Lifetime Premium Member
Date registered: Aug 2002
Vehicle: 1967 250SE, 1969 280SE Cab., 2017 C300 Coupe 4Matic
Mentioned: 6 Post(s)
Quoted: 1768 Post(s)
The things I hate about being a Werewolf...
The shedding for one. I mean damn, it is relentless during that certain moon cycle. It gets on the bed, the sofas, the toilet seat, and even the bidet. And let me be the first to tell you that drool gets old in a hurry. The ludicrous incisors that protrude always keep the gums exposed and dripping. The oriental rug in the den is always getting sent to New York for cleaning. I even went so far as to see an orthodontist once at night, but he declined to help. Fucker. I now simply keep a bib on if I am in the house. I allow no pictures during that period.
That coarse coat isn't all it's cracked up to be. It won't vacuum up and frankly the hairs are not the smoothest in the world. And yes, before you ask, I have tried all the fancy salon conditioners. You can't comb it either, and to be honest it isn't the thickest stuff around either. I've used Rogaine and seen a minimal improvement, but considering the time frame of conversion I really can't keep it up consistently enough to justify the price and use. Sucks to be me, eh? Despite all my bitching about the fur I must say I am lucky to possess a tri-coat over the typical and rather plebeian duo-coat. Score one for me!
Now the claws are a whole other matter. They come straight from the conversion, sharp as hell. I scratch everything around irregardless. If I'm inside, I have learned to clip the suckers right off the bat. But, forget about the car door, the steering wheel, or even a door knob. BTW, contrary to urban legend you do retain your thumbs. Ha! Take that Hollywoooooohood. I can't hug the Davey or get near him, and quite frankly he doesn't find it very sexy. Sometimes he gets so low as to say I smell like wet dog. That hurts.
Now I haven't even touched on the intrinsic reactions and traits while under the big sky cheese have I? Well that smell thing is quite simply on the mother fucker. I can smell a rabbit two city blocks away. And if someone is cooking a roast, stew, or cobbler, I mean it is just over powering. I can actually piss myself. Really. Don't tell anyone. My patience is all eaten up as well, so before I know it I am running and jumping over anything in the way just to get to the incredible source of such outrageous sniffery. Wow. I drool just thinking about it. Damn. Anyway, my temper sparks a nasty tiff as well. One time some drunken fool wanted to fight in an alley behind an old pub. He wouldn't leave me alone, even got his friends to throw some empty and full Schlitz Malt Liquor cans at me. Well I reached out to simply knock him off his feet and his head snaps off. I tell myself it must have been loose to begin with, what with teasing me like that. And since I did something so deplorable I figured I might as well go with it and throw the drippy thing at his thug friends. They ran. My tail sat a little higher that night after that. Oh yeah, and doors are hell on tails. Trust me.
Well that is about it for now. Yes I have talked to heir bitchy dude about this cycle of pain, and yes South Park does have Satan nailed. He is gay too. He just can't help being the consummate contrarian. He is constantly disappointed in me, but that is for another snippet.
Last edited by Shane; 05-07-2009 at 11:23 PM.