Yo, This Weather is F-ed Up

Dude, I am, like, seriously losing my mind. It has been mad rainy for the last few days n I am totally over this shit. I am extra pissed at Mom cuz yesterday it was beautiful weather and I was like, Yo, let's hook it up and go hike Elysian or Griffith or some shit. N Mom went to the gym instead! (What was extra f-ed up was that she used the same bag for the gym as she use when we go to the park so I was like, SCORE and then I was like... WTF?! Whore!) To pass the time TRAPPED INSIDE I have been super bratty with Chester mostly cuz he sucks and I hate him. I am also making sure to jump up on Mom with my wet paws until she yells "OFF STELLA OFF" a few times. I also wiped my dirty feets on the bed. Take that, biotch! You make your bed o lies, now sleep in that shit!

Kind Of Almost Okay Mom

Mom told me yesterday that I am gettin' a few days break from my Gentle Leader because she don't want an ugly DENT in my nose for "pictures." I don't really give a flying Chester about da dent but damn, yo, I feels like I just broke outta juvie not havin to wear that gay ass Gentle Leader. I've been showing Mom I don't need that shit anyway but draggin' her ass everywhere we go, launchin myself at cats n birds n anything that moves. If I keep it up maybe I never need it again! The one thing I am kinda nervous about is what she talking about pictures. Last couple years have been real annoying posing for that shit. Plus this year I saw Mom showing Dad some flyer about Dogs and Santa and Dad said, Hell No I'm not taking her to that. But Mom was like, Fine, YOU don't have to whatever! She had that determined look that she gets when she's eating so I'm kinda a scared bitch. I just hope my Mom knows better than to think I could handle some f-ing stranger dressed up in a big ass costume touchin me n askin' what I want for Christmas. (In case you is interested, I want the same thing as I asked for last year and didn't get: My own bedroom. Oh and Chester back at North Central. And also a kitten. That's it! JEEZ!)

No Fun Mom

Generally speaking, me n Salchicha don't see eye to eye. For example, the other day he got himself caught in a bush.

But yesterday Mom took me and Mongo to da park and it just so happens that we had the same idea. This is how it went down:

There was this big ole pack of ugly-ass dogs running toward us. So I did a lil jog up the hill to get outta their way n little-brother-I-never-wanted followed me. But while we was up da hill... something caught our eye. And that something was poop.

Around this time Mom was starting to call us back to her. But you know what, dog? That shit be calling my name too!

Chester stuffed his ugly mug with the goods, while I was feeling more like a good roll. (Okay, fine, I took a nibble myself.) Mom's calling was gettin more and more ANNOYING so finally me n Silver Dollar jogged on back.

Mom was NOT happy to smell us coming. She was like, "Are you kidding?!" (Ummm, no.) I'm also pretty sure I heard her call us "assholes" which is mad f-ed up, unless she was talking about Chestool's ginormous butt-hole.

When we got back to the house, Mom dragged us into the bathroom before we could even say hi to Dad and Peluso. And she gave us each a not so gentle bath. What was even more offensive than the bath were the obnoxious notes plus-size Yankee kept slipping under the door asking us to save him the bath water and asking if I took it or left it (a reference to da super retarded classes I used to haveta take for "manners.")

All in all, I learned a valuable lesson: If no fun is your goal, Mom n Chesturd are da perfect pair.

Havin a BALL

Yo fool. Even a rough n tumble street bitch like me needs to unwind sometimes. N while Mom n Dad find comfort in booze and fast food, this ho keeps it real. Kickin back by kickin a ball.

Check it:

White Trashed

Crazy has a name. And that name is STEVE.

Uncle Ano and Aunt Becca's autistic puppy was supposed to stay with us til Saturday.

He left on Wednesday.

Things started off pretty cool. We was playin n wrestlin n shit. N I kinda liked the fact that Steve was like bumping into tables n walls like he didn't even notice.

Me n Steve even went to Elysian together with Mom so that was cool -- especially since Chester had to stay home. SUCKER!

But things went downhill. While Mom was out picking Dad up, Steve ate the bedskirt. Then, while I was eating my DINNER that honky stuck his stupid pink nose in my bowl. Man, I laid the smack down on his ass. Dad said, He's just a puppy, Stella! But Mom took my side.

