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.