Pain in the

LEG. Ugh!!!

Oh my dog, you guys. This bitch has NOT been doin' so fly. Last Thursday Mom came home to find my ass on three (sexy) legs. Mom was like, "Stella what happened to your foot oh I have to go take care of the lump I'll be back." A million years later she be back to check on me. She was all pretending to be a doctor and I was like, You not Becca! What you think you gonna learn from squeezing on my haunches like you squeeze your pants over your front butt (the scale might say you 5 pounds from your pre-pregnancy weight but Stella says your body disagree). 

Make-it-stop-Mom asked better-but-still-annoying-Dad, Was she like this when you got home? And Dad: Did not know. Like, he seriously had been so lump-obsessed he did not notice that when he come home and open the bedroom door it were only Tweedle Dumbald and Tweedle Dumbster who come runnin' out.

Baby-spitup-is-the-new-deoderant-mom-n-dad 'cluded that it weren't broken. ("We'd be able to tell if it were broken, right?" Yeah. Right?" "Yeah...You don't think it's broken do you?"). So Mom gave me some peanut butter with a hard thing in it and was like, Let's see how she be tomorrow. But when tomorrow came this cool-ass mutt was still hurtin' like Chester's face hurt my soul.

So martyr Mom took my ass to da vet. The vet was like, It's a sprain. And then he STABBED ME IN THE NECK. And when I took it like Dad takes Mom's shit, the vet be like, "She takes shots well." And I was like, Damn straight. What kinda chola I be if I couldn't take a hit now n then?

Anyways, I still feel a ways from "aight" but I think the sausage with hard things Mom been giving me been helpin' a little and after a few days off my game I even been able to lay the smack down and tell off a few of the punk-ass neighborhood dogs who think it OK to walk past my window. (It not.)

As for what happened to cause this effed up sitch-uation... Yo, Stella ain't a narc. But let's just say, sometimes evil things come in cuddly block-head packages. With feet that pretend to be legs.

I COULD be any louder

Every body know that if you live in my house and you a dog and maybe if you a cat too, your day gots to start with a little ass kickin. The loving-but-firm booty whipping is as simple as Chester. You simply walk out into the hall and I tackle your ass. This is how it's been since the beginning of time (like, when me n mom lived in Hollywood just us and life was less complicated and also smarter). Back then there wasn't nobody to tackle so I would jump on mom and she would laugh because her own poor life decisions hadn't drained the fun out of her yet.

But now suddenly large-and-in-charge mom and large-but-not-in-charge dad be hatin' on my routine. They be like, "Really, Stella?" and "Oh my God could you be any louder." I'm like, umm, first of alls, Yes, really, chins-to-China Mom, and also, Wow, actually I could be so much louder SEE CHECK THIS OUT I AM TALKING TO THAT NEIGHBOR POOCH WHO BE FRONTIN' ALL DAY AND OWWWWW MOM DON'T PULL ME BY MY COLLAR I'M GONNA CALL CESAR MILAN AND HE WILL SSSSSHHH YO ASS, JEEZ.

I just feel like milksupply mom gotta axe herself, Is this really worth da stress it is clearly causin' her to yell at the one being in her life who make the least amount of mess for her? (Think.About.It) I'm just releasin' a little steam in the morning by reminding the redheaded stumpchildren they suck butthole and not in a delicious way.

Donald wants to live with the neighbors and I am totally supportive of that

Yo so everybody know Donald be a weird dude but homeboy has really ratcheted up da crazy in recent months.It all started in October when mom n the lump went to buy a video lump monitor in Long Beach. It was flippin' hot so mom left the windows in the bedroom open and some fans on. Me n the redheaded lowriders was chillin. I was nappin, drinkin a little agua, okay, yes I mighta even given my undercarriage a little lick. But Donald was actin crazy like how mom acts when dad say he gonna say he gonna take care of that thing he said he was gonna take care of and mom wanna know, when you gonna stop will do it and just done it.


