I *%@&-ing Hate Sea Lions

I look like crap, but I want you to know it’s the sea lion’s fault.

I live right up against the docks that circle the marina, providing a convenient place for millionaires to park their sailboats and for sea lions to spread unrest and dark under-eye circles across the land.

Oh sure, they look cute with their fur and their flippers. Oh, that sweet little waddling flipper walk.

But do not be deceived by the precious little ear flaps! Evil lurks in their hearts.

“Arf! Arf! Arf!” they bark day and night. Jesus, is it loud. It’s like being surrounded by a pack of dogs with laryngitis and megaphones.

1 a.m. as you try to sleep: “Arf! Arf! Arf!”

3:30 a.m. as you try to sleep: “Arf! Arf! Arf!”

10 a.m. as you shout to be heard over the din while trying to make a dentist appointment: “Arf! Arf! Arf!”

1 p.m. as you shove cotton balls in your ears, desperate for enough silence to finish your work: “Arf! Arf! Arf!”

Right this very minute: “Arf! Arf! Arf!”