I’m at the store today, when I see what looks like a new flavor of Cesar dog food.

So I look a little closer, and I see that this is more than a new flavor. It’s a whole new concept.

Cesar Sunrise.

Breakfast. For dogs.

You heard me.

Now your dog can start the day with a cheddar cheese “souffle.” Or perhaps a bacon “scramble.” Or maybe just “steak and eggs.” You know, the kind of foods your dog really wants for breakfast!

God help us all.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my dogs. I really do. But I’ve been feeding them dinner for breakfast for years, and I’ve never seen them back away from the dish in disgust. And to the best of my recollection, they’ve never begged for melon.

So do dogs really need breakfast? Do they find some dishes too heavy in the morning? Would they prefer fewer carbs so they don’t get sluggish during the workday? Has dog productivity been suffering all these years and we didn’t know it?

I don’t think so. I don’t think my dogs will get more done in a day if they start with egg whites and coffee. And I don’t think they know the difference between beef and a turd, much less breakfast and dinner.

Let’s just get some perspective, here. We’re talking about animals who eat their own vomit, and would happily do so twice a day if you put in in a dish. The more repulsive the smell, the more interested they are. They roll on dead birds, they eat the crotch out of dirty underwear, they lick your filthy feet until their eyes roll back into their heads. If Kal Kan ever came up with a tampon and ass flavored kibble, they wouldn’t be able to keep in in stock.

So, no, my dogs don’t need a special food for breakfast.

I bought 12 packs.


Hello, Winners!

My name is Helen Killer, and I run the soul-killing cesspool known as Regretsy. You may also know me as Bronc Drywall’s hot blooded woman child.

This morning, Bronc flew to San Francisco to join 2,000 other civic minded masochists on the California AIDS Ride. Readers of this site and mine helped raise over $10,000 to sponsor him, and as soon as I saw how much money was coming in, I told him to just stay the hell home. I mean come on, they already have the money. What are they going to do, send it back?

Sadly, Bronc is a man who does what he says he’s going to do. So I drove him to the airport, and promptly came home and chewed a handful of Vicodin.

You see friends – and I use that word loosely because some of you would be happy to tear my beating heart out with a seam ripper – I’ve got some bad knees. And I don’t mean bad like good like the kids say on the MySpace. I mean OW OW OW

I blame my parents. My father had short stubby legs and healthy knees. My mother, an ex-showgirl, has beautiful legs and arthritic knees. WOULD IT HAVE KILLED THEM TO DO IT THE OTHER WAY AROUND

So starting Tuesday, I’ll be undergoing 5 weeks of injections to try to restore some of the fluid that Mother Nature has sucked out of my desiccated carcass like the vampire bitch she is. That’s why I’m medicated. Although truth be told, I probably would have polished off the Vicodin anyway, because it’s Saturday.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because no one is here except the dogs, and they’ve heard it all before.

But also because the drugs and lack of supervision mean that I am going to run wild until Bronc gets home. Fuck your format! You think I’m going to do this all week?

That’s not going to happen. I’m a big thinker with big ideas, and no stupid picture-caption bullshit is going to stop me! Plus I have no idea what a winner is.

So hang out with me this week, won’t you? We’ll screw this place up but good. We’ll eat everything in the house and leave porn all over the place. Won’t that be fun? I probably won’t start getting melancholy until Wednesday, so you have plenty of time to track my nervous breakdown.

It doesn’t get any better than this!

No, really. It doesn’t get any better than this. Sorry.