The Chinchilla Relates Something. . . .Almost

I had the most wonderful, horrible dream. But I don't remember any details of it except that someone named Henry was in it and I was eating chips and dip while watching the Tampa Bay Bucs play the Broncos.

Mr. Chinchilla's Dinner Out

The other night, I had dinner with Owen. A friend whom I'll call "Anonymous person who called me a furry shit" arranged it because she said the chinchilla needed to make it right. I wanted to bite her, but I told her I would go for it because the meet-up was going to happen to get the chinchilla a free steak dinner and you all know how much the chinchilla digs a free steak.

I told my pal not to expect a miracle and that she would have to invite some other folks to act as a buffer in case I went all ape shit and started the "Chinchilla time" thing. She said ok and invited about a half dozen folks, none of whom I knew.

When I got to the steak joint, nobody else was there, so I just lit a cigarette and sat in my chinchilla mobile for about twenty minutes until I saw Owen. He arrived alone and got out of his Mercedes-Benz and checked his watch before heading toward the building. I waited until he got in, then I waited another ten minutes and made my move.

When I got inside the restaurant, my anonymous pal was standing around with Owen and several other folks and she looked somewhat irritated. She forced a smile and then introduced me to everyone.

Owen didn't say a word. Not even a smile. He looked uneasy like someone had just told him that his Benz had been key scratched that second. What a poor petite cabbage, I thought. He's not worth the energy of getting angry about, really. I was feeling better already.

After the host seated us, I found myself sitting between some lady wearing a blue dress with sequins and a feather boa and some guy in a white, silk shirt, no tie and blue jeans. The lady told me her name was Patricia and she said she quit her job as a lobotomist to work at home. She then droned on and on about how she started a business selling baby clothes on Ebay and how much money she makes and then talked some more about her second (or maybe it was her third) husband and how he much he would have liked me because he had kept several chinchillas as pets.

"Whaddya, mean, pets?" I asked her in all the seriousness that a chinchilla can muster.

"Oh, he loved his chinchillas! He had several that he kept in a large Plexiglas cage he made for them, and he would often feed them. . . ."

And that's when I bit her. I'm sorry. No, I'm not, really, I'm not sorry at all. I just couldn't take listening to her drone on and on and on about her fucking husband who kept chinchillas as pets. Besides, it was clear that Owen and I weren't going to patch anything up, my steak hadn't arrived and I was ready for the old Mickey D's by this time.

My Big Mac was pretty delicious, too. But I believe I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't had to eat it in the police cruiser.

The Chinchilla Dishes

Owen did not apologize to the chinchilla, so now I'm gonna spill the beans about what a prick he is:

1. He won't talk to anyone who does not have at least a high school education.

2. He only shops for groceries when he has a really bad sinus infection, and he makes sure to sneeze into his hands and then spreads the mucus over all the fruits in the produce section.

3. Since getting married last year, he has slept with hundreds of hookers.

4. When his wife confronted him about sleeping with all the hookers, he lied and said that he had only done it two or three times.

5. He eats out a lot and he never tips the staff. Sometimes he leaves a few pennies in the gravy on his plate when he's ordered pot roast.

6. He uses steroids to help him play better softball for his office team.

7. Although he claims he has a law school degree, he never attended any classes and I actually did all his work for him because the university would not admit any chinchillas. (I got him a 3.5 average.)

8. He's embezzled thousands of dollars from his employer. (I'm sending his employer a copy of this post with the details.)

Who's laughing now, Owen?

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!

One Unhappy Chinchilla

So it seems that Owen has defriended me as his Facebook buddy. First, he doesn't invite me to his wedding and now he's decided I'm chinchilla non grata?!? Well, screw him!!! He's just an arrogant prick who thinks he's better than everyone else.

Owen, if you're reading this, you better apologize to Mr. C. Or else I'm telling everyone what a prick you are.

Mr. Chinchilla's Debut Album

The chinchilla has been keeping a secret, but now he thinks it's safe to let all you folks see the reason he has not been interviewing anyone.

That's right, baby, Mr. C's been busy in the studio recording an album. With any luck and a little publicity, this album will keep the chinch supplied with more tequila-soaked raisins than he could ever possibly stuff down his gullet.

For all my peeps who have awaited the release, I'll be having a party (invitation only) and if you're one of the few lucky ones, you'll get one. If not, don't worry--I'll still be loving you and your $18.99 that you gave me for Chinchilla Love.

Here's a preview of the cuts:

1. Lookin' For Love
2. Wear Me Inside Out
3. The Neuter Blues
4. Lick My Wounds
5. I Wanna Be Your Pet
6. Your Cuddles (Mr. C. Can't Live Without Them)
7. Get That Furry On
8. Just Say Yes
9. Cedar Chips
10. Chinchillas Don't Cry
11. She's The Vet
12. Chinchilla Love

See ya at my release party!

Cable Chinchilla

Something must be wrong with Mr. C's tee-vee because all it gets is the Michael Jackson channel.

Mr. Chinchilla Visits The Dentist

Psych! Mr. C. didn't visit no dentist. He canceled his appointment because he hates having his teeth cleaned.

Heh heh heh.

What Happens With The Chinchilla Stays With The Chinchilla

Oh, it's real all right. Very real.



Don't mess with the chinchilla.

"Well, Duh!" Sez The Chinchilla

So like the U.S. Supreme Court thinks that it isn't kosher when a judge just won't disqualify himself from a case involving a donor who contributed multi-millions to his election.

Well. Duh.

Seriously, peeps, you don't need Nina Totenberg to explain this one because it ain't rocket science.

By the way, if anybody knows a billionaire coal executive who supports chinchilla suffrage, please let Mr. C. know.