Anyway Don'tald was gettin more n more frantic.  I was like, Yo. What is going on with your ass (besides smelling delicious no wonder Chester eats it for breakfast lunch and afternoon snacks)? But Fat Baby didn't answer because he only talk "with his eyes" as loser face mom says.


Then he did it. That stumpy leg weirdo jumped out da window. Through the screen. To the pavement like 7 feet below or if you measuring in Donald feet like 346 feet.The neighbors found puppy bear and seen the fallen screen and seen the broken banana plant that silent-but-ugly landed on.  They called mom but mom was like, I'm with the lump in Long Beach I suck so bad. They were like, it's ok, we like him eventhough he is an aloof weirdo.


Dad put back the screen and things went back to normal or I guess I should say the new normal in this post-lump life. And then he did it again. Same screen, same banana plant, same neighbors rescued his ginger wide load. And then mom n dad was like, hmmm, I guess we should close the window.It seemed like that did the trick. Man, mom n dad is so smart sometimes.


But then a few months later they left for Christmas in Connecticut or as I like to say, Lumpmas is the Dumpest.While mom n dad was across the country wearing coats like that's fun we was kickin it with our homegirl Cara who seem to tolerate my idiot brothers like dad has tolerated mom all these years. I was havin a bomb ass time but I guess Dumbald wasn't cuz when Cara was out one day, Two-inch-inseam jumped through the plywood section of the window by the air conditioner (yeah I know another question could be why mom n dad still had the a/c in December).


The neighbors brought put-the-stubby-in-stubborn inside and let him play with their dog and also gave him chicken because I guess you get rewarded for breaking through wood with your face.
Mom n dad took out the air conditioner and closed the window (I told you they was geniuses) but everytime we hangin outside Doucheald go to the neighbors door or just walk right in if he can push the door open with his frying pan face and they seem to love him despite his Significant flaws so I say next time he decide to throw himself out the window onto dad's broken banana plant I hope the neighbors think about a permanent Dopeald  'doption.

Hate to admit it, but that booty be like an apple cinnamon Glade plug-in.

Can You Hear Me Now?

So for the last couple months years always, Cheesetwerp has been seriously stubborn.  Like, when we out for a walk (much shorter since why-can't-we-just-let-them-out-back Dad started taking us) Molestard gotta STOP in his tracks, then, with a glaring old man face he WAIT, and then he slowly walk to the tree he want to pee on, and then he sniff around for half a year, and then he go, sometimes.  I be like, Dude. Just tree n pee that shit it ain't like six steps and he look at me like I just spoke English.

He also don't come when still-fat-but-not-as-fat-but-still-fat Mom is calling yelling "Bedroom!" when it's time for us to get locked up for the day like prisoners or unloved dogs.  Sometimes she have to go stompin' around and find leaky eye Chest-durrrr who is usually hunting for crumbs in the kitchen (when his food bowl be full) or curled up looking old on MY favorite chair in da living room or that couple times he was INSIDE the cats' litterbox like it were his own private dog house havin' an all you can excrete cat turd buffet.

Anyhows, my points is it wasn't initially that 'prising when Mom was callin' his ass for a treat and he not comin'.  But then it was sort of weird cuz "treat" is the only word he knows besides (probably) his name.  And then it was like really weird cuz he was like right on the other side of the couch.

And that's when Mom n Dad figured out:  Holy Hearingaid, Chesturd is deaf.  Like, way deaf.  Like, he probably can't even hear when Mom is "asking" Dad to help with the lump person.  Mom n Dad was all confused like, How long this been going on?  N, How we didn't know?  N I was like, UH, HELLO?  You people has been lump-obsessed for the last three months and even before that it was a lot more, Let's buy these stupid tiny clothings and a lot less, Thank you for cleaning the sweat off my legs with your tongue, Stella.

But I digressin'.  Point is, Mom n Dad now tryin' to be a little more 'pathetic to when Chester be acting like he stubborn but really he can't be hearing.  However, does not having good ears mean you poop on the floor TWICE while Mom be leashing you up this Saturday cuz your butt get excited to go out and can't wait the 42 seconds 'til you outside?  'pparently so. 

Guess I'll just talk to you by kicking your ass.