But later, Mom was gonna stuff her wide gaping mouth with food and I seen Steve walk over to where she was at n I was like "BACK THE F OFF, GRINGO!" And Mom didn't take my side.

So that night Mom put Steve in da crate but whitey wasn't havin' none of that. Even though he'd been passed out for hours before, he wouldn't chillax. So Mom made Dad push the crate into the hall. And then the bar holding all Mom n Dad's clothes fell down. And Mom was pissed. And Steve was still freakin out in the crate. So then Mom made Dad carry the crate to the kitchen cuz of course it's all about making Mom comfortable. And Dad was like, He's gonna keep up the neighbors and Mom was like, Just close the windows.

But then Dad was worried and we could still hear Steve crying and Dad felt bad. Mom said, Let him cry it out! But Dad won for once. So then they let him out and then he peed all over the floor.... and my bed. That's right, bitches. This is the second time MY BED has gotten jacked up by some visiting punk. (The first time bein' when fat camp Yankee had a 'rrhea disaster.)

Mom n Dad felt really bad about returning Steve to Becca's animal clinic to get boarded there but this was one time that me n short bus agreed on something. Though I think the only reason Chester didn't like Steve is cuz Chester likes being the numero uno dumb ass and Steve was tough competition.

Bad Things Happen in Threes

Wow does my life freaking suck. This past weekend was bader than usual for the following reasons: 1) Peluso dropped off his tard baby for five freaking days. Highlights include Yankee being an asshole to me, stealing my moose, and transforming our delicious water bowl into 75% spittle and 25% ewwww. 2) The Raiders lost 38-0. What the freak, Darrius Heyward Bey! 3) We got attacked at the park by some crazy f-ing german shepard. Now, some of you might know that about a year ago my ass got jumped by a renegade shepard while I was walkin' in the neighborhood and that mofo tore me up! (My fur grew back and I have moved on but Dad is still traumatized.) Well, this time, me n Mom n Holly n Tiger n Butthead was walking in Elysian. And up ahead we hear this commotion. And I was like, I'm in, yo! But Mom n Holly was like, Let's put them on leashes. So we was walking by and this guy is holding back this HUGE freakin' shepard who is up on his hind legs freakin out on our asses. So I was like, Yo, what you gonna do, BIOTCH. And Mom was like, Leave it! But then, just as we passed, the shepard's collar up n BROKE and that crazy freak came charging at us. N Mom went street on his ass. Damn, yo. She was straight up Eastside. Screamin "GET YOUR BLANKING DOG GET YOUR BLANKING DOG" over n over while her n Holly kicked him n I showed him my teeth n Chester cried n tried to run away but he was on the leash so it didn't work out so good. Finally those chump owners got their dog... and then the collar broke again! And that psycho was back on the attack! I thought Mom was gonna freakin lose it, specially when the dog went in for Chester and BIT him on the back. (That is MY JOB, holmes!!!) The owners got the shepard but Mom was still yellin' and the owner guy was lookin' all annoyed and was like "Calm down" and Mom was like "BLANK YOU YOUR BLANKING DOG BIT MY BLANKING DOG BLANK YOU!" But then we just ran away cuz that shepard was still bein' crazy. And Mom checked out poop-for-brains and discovered that the shepard hadn't broken his thick skin and he was even waggin' his stupid tail. And Mom's finger turned all black n blue from the leash or some shit n she is showin' it off like a gang tattoo.

Football No-Fun-day

So this past week has kinda really sucked for me and it's all because my dad was raised to root for a crappy team. I'm a Raiders fan, through n through, and that's cuz we are freakin' badasses.

N last Sunday was awesome cuz we freakin' showed those dog killa Eagles, yo. But, of course, my celebration was cut short. Because at the same time as my homies was laying the smack down, the Jets was shittin the bed like the time Yankee shit my bed that one time and never replaced it. So Dad packed up all his Jets stuff and covered Chester's Jets food bowl with masking tape -- He wanted to throw it out but Mom reminded him of how long it took to convince Chester it was okay to eat out of that bowl and made him keep it. Most rude of all was that Dad packed away MY RAIDERS JERSEY. He told Mom, It's not funny anymore! I was like WTF? When was it ever funny? It's AWESOME. I got a Charles Woodson jersey and I rock that shit every Sunday. All I can say is, guess who's playing this Sunday, fool? JETS VS RAIDERS. And it's not gonna be pretty. For the Jets.