John and Kate Plus Chinchilla

When Mr. C. dreams, he dreams in color. And lately, most of his dreams are about John and Kate.

I wonder if John and Kate dream about chinchillas.

The Chinchilla Is Most Humbled

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Well, maybe just the past two days. I can't fricking believe that Kris beat Adam out in American Idol. I mean, come on America! What the hell are you thinking? Adam can sings circles around Kris. CIRCLES.

But there's a silver lining to my otherwise pooptastic week. My old buddy Muze Euterpe gave the chinchilla a blog award:
Are those roses in a coffee cup? The chinchilla hasn't seen those since he passed out in Toronto after a two-day tequila binge at a comic book convention. Good times.

Let's see. . . . I think this award had some stipulations or something:

“The Bella Rules:

1) Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.

2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you’ve newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award”

Um, the chinchilla's taken care of #1. But #2 is gonna be tough for me (come to think of it, it usually is when all I have eaten is cheese for days straight). The chinchilla just hasn't been reading new blogs lately.

I guess I'll just do what I usually do when I need to figure something out. I'm gonna hit the tequila hard and come back with a dozen or more blogs for ya.

Thanks, Muze!

Mr. Chinchilla Loves You

I really do.

Paternity Chinchilla

Better start passing out those cigars, kids, because Mr. C's gonna be a daddy again! Well, ok, I'm already a daddy. . . . but I just found out today so cut me a break, k?

Seems that I impregnated a certain chinchilla over the Christmas break. I have absofrickenlutely no recollection of the events leading to the impregnation or even the trip I took to Chattanooga. But I must have because the DNA doesn't lie and I'm looking at a back chinchilla support arrears of over $3,000 now.

So I talked to the momma and she tells me that she'll let me see the kid as long as I travel down there. And I'm all like "WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO MAKE A FIVE HOUR TRIP IN MY CHINCHILLAMOBILE ALL THE WAY DOWN TO KNOXVILLE? YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!"

Seriously, peeps, I just don't have that kinda time, and besides, she did not even try to reach me before naming the kid "Epiphany." WTF?!? What kind of name is that for a chinchilla? Then she tells me that I better expect to get more news from Tennessee because I was apparently a pretty busy chinchilla last winter.

Looks like I better get me a lawyer because I can just hear those summons winging their way to the chinchilla's mailbox right now.

Mr. Chinchilla Gets Another Job

So like I have another job now and I'm getting paid to read blogs. Imagine that, huh? This has got to be the sweetest gig in the world. I just sit on my lazy chinchilla ass and surf the net all day. Then when I find a blog, all I have to do is leave a comment praising the site and pimping my company's spot. It goes something like this:

"Hey, dude, nice blog! Stop by ****** and let me know what you think!"

I've left out my company's name because I'm sure I'll get fired if it finds out I'm posting about my work. It's supposed to be top secret, but, hey, if the man wants me to keep a secret, then maybe his company should find a way to pay me more than $7.25 an hour with a half hour for lunch.

I'm still not sure exactly what my company does with all the information it gets from the peeps who surf its site. I'm not even sure why it needs a chinchilla for the job. (I'm not the only chinchilla workin' this beat....there are four others that share my cubicle.) Maybe it has something to do with global warming or something. Or maybe it's that the company is gathering lots of personal information from everyone and it doesn't want anyone to suspect. Well, as I said, it should have found a way to pay the chinchilla more than minimum wage without much time for lunch.

Yeah, I think as soon as I collect my next paycheck, I'm outta here. Hell, I may even blow the whistle on 'em just for fun.

Heh heh. I fucking love being me.

Wherein Your Chinchilla Tells It Like It Is

To all the kids and teabag fucks who groove on bashing Obama, the chinchilla's got a message for ya:

You'll never be as cool as the prez and until you all realize that you're just gonna continue your losing ways in your losing lives as a bunch of losers. So get with the program and work on helping to improve conditions in America and maybe one day y'all can say how wonderful it was to contribute to making our world a better place.

Ok. Back to my tequila.

Mr. Chinchilla's Movie Burrow

So Mr. C. finally checked out a copy of Milk out from his local video store. Truly, that store should not be in business because it has a really rank odor. It's kinda like rotten tomato mixed with stale beer and cigarette smoke. I dunno why anyone goes there but it must be all the porno the shop stocks in the back room. Yeah, that's gotta be it come to think of it because why else would a funky smelling video store stay in business unless it were a front for some illegal activity. Hmmm. Now the chinchilla's getting off topic again, damn.

Anyhoo, this Milk film keep getting raves from everyone so the chinchilla had to see for himself what all the fuss was about. And Mr. C.'s gotta say that his anticipation was greater than his fulfillment here because as freaking fucktastic as Sean Penn is in this flick, Milk just didn't have that "wow" factor for him.

First of all, there's no Bruce Willis in this film--not even a frickin' cameo. I mean, you got James Franco from the Spideyman picture, but you can't score Bruce W. for your movie? How difficult would it have been? Not to mention, but I will mention because I want to, there's no Jessica Alba in the film, either. Now that's no surprise, but I'm just sayin'.

And, of course, the major sin of the movie that I shouldn't have to mention to you, either, but I will because I want to: There ain't any chinchillas in the movie. Now Mr. C. understands that chinchilla discrimination isn't a hot topic or really even a topic in America now, but Hollywood really needs to wake up and smell the coffee because chinchillas get no respect. Hell, I bet Anita Bryant doesn't even count any chinchillas among her friends.

Lemme see. No Bruce Willis, no Jessica Alba, no chinchillas, one baptism scene and one fucktastic Sean Penn performance equal 2 1/2 out of 5 stars.