Wednesday, September 1, 2004
Volume 1: The P-Dog's First Born: Cheese Dog.
In this, debut edition of Prairie Dogs "Dryhump" I am going to share my thoughts on one of the true joys of this Earth. Cheese. Cheese? Yes cheese. To start, I will give you some background. I like cheese. No, I love cheese. And not just as a friend. Let me put it this way, when I get home from a long day at work, there is nothing I would rather do then sit on the couch and eat a whole brick of cheese. You read that correctly ‘A whole brick of cheese.’ I will just sit there and munch away. Some nights I will go through 3, or 4, bricks of cheese. I will sit on the couch in front of the T.V. wearing nothing but my underwear with all the lights off and go through several bricks of cheese while softly humming ‘Comfortably Numb’ to myself. I like cheddar cheese. I don’t think it is necessarily my favorite kind of cheese but it is probably the cheese I seem to eat most often. Having said that, I also enjoy Swiss cheese, mozzarella cheese, and havarti cheese, just to name a few. Cheese deserves more praise and should not be taken for granted because if there were no cheese, well, then I would have nothing to do on the weekends. No cheese equals sadness for the Prairie Dog. Is there a Cheese God? You know, a God of Cheese? I doubt it. There should be though, at least that’s my opinion (and my opinion is really the only one I give a shit about anyway).
Now on one occasion I was sitting on the couch in my sweaty thong underwear watching all the sister fuckers and other assorted freaks on Jerry Springer and I was just finishing my second brick of cheese. (Swiss cheese on this day, just FYI) Now I notice the sad fact that aside from several crumbs that have collected in and around my unusually deep belly button, there is no more cheese in the house. Panic does not set in. Oh who am I kidding I was freaking out like Michael Jackson in a Chucky Cheese restaurant. But then I settled down and realized that if I run out of cheese and I want more cheese I can get more cheese. All I need to do is brush the crumbs off my fuzzy belly, put on some clothes and go to the store to buy more cheese. Well I sure do need more cheese, because I only finished my second brick and as you know I go through 4 or 5 solid bricks of cheese in one sitting. So anyways, (or as 40-something women say “Any-who”) I get to the store and see all the cheese. So much cheese that I am not shy in sharing with you that all this cheese surrounding me did indeed give me quite the boner. So I used up the rest of my limit on my Visa card and stocked up on all this glorious cheese. Well I raced straight home and finished my night sitting on the couch wearing nothing but a grin and a raging hard-on and ate all the fucking cheese I could handle. Cheese in one hand, cock in the other. I would be lying to you if I said that the two never touched.
Did you know that on a good night I can go through six or seven (sometimes eight) bricks of cheese? Now where does cheese come from? Cows. People say cheese comes from cows. Now don’t be silly, it doesn’t come straight from a cow like it craps cheese from its cow ass. That would be funny though! I just realized that if a cow pooped cheese we could eat it and say, “Damn, that is some shitty cheese!” I’m kidding of course. Cheese is a dairy product, which means it has milk. Milk comes from cows. We need milk to make cheese. Lets give cows the respect they deserve as they are the source of cheese. Please join me in this short ‘prayer’ to ‘The Cow’. Thank you, Cow. Thanks Cow for all the cheese. I like cheese and I like Cow. Cow, you are my friend. Seriously, you fucking rock. Cow, you kick ass! Cow, you and the stuff you do are cool (…and stuff).
Imagine with me a world without cheese. This would be a scary hell! Picture it with me. If there were no cheese, pizza would not be the same. I’m sorry but what kind of pizza has no cheese? FREAK Pizza that’s what! Who wants freak pizza? Not me! How about a cheeseburger? There would be no such thing as a cheeseburger! And what about cheese sticks? What about them? What the FUCK about them?!? How can you have cheese sticks without cheese? You can’t! You can’t have cheese sticks without cheese! They would just be …sticks! You can’t eat sticks. Who wants to eat that shit? Sticks! They would just be boring, deep-fried, sticks! Who the fuck would want to eat that? I’ll tell you who, the Nazis! Stinkin’ frickin’ Nazis! (Maybe the queers too, who knows) I think I made my point we need cheese. Have I mentioned I can go through 19 or 20 bricks of cheese in a day?
The word ‘cheese’ is used many ways. For instance, sometimes if someone has runny poop in their pants they might say, “I cheesed my pants.” If someone is really angry they might say “I’m really cheesed right now!” If a movie is really lame, people call it ‘cheesy’. Some people call their toe-jam ‘cheese’. No, really some people do. Stupid people yes, but many a man has said “I’ve got lots of cheese in my toes.” And of course when someone floats an air biscuit they say he “cut the cheese”. This really upsets me to hear the word used in all these ways. It’s disrespectful. Diarrhea, anger, bad movies, toe-jam, and stinky farts. These are all negative. Cheese deserves better. Everyone should go and hug your cheese. Love your cheese. Hump some havarti, fuck some feta! Paint your dick with cheese-whiz! Love your cheese because cheese loves you! (Unless you’re a motherfucking nazi!) With all the bad ways cheese is used in our language, let me leave you with a final thought. When you are with family and loved ones and someone wants to take a picture what does everyone say? Everybody says ‘CHEESE!’ Then what happens? That’s right. Everyone smiles. Cheese makes us smile. Cheese makes us smile. Smile doesn’t make us cheese (I don’t know what that last sentence means, forgive me, its late.) Lets join together and all say ‘Cheese’. Then we will smile and live in peace. I love cheese. Some nights I can go through 27, 36, or 102 bricks of cheese. Sure it affects my bowels, but I don’t give a crap. Get it? I don’t give a crap? Sorry that is a cheesy joke. But I thought it was Gouda.
Prairie Dog
Commentary: