Dozers & Demons

As has previously happened on numerous occasions, I found myself in public alone laughing like a maniac. Although some people walking past shot me looks of pity or disapproval, a few started laughing at me alongside me.

I was recalling two recent snippets of conversation had with different people.

A variation of the first conversation...

“Sweet jeesus. Is his collar turned up? Why. Is he. So 80s? Sometimes, I just don’t understand.”
“That’s okay. So-and-so carries a fanny pack.”
“What? No!”
“I swear to God. Now don’t mention that sh*t to anyone. When I want to stop thinking about him, I picture the fanny pack.”
“No kidding.”
“Shut up.”
“You do understand that the fanny pack will be a third party to your relationship, eh?”
“Stop it.”
“No, seriously. It’s coming with you to dinner. And to the movies. And maybe even when you travel together.”
“Seriously. That’s not funny.”
“Give the fanny pack a name. Endear it to you, early on in the relationship.”
“Get out of my apartment.”

The second conversation went a little like…

“Do you think maybe he took something?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because while I was in his washroom, I went through his stuff.”
“You whaaaaaaaaaaat?”
“To make sure he doesn’t have some kind of a weird disease.”
“LOLOLOLOListen f*cker, you wouldn’t even know what to look for! Jeesus, I can picture you walking out of the washroom with a thing of antibiotics being all smug and shit and declaring ‘And for what is this, prey tell?’ and he’d be all ‘my toe infection’. You don’t have a CLUE what difratel, zythronol, asfixitall, or fu*krectonal or I-Don’t-Know xanafrunu are! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”
“I don't really know.”
“Wow. So, how would you have explained yourself had he walked in and found you rummaging through his stuff?”
“I planned to knock it all over and make it look like an accident. He’d have never known.”
“WOW. WOW. WOW.”

And as an aside, I’d like you to know that as a child, I ached that a real live Dozer would somehow magically appear and become my friend. No Dozer ever showed up at my front door, and so in homage to the idiot child I was, here is a photo of a Dozer:


To provide you with a real sense of show ‘n tell, I’d like you to also know that this photo scares the sh*t out of me. If I came home and found my child doing this, I would kill it and then rip out my ovaries. And by kill it and rip out my ovaries, I mean exorcise the demon within: