Lola and Tucker have this nightly ritual where they enjoy a bowl of seedless green grapes and a glass of skim milk — she peels a grape and feeds it to the little fucker, then tips her glass at an angle so he can wash it down with a few laps of  moo juice – while they watch Nancy Grace and Larry King.

So last night I stop by for a few minutes and they’ve just finished enjoying their snacks. Tucker is all siting up in the crook of her arm like he always does and after a minute or so, he starts hiccuping.

“Has mommy’s baby got the ol’ hiccups?” Lola coos in an annoying baby talk voice that instantly sets my nerves on edge.

Tucker looks up at her with his adorable lil face for a few seconds before his lower jaw suddenly unhinges and what appears to be a gigantic turd oozes from his throat like some crazy ass canine parody of the Play-Doh Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop and lands squarely on the front of Lola’s freshly laundered jammies.

Now being a sympathy vomiter, I did the only thing I could do: I pulled my shirt over my head and prayed for it to go away.

“Oh fuck!” she exclaimed. “Get that goddamn shirt off your head and go grab me some paper towel!”

Which I did.

But not before documenting the moment for my faithful readers. (Never doubt how much I love my public.) Enjoy!

(Bonus points if you can spot what appears to be a noodle!)

With Tristan away at his folks, I spent the day with Lola and Tucker.

We watched MARLEY AND ME. Lola said that if Owen Wilson had glasses he would look like Tristan. Since she has never met Tristan and he bears a more than passing resemblence to the Verizon guy, this struck me as odd.

Lola served ham sammitches and peanut butter cups for lunch. It was…different

Tucker was really happy to see me.

Tristan called when he got home and I gave him head.

It was a nice Easter.

The End.

It had been a while, but I issued the decree and you folks responded in astounding numbers. Before we jump right in, let me state for the record, that Lola Mancuso is not a licensed professional, any advice she dispenses should be considered considered questionable at best, and her views are just those…her views and no one else’s. As anyone who knows her will tell you, she’s really just a crazy old lady in khaki stretch pants, a Wonder Woman t-shirt, and a pair of highly polished Stride-Rite walking shoes. Frankly, I’d put more stock in the rantings of the local crack whore begging for change outside the Kroger — but hey, that’s me. And yet, strangely, even though all of that is common knowledge you people still wrote in seeking the answers to the nagging questions in your lives. It takes all kinds I guess. So that said, let’s see who Mama’s “helping” today…

Dear Lola – Most of the women I know have had a hysterectomy. I am 47 and going through the change. What was it like for you? Did you have hot flashes, moodiness, lack of sex drive, etc? Help a bitch out!

Lurker

Hot flashes! I’m 76 and I still get them! Hang in there and they’ll go away sooner or later. Old Boy always said I was moody but I blame his stupid ass — oh! I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he pissed me off. And I always had the lack of sex drive — I think I went through the change in my 20s because I was always dry down there and really that was a blessing because I didn’t want none of that shit anyway.

Dear Lola – Back in the day, my husband and I enjoyed a pretty experimental sex life and amassed a library of sex trapes to document the fun we had. When dvd became popular, my husband transferred all our tapes to dvd. Recently he loaned a friend and his wife some dvd’s and when they returned them I saw that 2 of them were from our sex tape collection. My husband thinks he did nothing wrong but I feel like my trust was violated. Who do you think is right?

Signed, Reluctant Movie Star

Your trust ought to have been violated — anyone stupid enough to to put their sex on a tape ought to have her goddamn head examined. Gawd. I mean you absolutely have to be an idiot to put your sex on a tape. Are you that dumb that you can’t remember that nasty shit a week later? Goddamn. I can’t imagine putting that shit on a tape and then sending me a question admitting to it! Where did these people learn about sex because they are stupid as hell. That’s all people think about is sex, sex, sex. Good God. What do they get from watching themselves humping it? Christ.

Dear Lola – I own a tiny little Chihuahua that barks at everyone and bites anybody who tries to pet him. When I feed him I have to stay out of the room until he is done eating or he will growl and snap at me. I can’t have company anymore because he is the master of the house and tries to bite strangers. If I stay away overnight he will destroy the house as punishment. My boyfriend hates him and wants me to put him to sleep but I love the little fart. 

