What kind of world would you live in where you need to open bottles, but can’t, because you’re not at home, and not in a bar, and you don’t have your keychain, but your dog is with you? The Dog Collar Bottle Opener world, I suppose.
If you have a sex thing where you want someone to treat you bad, that’s one thing. But quietly assenting to eat meals out of a big dog-bowl labeled MAN is a special level of depressing. Maybe it’s the Chef Boyardee and goblet of Juicy Juice, but it just seems degrading. You might as well drink out of the toilet. (That second link is proof that somewhere, a time traveler stepped on a butterfly, and we got pushed onto an alternate timeline where nothing will be quite right ever again.)
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