RHOBH Recuperation from Shark Tank (& Wine) Hangover

Too much Shark Tank? Or wine?

My Thanksgiving weekend with the family has ended. We had a feast every night for three days, and the last one was a real ding-dong doozie. My family drank 9 bottles of wine, and the next day our tombstones were resting in the front yard. I am still dehydrated, tired and bloated as fuck from eating a large pizza to cure my hangover. I am thankful to be back home and I really need a night of recuperation, complete personal time. Since my family watched Shark Tank for a total of 15 hours over Thanksgiving weekend, I need of some light entertainment. Shark Tank is a great show but the music gets me too tense. I find myself hiding behind the couch cushions anticipating Mr. Wonderful assassinating someone’s dreams by calling them a greedy pig and telling them to get the hell out of his sight. I put on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills because I guess a bunch of grown ass women screaming in each other’s faces and crying over a broken nail relaxes me.

We are bursting with Shark Tank potential

I watch RHOBH because of the little dogs, these women have about 4 each, and they are cute little fluffiness, the only kind of dogs I like. My neighbors have pit bulls, which are fucking terrifying. They look like the type of dogs that roam around junkyards and have spiked collars. I know, “Pit bulls aren’t bad dogs!” screams every person who has a pit bull (before that pit bull attacks someone.) The thing is, I am afraid of dogs, and dogs smell fear, so they know I am the easiest one to pick off and pit bulls are the most effective at picking off. When I walk into a room with a dog, I am the first person the dog goes over to, sniffs my lady parts as I try and shield it as best I can with my hands. I laugh from the awkwardness but in my mind I am thinking, “this dog is going to kill me, and he is starting at my vagina.”

Dog lovers are a special kind of people. They don’t seem to notice how dogs smell, or that male dogs have a slimy penis that shoots out as they look you in the eyes with their tongue hanging out. Owning a dog would be a good appetite suppressant for me though. One year I worked at a distribution center and one of my friends was an older hippie lady. We ate lunch in the employee lounge and she always wanted to watch Animal Planet. I probably lost ten pounds that summer because I can’t manage to get a bite down while I am watching a hairy ass gorilla scratching its exploding butthole on TV.

I like my dogs to be self-cleaning and defecate in a litter box, or Yorkshire terriers. I have a soft spot for those little fur balls. My mom’s dog is a 12 year old Jack Russell.  For the past 4 days I had to follow my 1 year old son around screaming, “Nooooooo!” as he toddled to her dog repeatedly shouting, “Dog! Dog!” Jack has a life littered with trauma; he was attacked by a coyote, ran over by a house boat, almost drowned when he fell through an icy pond, and dognapped for over a month (this was the darkest time of my mom’s life, and then one day he was tied to the door knob. She must have been doing some crazy visualizing.)

The face of a dog who can't be trifled with

The dognappers probably returned Jack because he is such a little shit, and my mom enables his shit behavior. Jack flips his dog bowl over and spills his food across the kitchen floor. We think it is because he would rather have prime rib, but for fucks sake, he is a dog! When Jack gets his psycho growl and begins barking at my little defenseless baby, my mom looks at me and says, “Jack has arthritis, and the babies hurt him, so keep them away.” This would be fine if Jack didn’t follow the kids around anticipating the cookies, crackers and cheese that fall from their little baby hands.

I am glad to be home and spared from the duty of keeping my kids away from my mom’s dog. I am the master of my domain, and can spend the next couple weeks recuperating from Thanksgiving by watching awful TV. By the time Christmas rolls around I will be able to do it all again, as long as I have not been eaten by my neighbors pit bull first. My mom and I will stay in communication daily with our brilliant ideas for Shark Tank (keep your eyes peeled for ice cream croutons). We are modern day Thomas Edison, thinking up crap that can be made in China for cheap. No matter what we think up, we know Daymond is the perfect shark for us!

Healing