Signed, Lonely Bob in Louisville.

If you’d take that little fella and love him, you’d see a change. There’s a reason that little guy is acting like that. You two need to stop playing with your peckers and start playing with the dog and show him some love. Has that boyfriend been mean to him? I thought the queers liked them little dogs? They’re always carrying them around and putting diamonds and shit on them on the tv. Dump your boyfriend and keep your dog. Dick never did nothing for nobody.

Hi Dirk, could you ask Lola what she thinks of OJ Simpson latest run in with the law and did he deserve to go to jail or was this pay back for murdering Nicole and Ron?

From Ian

He got just what he deserved — it was just a long time coming and I hope he never sees the light of day. It says in my little papers that he is scared to death in the pen and that he confessed to killing his wife and that poor Goldman kid to some inmate when he was in jail before and I believe that shit — the guilty always crow about it when they get off scott free. Can’t help themselves. Dumbasses.

Dear Lola – I was feeling horny and sent my boyfriend a text message that said CUM SUCK MY COCK. The only problem is that when I went to send it,  I actually sent it to everyone in my directory including my parents, both of whom are proficient texters. So far they’ve said nothing but I can tell they want to from the looks I’ve been getting from them. Should I bring it up and try to explain it away as a joke? Should I let it go? They know I’m gay because I told them 10 years ago when I graduated college but they refuse to accept it.

Sincerely yours, The Lame Sexter

You are one brilliant child. You need to watch where you put your fingers on the computer. What an idiot wanting his dick sucked. What good does that do? I would love to know what sucking a dick does for a man. Can someone explain that to me? It turns your teeth brown and gives you bad breath and then everyone knows what you’ve had between your lips because it makes your lips like a bow. You’ve seen those fairies prancing around with them little puckered mouths? That’s from sucking dick. It makes their mouth all round and ready for it all the time. Jesus Christ — what kind of people read that blot of yours?

Lola – I work for a group of attorneys.  There is one woman in the firm who several of us refer to as “Satan.”  I don’t work directly with her, but at one point she was my supervisor.  Without going into the gory details, she treated my like dirt and I actually quit once (only to be lured back and moved out of her department).  I’m very happy where I’m working now, and rarely have to cross her path.  She was recently demoted, and, though I know the professional thing would be to take it in stride, I sometimes find myself giggling in glee when she walks by my office.  I’ve never been happier than I’ve been the last couple weeks, and I sometimes break out singing “Ding Dong The Witch is Dead” for no apparent reason (well, it’s apparent to me!). My question is this:  Should I try to act with some sense of decorum and work hard to behave as a professional, or should I go with this euphoria and maybe even make plans to approach her and laugh in her face?
 
Signed, The Cheshire Cat

I think you should keep your mouth shut and do like you’re doing and then you’ll get the last laugh. She was a damn turd to people and look what it got her — now she’s had to come to her milk and reap what she sowed. I’m all for rubbing somebody’s face in shit when they screw up, but in this economy you better be glad you got a job and not go out of your way to fuck it up. Plus, if she’s a lawyer she’d know all kinds of tricks to get that girl fired. I watch that Glenn Close show and let me tell you, that woman is a BITCH. I wouldn’t cross that Patti  if you paid me. She fucking scares me ’cause she ain’t just a pissy woman — she’s a pissy woman who knows about law tricks and that kind of shit can ruin you. She don’t mess around on that show. Tell that girl to shut up and be happy on the inside.

Dear Lola – My husband is 43 and recently underwent a minor heart procedure. Ever since that he has expressed an interest in trying things that I think range from weird to just plain out of the question (two if his more recent fantasies that I indulged were letting him rub peanut butter on my vagina then licking it off  and squeezing my breasts together so he could fuck them). Is this normal behavior after having a life threatening scare? Should I continue to indulge this behavior or should I tell him enough’s enough?