Sexist Bitch in Eagle Rock

Yo.  Man, I been neglectin' this blog!  It's been almost a year since my last post so lemme fill yo asses in on what's up with my ass.  (Notice I said what's UP with my ass and not IN my ass so get the eff outta there Chester!)

First, mom got fat.  Like, more than regular mom fat.  Like, we was going to Elysian and mom was comin' home like, Guess what babe? (that's what she calls dad when she likes him) Chester is getting faster at the park!  He kept up so good!  And I was like, Umm, no.  Yo ass is getting slow.  Face the fats. 

It went on for months and months.  It got so bad she had to get all new clothes.  Excuse me?  This bitch has worn the same size coat since she was on the streets! 

Then one day mom was like, We need to move.  I'm so fat we need a second bedroom to put the fat into.  (Ok she didn't say that last part but why the heck else we gotta leave our den?) And dad was like, No, we can make things work here.  And mom was like, I always win.  And dad was like, No you don't ok yes you do. 

So mom found a place in Eagle Rock and dad was like, I don't like it.  And mom was like,......

So we moved to Eagle Rock.  And Mom got fatter and fatter until one day she was like, My water broke.  And I was like, Yeah just like when Chester's "water breaks" and everyone yells and we have to strip the bed and wash all the sheets.  Then Dad came home and was like, Is this really happening?  And Mom was like, Yes.  And then they left and came back two days later with some weird little lump person that they are calling "Aberdeen" even though Aberdeen is where me n the redheaded losers barked in the car while Mom n Dad was looking under some weird bridge and isn't a name at all. 

bridge.

lump.

Peace.

In 'n Out in 2013

Yo, so since I'm a crazy trend-setter here's my 13-item list of what's cool and what's not for 2013.

• OUT:  Eating Chester's ears; IN:  Eating Donald's neck.
• OUT: Barkin' at da mailman (even though he still sucks); IN:  Barkin' at small children (Why you start running crazy fast like that outta nowhere, fool?  Mad 'spicous.)  
• OUT:  My stupid cats; IN:  Dead cats
• OUT:  Runyon Canyon (poop, celebrities); IN:  Griffith Park (lizards, adventure)
• OUT: Mom; IN: Dad
• OUT: Hating bicyclists (unless they on the sidewalk, then they gonna get told); IN:  Hating skateboarders (Please note this will always be IN.)
• OUT: Sitting before we go out; IN: Tackling Chester while Mom try to put on his leash 'til he turds on the floor and Mom yells and he turds more but this time on the carpet where he's hiding
• OUT: Antlers; IN:  Marrow bones
• OUT: Sleepin' in the bed with everyone UGH; IN:  Lying down on Chester's head and pretending I didn't see him there even when he squeaks. (Shut-up you like it!)
• OUT: Chester's stupid blog; IN: Ahem.
• OUT:  Chester;  IN:  ALSO OUT:  Donald.
• OUT:  Beggin' for food; IN:  Takin' that crumb right off da table.  What. 
• OUT: Having a stupid old-man face (Sorry, Chester); IN: 

Always IN.

Road Trippin' in da 'pacifically Northwest

Last month me and Mom n Dad went on a kick-ass roadtrip.  It was freakin' crazy and awesome and would have been even better if I'd had the backseat to myself but hey, that which do not kill us makes us stronger and therefore better able to kill others. (Feel free to quote me.  Except I copyrighted that shiznit!)

We went 3,366 miles in 11 days.  Here is a run-down of what we did and how awesome or not-awesome it was.  Here's a quick hint:  The not-awesome parts usually involve people that isn't me. 

Days 1-3:  Los Angel-ass to Seattle.
Uh, yeah, that was a lot of driving AKA a lot of "Freakin MOVE, Chester, no not there, or there either, JEEZ."   Oregon was pretty rad, though.  We walked around Ashland (rad) and Portland's rose garden.  Both was cool except Mom kept insisting on taking all these pictures and posing our asses and I was like, Ummm, anyway, I'd way rather be lunging at that squirrel or barking at a mom with her kid.  And Dad was like, I think that's enough; Stella's breaking down. And Mom was like, It'll take -- STELLA, STOP! -- 5 minutes.  And Dad was like, If each one takes 5 minutes we'll never get to -- And Mom was like, Fine, whatever, I suck, let's eat.