Coyotes Isn't Just For Smuggling Mexicans

Today Mom and me went to the park just us which was AwEsOme! Except towards the end of the hike this guy passes us and goes, "There's a coyote up ahead. You may wanna leash your dog." And Mom was like, "Stell! Get over here now!" Cuz I was runnin' like a wild bitch who hasn't gotten a hike in FOREVER because I hadn't gotten a hike in forever. Anyways, I suffer the indignity of bein' on my freakin' leash and we keep walking for a bit and Mom's like, "I don't see anything, Stella." But as soon as she said that of course we saw it. Now usually these coyotes is some oogly-ass scrawny mofos that get all scared soon as they see my big fat mom walking over. But this one was pretty sturdy lookin', prolly my size. And this creep was just looking right at us, even when Mom tried to act tough and front like she was gonna attack (HA that's so funny I forget to laugh.) Since Mom's antics wasn't doin' nothing I started to turn on the gansta and I was like, "YO, you got a starin' problem, buddy?" and "Take a picture it'll last longer, chump!" And "MOM! Stop tightening my leash so freakin' short. JEEZ." Then Mom picks up a stick for God's knows why. But she don't move and she wouldn't let me get away to school that freak so we're just standing there like a couple of Chesters. Finally this dude comes jogging along and sees the staring contest and he's like, "I'll scare it away" and he runs down and yells and claps his hands and that dumb ass coyote skitters off and Mom ran us down to the parking lot. I wanted Mom to wait while I gave that peeping tom a taste of the East side, but Mom said, "Get in the car, Stella."

Back to School Sucking

Because Mom sucks, today we went to "Advanced" training classes. Basically, Mom thought it would be fun to torture me for her own amusement. The teacher seriously brought up getting her dog to go into the fridge and get a beer. WTF! You got a problem with your chubby legs? JEEZ! But the main part of today's ass I mean class okay I really did mean ass was to respond to some f-ing "clicker." Some of the other tard dogs in the class were all about touching their freakin nose to a popcicle stick for a click and a treat. Not this bitch! That clicker was seriously f-ed up. After a few loud clicks near my face for some measily hot dog bits I was like, peace, yo. I stopped even looking at Mom. Mom told the teacher I was scared of the clicker. Lezle said keep trying. By now I was heading back to the car. Finally Lezle asked Mom if she could make a clicking noise with her mouth. Apparently, Mom's face fat is good for more than eating. Lezle complimented Mom on being able to make a loud clicking sound. Way to go, Mom. You are an asshole.

Keepin' My Mother Freakin' Name

Yo listen up. Maybe you folks is heard the news that my parents are gonna get married so that me n Chester aren't bastard children no more. But no matter what stupid last name mama gets, I want you all to be clear: This bitch is Stella Nashorn to the mother-freakin' end, dude. Also, I would just like to say -- for the freakin' record -- that when dad was acting the tard today, down on one knee, dealing with mom's hysterical shite -- that me n Chester was chillin on the couch and didn't even look up when that bs was going down. You know why, holmes? Well, Chester didn't react cuz he's retarded. (Kinda a trick question.) But I didn't say nothin' cuz who's really surprised by this "news"? I mean, who the heck else gonna marry these fools? The best/only good part of the day was when Becca came over and hooked my ass up with some pizza. Mom didn't give me any of the goods cuz she was busy feeding herself. (Go ahead, Mom. Stuff your hole with pizza, ice cream and beers. I'm sure they make some great wedding mumus.)

Happy Birthday to Me, Bitches!

Hola Gringos. Today is the anniversary of me gettin' a freakin' mom. And in keeping with tradition, my parents are ditching my ass. That's right, for the second time in three years they are leaving town on my birthday. They did take me for a birthday walk sans ass-face. It was appreciated. Though it was not appreciated that Mom proceeded to talk on da phone for half an hour and after she got off Dad was like, "Wow. thought we were going on a birthday walk." And Mom was like, "Sorry!" and Dad was like, "It's okay." But it didnt seem okay. And I had to agree with him that Mom sucks.

