I’ll start off straight with ya, I’m tired. Tired of your puzzled expression when I reference Wilfred. Tired of having your eyes roll at me when I attempt to persuade you into watching the show about a man in a dog costume, which apparently doesn’t have the ringing brilliance in description as I know it possesses. But I know what’s good for you right? I always have. That’s why you shoot another even though you feel like you’re too drunk already. I know what’s good for you, I always have. Dr. Ric prescribes.

Today I will make my final attempt to reprioritize your Netflix and put Game of Thrones on the back burner.

Not to knock your primitive medieval fascination. I’m quite addicted myself actually- now that David Duchovony has put his dick away for the season and I’m no longer able to vicariously live through Vinny Chase and the Chasers.

I’m pretty sure I miss Johnny Drama more than some of my real life family members.

It’s the end of summer, September. Chelsea’s long awaited wedding is upon us, and albeit I do appreciate a solid wedding, I’m fairly more stoked to have chase bunkin’ on my couch for the next week, and flying to Portland with him for the next.

Chase always stays with me, as opposed to grandma. And I do actually call her grandma. And his mom is my mom.

What an asshole right?

I’ll say my life is pretty fucking hectic on a consistent basis, but nothing like when Chase visits from Portland. It’s an attempt to cram 6 months of chillin’ into one week, and we’ve become increasingly efficient at it.

Night one. After devouring too many In N Out burgers (there ain’t one in Oregon), throwing them up, and lighting cigarettes backwards, our night is coming to a close. By close I only mean we’re going back to my place to eventually sleep.

Sure we’re tired, but you make a god damned effort to pry your eyes when you’re with your best friend you only see but once or twice a year.

We decide to watch something. Now might be a swell time to add, I don’t think either of us actually know how to operate standard cable or DVD players or any of that shit- despite how technologically apt we are, EVERYTHING is set up accordingly: GeForce 460ti to HDMI.

Munks: you ever seen Wilfred?
(I call him Munks, he calls me Ric- and that’s why you’ve been calling him Munks and me Ric for the last twelve years.)

Me: No. What the fuck is Wilfred?

Munks: It’s about a guy in a dog costume. I squint my eyes and prepare to roll in doubt.

But no. Fuck that. This is fucking Chase and I can recall countless times one of us jabbed with a pun and the two of us were the only ones laughing.

I remember laughing hysterically outside his home in Central Point, Oregon when the two of us realized over a cigarette that we’d both separately came to the same conclusion years ago that nothing in this world matters because we’re both going to die.

We’re on the same fucking page.

Let’s do it.

A quick torrent download from “it” and we got our Wilfred waders on.

I’ll admit, despite my undying trust in Munks, I was a little taken aback to find Elijah Wood as the lead role.

It’s not that I hate Elijah Wood or anything.

And it’s not that he looks gay.

It’s just Lord of the fucking Rings is 9 hours of my life I’ll never get back, and I had shifted all blame solely on him.

Elijah Wood: the face of my hatred for all things Lord of the Rings.

That said, I forgive you Elijah.

I forgave him two minutes in to episode one when he’s pictured on a couch smoking weed out of a Gatorade-bottle-made-bong with a man in a dog costume. A man in a dog costume who’s also smoking weed.

I suppose this is the segment I list the nutritional properties Wilfred has to offer.

Did I not just specify a man in a dog costume smoking weed out of a Gatordade-bottle-made-bong?

The show’s premise is the traditional tale of a young man with a loss of direction and a lack of motivation: Naturally, leading Elijah to the only justifiable solution of suicide. As opposed to more violent techniques, Elijah decides to go out on a ride of prescription narcotics.

Admirable, if I do say so myself, which I do.

That’s the way I’d do it anyway.

Elijah meets Wilfred near the same moment he realizes his sister prescribed him placebo sugar pills, as opposed to the alprazolam he intended to overdose on.

Elijah proceeds to learn life lessons from a man in a dog costume for the following ten episodes, through untried untraditional methods of drug use, debauchery, stuffed animal humping and of course ensued hilarity.

 
Other than the fact it’s an 8.0 on IMDB (MCChris: “that means something up here!”), I have no other convincing notions to convey at this point in time, nor do I give a fuck if you actually turn on Wilfred to enjoy it. But hey, my frequent status updates may turn suddenly comprehendible if you were to roll the dice.

No? Your fucking loss.

I just had a moment of creativity and jogged this into my iPhone notepad this morning.