I want to penalty-kick a pomeranian.
Just thinking about it is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. Imagine the satisfaction of taking a running start at one of those things, sitting there yipping at you, and blasting it straight into the back of the net. This could be with or without a goalie, it wouldn't matter. I'm going for the upper left corner, and celebrating with my shirt over my head afterwards.The only thing that could beat that would be if I hit the top bar and got to take another kick on the follow.
+ 
= 
"That's pretty jacked up" you say? Yep, it is. But you have to admit that those things are absolutely the most annoying creatures on the face of the earth. Not only are they yippy and loud, but they follow you around spewing small amounts of urine & feces as they go. Our neighbors in back of us have a pair of them that have apparently circumvented the biological requirement of respiration, allowing them to produce a constant stream of barksquealwhining without the punctuation of breathing. And they always have an attitude of superiority, like they're barking at you as a warning of what's going to happen if you don't leave immediately because they don't recognize your shins. They're like seagulls with a Napoleon complex.
I think it all started when I was in 5th grade and I went to Peter Sukhu's birthday party. It was a slumber party, with sleeping bags & late movies & my first exposure to cereal with marshmellows in it. (Not nearly as awesome as the commercials suggest by the way.) It was sometime very early in the morning when I was finally going to bed, feeling sick from hyperglycemia after several bowls of "breakfast". As I went to climb into my sleeping bag, I laid down directly into a puddle of pomeranian pee. Those freaking dogs actually climbed into my sleeping bag to take a leak... and that is some serious spite, my friends. Completely unprovoked, I might add. Every encounter I've ever had with the breed since then has been similarly irritating, from navigating around yipping teeth in various public places ("Fifi I said NO! Now let's put your booties back on.") to being responsible for administering medications to chows in my first job at a vet's office. (Chows are basically pomeranians on steroids in my opinion. Ever tried to make a growling 90 lb dog take a pill? Right, and what if it figures out that there's a pill in the center of that huge ball of hamburger you just threw at it and spits it out? Repeatedly? Missing limbs, my friend... that's what. There's no way that job was worth minimum wage.) Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. Pomeranians are not dogs. They're what would happen if a sewer rat bred with Paris Hilton.
So while I realize that wanting to use a pomeranian as a soccer ball isn't exactly "nice" or "normal", I really do think it would change my life. I'm sure there are some PETA-bots out there that are saying "that is SO mean, I can't believe you would do that to a helpless little animal!" I'd be willing to compromise and use a pigeon, but I'm guessing that these same people would object to that as well. So I'll tell you what -- why don't you head on over to the 36' mark, bend waaaaay over, and pick up that poor furry little critter...
(punt!)
I just got chills.
4 comments:
Um, this is the part where you penalty kick me for telling you that our neighbors are chihuahuas, not pomeranians. Big difference. HUGE. Mostly in the hair department.
They're shaved pomeranians.
i laughed very hard at your goal at first, but then i decided i agree with you. it would be very satisfying. and they're all poofy so the wind flying throug their fur would be a nice effect if you got some spin on it.
Yeah it would definitely need some topspin, I have a feeling those things would tend to float on you. Or just a nice strong grounder, that's always a safe bet. "Urf!"
Post a Comment