That's Right, Bitches!

I'm back on da BOOK! Here's the email I got this morning: Hi, Your account was mistakenly suspended due to an error by Facebook's site security system. We sincerely apologize for this inconvenience. We have reactivated your account and you will now be able to log in. Thanks for your understanding, The Facebook Team Looks like I fought da law and schooled that mofo! Oh man. I feel so giddy right now I could lick the inside of Chester's mouth. Hold on. Okay I'm back. That tasted like shit, yo. Probably horse shit. Maybe his own. You never know with that salchicha. Anyway, I am really psyched to be back, though slightly disappointed all I got was that shitty form letter when I put so much time n thought and freakin' FEELING into my letter to those honkies.

An Open Letter to Facebook.

After my recent expulsion from da joys of facebooking, I sent this email to Facebook. (mom told me I should try to clean up my potty mouth since this is a "professional" letter. I asked mom if wearing a tube top to work is similarly "professional.") This is my email: Dear Facebook, Yo wuzzup. I hope you are doing good. I am not doing good. The reason I am not doing good is cuz the other day I tried to log on to my dope-butt account and got a crazy-butt message that I was "disabled." Now first of all, my brother chester is disabled so I was personally offended you be using that word. You should change it to say, Account has been retarded. Next of alls, what the F! I freakin' love Facebook. I use that shoot everyday to connect and share with da peeps in my life. Then I got to thinking you are discriminating against me cuz I'm black. Well, that's f-ed up, yo! Damn right I grew up in East LA and lived da gangsta life but I've been a good bitch, mostly, in a good home, mostly, for going on 3 years. Holla! I hope you will make my account unretarded soon. Myspace sucks testes. Peace out, Stella Nashorn

Assbook

I just tried to log onto Facebook and got this f-ed up message:

Apparently my account has been "disabled." So all I can say to you, ASSBOOK, is that if we ever meet on da streets of LA I will DISABLE you, fucker!!!!

At least I still have myspace: myspace.com/lil_blak_dog_w_no_manners

Grandma and Grandpa Came for a Visit

Grandpa refused to be photographed for my blog. Grandma said okay. (Mom said that's probably only cuz she don't know what a blog is. Man, is my mom a TURD.)

Staycation

So basically I just wanted to put it out there that I've had a freaking crappy-ass summer. Mom and Dad keep going away and leaving my ass behind. So far they've gone to Maine and to Hilton Head. Chester has gone to Palm Springs. And Stella has gone No Where. WTF.

Mom and Dad went to a waterfall and got lobster.

This is the lobster they gave me.

The moose was clearly also for me eventhough they gave it to Chester.

IndePAIN IN MY ASS Day

I would just like to say that me n Chester n Marcello was talking and we all agreed that the 4th of July is nastier than the occasional piece of fruit mom puts in her fleshy face. It didn't help that this year mom spent the whole day working and dad spent the whole day drinking so where did that leave me and ass-face? Alone. In the bedroom. Traumatized by our neighborhood full of Mexicans celebrating America by setting off illegal fireworks.

Dia de Padre

So last year me n Chester totally forgot Father's Day. (I blame Mom. And Chester's mental retardation. And Dad's major suckage as a dad.) Regardless of our valid excuses, all freakin year Dad reminded us about our memory lapse. So this year we got Dad some cards so he'd stop complaining like a bitch.

After Mom and Dad spent the day ignoring us because they were hungover and lazy and then they went to see Drag Me to Hell (which is basically my LIFE!) then Dad felt bad so he read each of us a story.

My Mom is Prejudiced Against Mexicans!!!

