pooch, being an only "child", is a sweet dog who has lived a life of loving patronization and tolerance. Sierra is very protective of her digs and lets everyone know about it (a barker), despite long-time usage of anti-barking collar electronics. She is also a "sleep in the owner's bed" dog...and, at times, rendering her keepers perplexed as to where the terd in the sheets came from! Jenifer does realize that the errant poops are from Sierra, although she believes that these little morning surprizes are inadvertent, ie, fell out of the dog's ass by mistake while asleep. All this after a few years of peeing and barfing on the bed as a puppy, an occasional nocturnal fecal indiscretion as an adult dog is acceptable. Afterall, Beagles are soooo cute! And Sierra is no exception...under-the-sheet terds and all. Our dogs? Sparky the Dauschund, Lucy the Boxer, and Sammy the Greyhound. They all have their own issues as well. The list is long, but here are some highlights. Sparky is 10 years old. As a puppy, he lived a solitary life during the day while we were at work (much like Jen's Sierra does now), as we hadn't adopted the other two yet. During that time, our not-so-miniature Dauschund ate the door frame in one of our bathrooms and tore up the linoleum in another. Lucy is 7 years old. Early on, she escaped the house a few times and was a cloud of dust down the street and around the neighborhood...the only capture method: drive the car after her and open the door, she jumps right in. Sammy is 5 years old. He has managed to tear and few chunks out of his thin skin, one incident involving his toe required minor surgery. Sparky still manages to sneek in an indoor pee pee once in a while (usually found later as a yellow stain in the carpet next to some other vertical structure). Lucy tried to eat a wasp causing her rather large boxer jowls to swell up and out resembling huge wing-like structures (a brief treatment of benedryl remedied that). And Sammy's long tail has destroyed a few coffee table nic nacs and removed plaster from the walls during moments of exhuberance. So, being a dog person does entail a lot more than just a love of the furry domestic creatures. It takes a lot of work, a lot of tolerance, and lot of having the ability to accept the love they have to offer. That last characteristic is the most important. One must appreciate all that dogs have to offer: unqualified devotion, love, and companionship. They solicit attention from us at all times. Why? Because that is the way we have raised them. Despite my barking back at them when they bug us, I am still amazed at how this most popular domesticated animal requires so little. They only require your love in return...not being tied to a stake in the backyard and sleeping in an indentation in the dirt. Do our dogs realize how lucky they are? I haven't quite decided whether or not dogs actually know the difference. Probably. Now if I could just get one of them to open the fridge and bring me a beer...that would be a truly symbiotic relationship!

sleeps with dogs t shirt
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