Sincerely yours, Concerned Wife

They did something to that guy — you better check with your doctor. And you better make sure you ain’t got salmonella in your business. God. That man ain’t normal — who ever heard of putting their dick between two tits and rubbing it back and forth? Just think where his ass is — is it in her face? And then he’s either going to shoot it on her chin or on her feet if he’s even got anything in that nasty ol’ thing. Lord Jesus. Hell, he could crush her sitting on her like that! There’s just a ton of shit that could go wrong. And if she lets him do that shit she needs to see a brain doctor. Such goddamn questions.

Dear Lola – We are faithful readers of Dirk’s blog and HUGE fans of yours so and have agreed to abide by your call on a very important decision:  My girlfriend wants to paint our bedroom custard yellow and I want to paint it blue. What do you think?

Signed, Indecisive

Custard yellow — yuck. Why doesn’t she just paint it cum yellow? Hell, get that tittie fucker to come over and they can just spray the walls with that shit and she won’t have to paint at all. Paint it blue!

And so endeth part 1 of this edition of Dear Lola. You guys sent in a fucking boatload of questions and I am working on transcribing her answers for the remainder (she dictates her answers into a tape recorder). In the meantime, if you have a burning and/or itching question  requiring a slightly senile widow’s “wisdom” shoot  it to dirk.mancuso@gmail.com and include DEAR LOLA in the subject line. 

Just the facts, ma’am:

Dinner was at noon.

As always, I was careful to make sure my food didn’t touch.

Oh look — a lovely bev-Uh-rah-jay to take the edge off when a certain someone began turning up the “I keep waiting for this one here to give me a grandbaby” heat.  I don’t know who she was trying to fool — everyone at that table knows I’m a cocksucker from way back.

Chocolate pie for dessert.  I passed (I don’t like chocolate).

There were 6 dogs in attendance.

But only one came in geisha attire…

…then switched into ballerina gear…

…before making a lovely poo for my camera.  (Thank you, Willow!)

And that was my Turkey Day — how was yours?

What’s on my mind this Monday morning?  I’m glad you asked…

~ Beyonce as Wonder Woman.  Seriously, Warner Brothers — you fire Joss Whedon from the project and then entertain this idea? With that type of forward (i.e., retarded) thinking, may I suggest Stephen Hawking as Steve Trevor and Harvey Fierstein as Queen Hippolyta?  And of course, you’ll want to have Akiva Goldsman write and Joel Schumacher direct to make the trainwreck complete.

~ Stephen Rader brought my attention to the new WATCHMEN trailer. Sweet. Fetal. Jesus. This is going to rock.  And as always, if you haven’t read the graphic novel — what the fuck are you waiting for?

~ I’m sure it’s just me, but what is it about Barack Obama that has everyone spontaneously orgasming every time his name is mentioned?  I just don’t get it.  And might I suggest we let him get his presidential feet wet before we declare him the new Messiah?

~ Wanda Sykes is gay?  Why didn’t anyone send me the memo?

~ How awesome was the TOP CHEF season premiere?  I love, love, LOVE me some Tom Colicchio and Padma Lakshmi.  (And I’m mad crushin’ on contestant Danny.)

~ Since heterosexual marriage is so sacred, how about we pass a law making it illegal to get a divorce?  You know, to keep it sacred and prevent the institution from getting all sullied and such.

~ I hate that in-touch-with-his-inner-teenage-girl Terence and Sarah went home on last night’s AMAZING RACE.  I really wanted to see eyelidless Tina and whipping boy Ken take a powder.

~ Serena van der Woodsen.  Sorry — I just love saying that name.

~ How adorable is Tucker?

~ Limited edition Jello brand Classic Turtle pudding fucking rocks.

Well, that’s about it.  (Yeah, I know — I’m just all kinds of deep and shit.)

So, what’s on your minds today…?

Somebody was looking a wee bit scroungy after the holidays…

…so it was off to the groomers this wintry morning. Thank God he is mad crushing on the super adorable Ms. Allison (think Rachel Bilson from THE OC) who does his doo. The second he saw her, I was forgotten.

Sighhhhhhhh. It’s always so hard when your little one takes those first steps of independence.

