Thursday, August 23, 2007
Chingy! can't chase the Cat(skills)
Last weekend I went camping in the Catskills with a bunch of other grad students. Nothing remarkable happened besides getting drunk, eating smores, and freezing my ass off because I only brought one pathetic, velvet, not-warm hoodie procured for $7 at some cheap ho-clothes store on 125th St. with me and it was like 40 degrees at night. Apart from nearly getting evicted from the state park we were staying in due to "rowdiness after quiet hours," the only other thing we did was go for a hike.
Since I had the dogs with me, I figured Caesar would love it and Chingy! could definitely use the exercise. I went with the group going on the "easy" hike (7 miles), because I figured that Chingy! would be stretched to his physical limits by a trip that long, and the "challenging" hike was 14 miles and involved free-climbing. As it turned out, "easy" meant we made it through two miles of scrambling up and down steep, rocky hillsides before J-Sexy wanted to turn back to resume beer drinking. After one look at Chingy!, I knew that we had to go back too. He was exhausted, with his sides heaving in and out like some sort of corpulent, hyperspasmotic accordion bellows, his tongue lolling out of his squashy little snaggletoothed mouth, and his breath coming in sickening, phlegmy gusts of foulness. We moved to climb back up the rock wall we had just descended, and I thought Chingy! was going to die. These "stairs" were so precipitous that I felt like Frodo scaling the mountainous walls of Mordor to reach the dread pass of Cirith Ungol. I tried to motivate Chingy! with some LOTR dialogue ("up, up, up the stairs we go, Precious...until we reach...the tunnel"), but he paid me no heed. He simply stared at me insolently and resentfully, and I could almost hear him thinking withering "CHONGAY CHONG!" thoughts about my forcing him to endure such an arduous journey. When we got to the top of the neverending rock stairs and started venturing back downhill, one of the girls with us felt so sorry for Chingy! that she volunteered to CARRY HIS FAT ASS back down. I told her, "I wouldn't. He's so fucking heavy, I swear mercury flows through his veins."
"He's so tired, I just have to," she insisted. She picked him up, and I defy you to contradict that he may be the most revoltingly pathetic creature on God's green earth:
Besides stinking, weight problems, astronomical vet bills, shitting, consuming shit, destroying stuff, regarding their owners haughtily, and shedding copiously, what the hell are Pugs good for? Because I know a lot of things they're useless at, and backpacking is one of them. Chingy!'s good samaritan only lasted about 100 feet before she had to put his burdensome ass back down, and he proceeded to be a pain in the ass the rest of the way. He stopped to sniff everything, tried to go on sit-down strike TWICE, attempted to take a nap, shook off his leash, and generally tried to impede my efforts to walk him down the trail in every way possible. Then again, I'm not much of a hiker either, as I'm always stopping to smoke and drink beer, and I spent most of my time on this trip trashing what qualifies as a mountain on the East Coast and sneering at the lack of evergreen trees rather than soaking in the magnificence of the Appalachian wilderness.
Even though I was disappointed that Chingy! didn't experience rapid weight loss from his hiking ordeal, I was pleased to get back to the campsite and get down to business with J-Sexy doing what we do best (drink some brew dogs and eat some meat). I contribute a big"fuck that" to traipsing soberly up rockslides waiting to happen as a means of enjoying the great outdoors. As soon as I got home, I ordered a pizza and watched some porn. Heineken consumption, showers, electricity, and not having to hoist my Hutt of a dog up steep rocky inclines are most definitely my jam. Life in the city is far less shitty.
CHONGAY CHONG, camping!
Since I had the dogs with me, I figured Caesar would love it and Chingy! could definitely use the exercise. I went with the group going on the "easy" hike (7 miles), because I figured that Chingy! would be stretched to his physical limits by a trip that long, and the "challenging" hike was 14 miles and involved free-climbing. As it turned out, "easy" meant we made it through two miles of scrambling up and down steep, rocky hillsides before J-Sexy wanted to turn back to resume beer drinking. After one look at Chingy!, I knew that we had to go back too. He was exhausted, with his sides heaving in and out like some sort of corpulent, hyperspasmotic accordion bellows, his tongue lolling out of his squashy little snaggletoothed mouth, and his breath coming in sickening, phlegmy gusts of foulness. We moved to climb back up the rock wall we had just descended, and I thought Chingy! was going to die. These "stairs" were so precipitous that I felt like Frodo scaling the mountainous walls of Mordor to reach the dread pass of Cirith Ungol. I tried to motivate Chingy! with some LOTR dialogue ("up, up, up the stairs we go, Precious...until we reach...the tunnel"), but he paid me no heed. He simply stared at me insolently and resentfully, and I could almost hear him thinking withering "CHONGAY CHONG!" thoughts about my forcing him to endure such an arduous journey. When we got to the top of the neverending rock stairs and started venturing back downhill, one of the girls with us felt so sorry for Chingy! that she volunteered to CARRY HIS FAT ASS back down. I told her, "I wouldn't. He's so fucking heavy, I swear mercury flows through his veins."
"He's so tired, I just have to," she insisted. She picked him up, and I defy you to contradict that he may be the most revoltingly pathetic creature on God's green earth:
Even though I was disappointed that Chingy! didn't experience rapid weight loss from his hiking ordeal, I was pleased to get back to the campsite and get down to business with J-Sexy doing what we do best (drink some brew dogs and eat some meat). I contribute a big"fuck that" to traipsing soberly up rockslides waiting to happen as a means of enjoying the great outdoors. As soon as I got home, I ordered a pizza and watched some porn. Heineken consumption, showers, electricity, and not having to hoist my Hutt of a dog up steep rocky inclines are most definitely my jam. Life in the city is far less shitty.
CHONGAY CHONG, camping!
Labels: alcoholism, CHONGAY CHONG, doggity style, exercise drama, fat fucks, intentional buffoonery, J-Sexy
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