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?