Okay, fine, I'm not talking about Mexican people, but my Mom has been really unfair to me lately and I think it's because I'm a chola. It all started a few days ago when me n Mom went to da park. I was running like a gansta like I do and eventhough I'm usually a sure-footed mo fo I guess I slipped on something (No, not Chester, though that spazz attack does get in my freakin' way a lot JEEZ!). Anyways, my front foot was hurtin' and Mom was like, Stell, what's wrong, did you hurt your little foot? And I was like NO WAY BITCH YOU BE FRONTIN' and just to prove that I was freakin fine I went and played with some brindle-face bitch named "Sierra." But then my foot hurt a lot and Mom was like, Stell, oh no! You're limping. And I was like, F-dat, ese, it be my pimp walk. But then Mom called Dad to pick us up at the park and he was crabby because she interrupted his third nap. But he came and it was kinda nice to not have to walk home. And for a few days Mom kept giving me peanut butter that I'm pretty sure that shit was laced with something! (Ever heard of the show Weeds where the mom deals drugs???) But what's really F-ed up is that Chester went out with Mom the next day and came back smelling like ELYSIAN PARK. God I kicked that boy's ass so bad for that shit. And now my foot feels freakin fine but Mom says I have to wait til the weekend to hike and meanwhile she took Chester to GRIFFITH today. Freakin' GRIFFITH. My favorite park in the world!!! White man really got me down today. Hit me up, yo. Lemme know I'm not alone.

My Dad is so F-ing Lazy it Makes me Want to Attack Chester's Face

So this Sunday cry-baby Dad had to get up at 4:45 to work from 5:30-11:30... Unsurprisingly, Dad spent the rest of the day sleeping like a chump. And slower-than-Corky Chester must have thought the lump of dad on the couch was his new bed.

I had mixed feelings about this cuz part of me thinks, Good, fool! Stay the freak away from MY BED. But part of me is really not cool with Chester being all snuggly n shit with MY DAD.

And I would just like to remind my lazy ass dad that I frequently hike over 5 miles a day. Plus, back on Edgeware I would stay up late with dad til, like, 3AM then at 5AM Christa would take me for a run and then Mom would take me for a hike at 8. And you never heard my ass complain!

Personally, I think Dad was just avoiding hanging out with Mom all day who kept bothering him about maybe seeing a movie and what do you want for dinner and I think we need more mayo because I'm a pig and I eat mayo all day and blah blah blah blah.

The Happiest Place on Earth????

According to the numerous commercials which Mom and Dad see all day long while they sit on their asses watching Prison and Crime shows, Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. F THAT, HOMIE! Disneyland sucks ass.

So I guess Disneyland was doing some "free on your birthday" promotion that Mom and Dad just had to cash in on because they are freaking cheap. (.59 cent tacos, eating the expired Starbucks food... need I say more?) So on Dad's birthday, June 4, all of us got rounded up so that Dad could have his gay-ass Disneyland Birthday.

When we first got into the car, I figured we were going to the park.

But then I figured out we weren't.

Meanwhile, Chester and Marcello comforted each other like the homos they are.

So, while me and Chester and Marcello had to SHARE A CRATE in the stupid hotel room with a marathon of the Gilmore Girls playing on the TV (KILL ME NOW, MUTHA FUCKA!) Mom and Dad were out having the time of their freaking lives. They even got to meet my idol, Pluto.

Dad looked for Nemo. (I woulda found him. And killed him.)

Everything's a small world compared to Mom's ginormous head.

And Mom even convinced wussy Dad to ride Space Mountain with her dumb-ass self. Look at her smile. I'm pretty sure she just shit herself with happiness.

At the end of the worst day of my life (after Gilmore Girls it switched to iCarly. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???) Mom and Dad returned with a present for me. Yeah. Thanks a whole freaking lot. Just what I wanted.

Assholes.

A Memorial Day to Forget

yeah, fine. aunt roberta did take me for a hike everyday. and okay, it was pretty cool to see aunt christa, and i did appreciate the various delicious treats she brought from wisconsin in flavors: duck, peanut butter and honey, and cheese. (though she ignored my warning that chester and marcello didn't want any.)

but other than the treats and walks, my memorial day SUCKED ASS (in a bad way).

i spent most of my weekend in a freakin' crate while aunt christa partied the night away at andre's singing kareoke with black light paint and a stripper pole, and mom, well, see for yourself:

The Sociopath Next Door

Mom recently read this book. Initially, I assumed Mom was just reading it to pretend to be smart. But recently I've begun to think there may be some truth to it. Because Boaz moved in next door. And he is a sociopath.

