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…regularly. Every once in awhile, a fellow dog owner strikes up a conversation with me about Fabulous. It almost always begins the same exact way.

Stranger: What’s her name?

Me: Mr. Fabulous.

Stranger: It’s a boy?

Me: Nope. She’s a girl named Mr. Fabulous.

Stranger: What’d you do that for?

Me: I had the name before I had the dog; it’s a nod to “The Blues Brothers.” I said if I ever got a dog that I was going to name it Mr. Fabulous. When I ended up getting a girl, I figured it didn’t really matter what her name was, so I kept it.

Stranger: Oh.

Nine times out of ten, the conversation usually stops here. This morning, however, a woman and her male mutt Tucker approached us, and instead of ending the conversation there she added this little jab.

Woman: Oh, Mr. Fabulous… you’re so gay.

I probably would have let it go, but when I turned my head towards her I noticed that Tucker was busy humping another male dog from behind. The words were out of my mouth before I even realized it.

Me: Yeah, lady… my dog’s gay.

She puffed up and yelled at Tucker; I smiled, put Fabulous’ leash on, and left.




About to hit up some rummage sales,


…last Friday for a few hours. Admittedly, most of the time, I looked like this:

But I did get to hang out (albeit briefly) with my Uncle John and Aunt Teri.

That made it worth the trip.

Another con down,



Learn more about BrewDog’s The End of History here.

I’d drink beer out of a dead squirrel… or human,


…that beat Mr. Fabulous?

Yeah… not so much anymore.

Fab for the win,


…for “Pala Tute” right here:

Still wearing purple,


…Costa Rica Campeón del Valle!

And then there was one,


and I don’t need to edit any video to prove it.

So let me get this straight, Breitbart: The media misconstrued your misleading video? Huh. Imagine that.

I’ve said it before,



One of the things he’s managed to save is this drawing of Snake Plissken from “Escape from New York.”

I drew that picture for him more than twenty-five years ago. I didn’t even know it existed until he emailed it to me yesterday.

I know I’m biased, but I’m pretty sure you can see the beginnings of a genius in the making here. The proof? I put nipples on Snake; nipples are a clear sign of brilliance. That, and I signed my name “Justin the Creep” which proves I enjoyed pseudonyms even at a young age.

Thanks for the walk down memory lane, John!

The Creep,


…here’s some sweet revenge.

Thanks to Latta for sending it along.

Legalized extortion,


Old Poop!