Tune in this afternoon for the after pic…

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

“I’m too sexy for my neck-kerchief, too sexy for my neck-kerchief, too sexy by far” Edit:

Well, he’s ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ack!

And looking uber-adorable, if I do say so myself. Miss Allison has such a way with him. (And come clean, Fred Jones of Scooby Doo fame aside, when’s the last time you saw gay neckwear worn with such panache?)

Hello, I’m Dirk Mancuso and these are the headlines at this hour:

~ “My” dog is a murderer. When he failed to heed my calls to get in the house yesterday morning, I was forced to trek around the back of the garage and found myself privy to a scene of canine grand guignol: Tucker’s face smeared in blood and a fur covered something dangling from his mouth. Turns out Tucker went all fucking Cujo on a rabbit, killing the poor little thing. Disgusted? Repulsed? Pissed? You have no idea. I know it will pass in a week or so, but as of this writing I find myself unable to look at or pet him. I simply have no tolerance for killing — and I don’t care that he’s “just a dog, and a fucking puppy at that” as Mama M shrieked at me when I wouldn’t have anything to do with Old Yeller. I guess I’m just a pansy pacifist but I refuse to give him a walk because he doesn’t know any better.

~ Movie one sheet arouses semi-interest in gay blogger. I know I am in the minority in regards to BATMAN BEGINS (most everyone I know thinks it was brilliant, but I fell asleep…all 3 times I tried to watch it. Sorry, Stephen), so while I find the poster for the upcoming THE DARK KNIGHT to be amazing, I have little hope that with the same creative team involved it will be any better than their first effort (“and then we’ll show how he came up with the bat mobile and the bat belt and the bat mask and the bat tivo…”). At least Maggie Gyllenhall is replacing Katatonic Holmes as Asst. D.A. Rachel Dawes.

~ “I just wanted to know what everyone was talking about,” explains horrified faggot. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I just had to see what all the “2 Girls, 1 Cup” fuss was about. (And if you haven’t a clue what I’m referring to, please be advised NOT to google it anywhere near your place of employment. Or on a full stomach…)

~ Inclement weather puts kibosh on highly anticapted date — hard-on enters Day 7. And yes, I am fully aware that many of you are dying to know if I partook of the knob gobbling (or got my own polished), but a winter weather alert had Coffee Guy texting me with the suggestion we reschedule until Friday night when a cold but clear forecast was in the cards and I wouldn’t have to rush off due to road conditions and work the next day. Ever the resourceful fella, I spent most of the evening coming up with witty but subtle double entendres that would give him a window to respond in kind if he was up for a little somethin’ somethin’. Yeah, I’m pathetic.

More on these stories as they develop…

A woman was walking down the street when she saw a boy playing with 3 puppies. She stopped and asked their names.

“Thunder, Lightning, and Liberace,” the boy replied.

“Those are unusual names,” the woman remarked. “How did you decide on those?”

“Well, Thunder is the loudest,” the boy replied, “and Lightning is the fastest.”

“And Liberace?” the woman asked.

“Oh — he’s the peein’-ist.’

…and as Martha would say, that’s a good thing.

Whilst walking my boy, Tucker — and he is rapidly becoming MY boy as his preference for me over Mama M has become undeniable — I was privy to one of the most awe-inspiring calls of nature ever witnessed. And thanks to the magic of the cell phone, you can experience it, too.

After a nearly 30 minute walk this morning, I noticed a slight tensing in Tucker’s hindquarters. Time to pinch a stink pickle. No big…we all have to park our breakfast.

But today was different. Today is was as though Tucker’s sphincter was powered by NASA. One second, the lil fella was crouching and the next…colon bowlin’ of epic proportions literally shot out as though jet propelled. Witness:

Pay special attention to what is fast becoming his signature — the cairn terrier noose opener. It doesn’t double up after expulsion, folks…it pops out like that:

Now lest you think this is mere exaggeration on my part, allow me to provide visual evidence as to the size of the shit rocket my extraordinary pupper expelled in under 7 seconds:

Admit it, people — for a 12 pound dog, the little fucker can release some serious chocolate hostages.