**

Things started off relatively normal with Boaz. He was from a local shelter -- represent, yo! -- and rumor has it he was found in a junkyard (keep it real!). But we soon realized Boaz wasn't no ordinary dude. First, I heard a rumor that he barked and growled at one of his (human) roommates and I thought, Yo, that's right, tell that gringo wassup. But then I got the other story that his mom left him in the living room while she left for 5 minutes for a cup of coffee, and wouldn't you know, this freak jumped through the front window screen and his mom came back to find him on the porch. And I was like, Whoa, dude. You gonna end up like me, forced to put yo ass in a freakin crate when the folks go out. My prediction was correct. A few days later, Boaz' rents asked Mom and Dad to keep an eye on him while they went out. Mom was like, Just borrow Stella's crate. I was like WTF!!!! Talk about taking liberties with MY SHIT. Like, how would Mom like it if some random homeless man came by n I was like, Yeah, sure, take a nap on the bed and be sure to rub your open sores into the pillows. HUH? How would Mom feel about that? But ANYWAYS, Mom didn't think about that and leant out my crate. Well, Boaz' rents came home to find Boaz had EATEN HIS WAY OUT OF MY CRATE. Like, destroyed it by way of his caverous mouth. Uh, yeah. It was all cool and shit terrorizing the roommates but things was gettin' out of control. So a few days ago, dad was home n hears a SMASH. Well he came huffing back to the bedroom where me n the boys were chillin', thinkin' we did something wrong cuz he is always thinkin' the worst, jeez! Anyway, we were like, What's your prob? And he was like, Nevermind I suck. So what was that smash? It was Boaz, shattering his rents' bedroom window when he jumped through it while they were out. Dad found him attempting to push open the front gate of our complex onto Glendale Blvd. Thinking that perhaps it wouldn't be so cool to have this 80 pound sociopath wandering through Echo Park, Dad quaranteened us in the bedroom and brought Boaz INTO OUR HOUSE. (Clearly Dad hadn't read Martha Stout's best-selling book where she talks about keeping sociopaths OUT of your life.) Anyway, Boaz mostly controlled himself in our house. Though while he was out on the patio he did try to knock over the fence between our patio and the back of the complex. So protect yourself, people! Sociopaths ARE next door. **Due to the volatile, sociopathic nature of the actual Boaz I could not get close enough to capture a picture of him. This photo is the closest approximation of his psycho look I could find.

Dia de Madre

This Sunday me n Chester got Mom cards for Mother's Day even though most of the time she is a raving bitch. Chester spelled Mommma with three mmms whereas I went latina-style.

Chester's card was kind of inappropriate and all the inside said was "Go Jets!" For my card I just re-gave Mom my Valentine's Day card. Inside it said, "I hate cats! Love, Stella." (Just like it did when I gave it to her before. On Valentine's Day.)

Cinco de Why-O?

Cinco de Mayo is one of the most important holidays for my gente. Unsurprisingly, my gringo family made a mockery of my Latina heritage. I mostly blame Mom. Look at her face compared to everyone else's.

Marley and GIVE ME A BREAK

Oh my freaking God. "THE WORLD'S WORST DOG"? Yo, I'm no scientist but where's my empiricals. FO REAL, bitch? What the heck this dog do that was so bad? I waited the whole movie for something to sink my teeth into, so to speak.

So he chewed up some shit. Pulease. In less than 3 years time I've eaten:

• a couch
• several pillows
• a room-size carpet (and the pad underneath)
• a brand-new king-size bed
• roberta's shoes
• ari's book
• mota's knitting
• mom's binders
• dad's slippers
• dad's wallet
• dad's replacement wallet
• dad's writing notebooks that he'd had since he was 14
• more of dad's shit
• dad's garden

So fat cow Marley pulled a chair across a restaurant. Mom only took me to a bar once (Cat and Fiddle -- there was her first mistake, taking me to a bar named after my favorite prey.) Anyways, I noblely protected* mom from the waitress and any patron that walked by... until the manager asked us to leave.

So Marley dropped a shadoobie at the Dog Beach. After Mom and Dad drove 45 miles to the only dog beach around -- Huntington -- within minutes I spotted a rogue surfer and lept forward to tell him to STEP OFF, YO. When fended off by his surfboard, I gave the board of piece of my mind. And my teeth. When the surfer threatened to call Animal Services (what a pussy, right?) Mom and Dad grabbed me, rather roughly I might add, and dragged me to the car to drive all the way home.

Anyway, it should come as no surprise that despite this being THE WORLD'S WORST MOVIE, Mom got all weepy at the end - RIP, Marley, you F-ing CHUMP! - and made all of us come sit with her on the couch. (Dad had the right idea in choosing to pass on the movie in favor of drinking by himself on the patio.)

So here we are right after the movie ended. Mom told us she loved us and I told Marcello to get his ass outta my face.

* There is some contention surrounding this point. While I am SURE I was defending with honor and integrity, Mom says I savagely lunged at and traumatized everyone trying to enjoy their dinner and drinks.

Chester is a Big Fat F-ing Faker

So last week I was real freakin' POed cuz Mom put me in the bedroom and then took Chester on a secret adventure. When he came back I naturally welcomed him home by charging and tackling him, however I stopped mid-leap. Because Chester had the stench of one terrifying place: The Echo Park Animal Hopsital. Later I heard Mom on the phone to Dad saying that Chester had an umbilical hernia because his dumbass first mom had bitten off his umbilical cord too close to his (substantial) gut. So the other day Mom brought Chester over to Becca's at 6 in the freaking morning (she whined all day about this point) so that Becca could take him to her Beverly Hills vet office for the surgery. Imagine my surprise (okay, fine, disappointment) when Chester returned home without any stupid looking stitches and with his same tard expression (rather than the drug-induced stupor I'd been anticipating I mean dreading...). It turns out Chester was FINE TO BEGIN WITH. Needless to say, Mom was expressing her disapproval (what else is new?) with the Echo Park vet for misdiagnosing Chester. BUT she was very happy to save herself $400 which she will probably spend on food for her fat face.

Mom was so happy Chester was okay (excuse me while I GAG) that she stopped at the Three Dog Bakery to buy us some Peanut Brindle and get Chester a pup cake.***

** Chester thanked Mom for the pup cake by taking a GINORMOUS DUMP... in the BEDROOM. WHY MOM? WHY ARE YOU STILL PRETENDING YOU LOVE THIS MONGOLOID MUTT?

Black n Silver, Yo!

Today was a big day for my bad-ass football team, Da Raiders. Dad and Chester took a break from rooting for their fagtastic team to psych me up before the pick.

Yeah! Darrius Heyward-Bey!

(And F you if you think we shoulda gone with Crabtree. Far as I'm concerned that bitch can swim his ass across da bay.)

Mom Tried to Kill Me.

12pm. 102 degrees outside (literally). And genius Mom decides it's a great time to go for a run. It occurs to me as I write this blog that my mom may in fact be stupider than Chester. (Unless manipulating Dad is a sign of intelligence.) We made it one loop around Echo Park Lake before Mom realized that we were both about to pass out from heat exhaustion. So we went home. I passed out. Here is a picture. Mom took a cold shower but no one wants to see that picture. . Despite my fatigue, I'm happy to report that I managed to get a few good lunges in at those repulsive geese.

BO-ring

The Obamas really let me and shit-face (Chester) down today. Malia's allergies my skinny black ass. Lots of terriers and poodles are hypoallergenic. And yeah, I know these breeds kinda suck... but no more than a Portugese Water Dog. But my point is you can find terriers and poodles -- even PURE-BRED ones if you're into stupid -- at the shelter, which is where my man Obama shoulda been lookin in the first place.

If Jesus Died for our Sins, Why am I Still Suffering?

Last weekend there was a knock at the door. I thought it might be a friend. Like Andre. Or Ari and Holly. Or Roberta. But instead... It was YANKEE. F me.

Yankee is such a friggin barbarian he PISSED by his own food bowl. Twice.

I tried to avoid him at all costs.

But I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him. If I took my guard down who knows what f-ed up shit that fat bastard could be capable of.

Finally Peluso picked up his retarded kid and me and Chester and Marcello sighed in relief...

Until JENNA showed up this weekend!!

And that is why I do not understand if Jesus died for our sins, why the F am I still suffering?