 

Portland Rose Garden:  one rose, two thorns

Later, in Seattle, it was mostly sucky because we was locked in the crate all day together in a ghetto ass hotel room because Dad had to yell at the Jets all day Sunday and Mom had to make sure Dad didn't get arrested. Do you know what 8 hours IN A CRATE with these red-furred stepchildren is like?  My brain almost turned into a Chester's butthole-sized onion.  No wonder fetus-head Donald tried to jump out a window to escape da crate.  (Mom caught him.)

Days 4-6:  Seattle to Vancouver
Yeah, that's right.  This bitch went to Canada.  It was sorta crazy and Mom and Dad was scared we wasn't gonna get in cuz I would yell at the border guards but turns out the border guard was more concerned about Mom n Dad's handguns.  Mom had initially wanted to videotape our crossing for her demented amusement but was informed by my favorite Canadian friend, Christa, that the guards wouldn't like that so much.  So here is my memory of what went down at da border:

::: Mom pulls up, tries to hand the guard the passports through a tiny sliver of window:::
Border Guard (nasty): Something wrong with your window?
Mom:  No, I just -- I have the dogs, so.
Border Guard (nastier):  What, they're gonna jump out?
Mom: (laughing, with a look to Donald):  Well, maybe!
::: Mom hands him passports :::
Stella:  HI WHO ARE YOU NEVERMIND I DON'T CARE DON'T TALK TO MY MOM
Mom:  Do you want the paperwork for the dogs?
Border Guard:  Do you have any guns with you?
Stella:  WHAT DID I SAID DON'T TALK TO MY MOM
Mom:  What?  No. 
Border Guard:  Do you have any guns at home?
Mom:  No.
Stella:  STEP OFF MOUNTIE
::: The guard opens the gate without saying anything.  Mom drives through:::
Stella:  YUP.

After we got 'crossed the border, we had some good-ass times.  Mostly cuz Mom made the schedule and it was walking the entire city.  Dad didn't like Mom's schedule as much but by the time his complaining reached a fever pitch, we were already half way through Mom's psycho loop so it was shorter for us to just do things her way, what else is new.



Yeah, Chester and Donald, the camera is right there.



Canadian Geese in Canada:  Just annoying as American Canadian Geese



Stanley Park.  Cool except for being on the leash and with the blank-stare brothers ugh I hate them



Olympic Torch.  I won at everything except Sucking (swept by Mom, Dad, Chesturd and Don't-ald)

Days 7-9:  Vancouver to Coastal Oregon
Yo, sometimes I know I can be a bit crit-cal.  Wonder where I get that from?  (MOM.)  But this part of the trip was like crazy awesome.  We stayed at Mom's friend's beach house in Neskowin, Oregon and it.was.dope.  Like, rolling in a dead sea lion dope.  (Been there, done that, holmes!)  Normally, Mom doesn't like to bring me to the beach so much.  It is maybe because of this one time I protected Mom and Dad from a surfer, or maybe this other time(s) that I protected my water bowl from dogs that Mom says was just sniffing but I say they was casin' that shit and water is a valuable resource maybe if it was Mom's Diet Dr. Pepper she'd understand, JEEZ.  Anyways, for some crazy reason, there wasn't anyone else on da beach, so me and Queefter and Doh-nald all got to run around and just be chill and it was rad. 


Dunce-ald drinking salt water, me looking fly, butthead beagle hunting dead crab

Eff making sand castles, this is way funner.

We had such a good-ass time, Mom and Dad didn't even notice when big-boned Donald disappeared in the sand dunes and slower-than-stop Chester ate like 12 pounds of dead crab and other seafood and then had a face that was even stupider than his normal face until he puked up about 11 pounds of dead crab and then seemed to feel better (but his face was still stupid).
 
Days 10-11:  Coastal Oregon to Coastal CA to Home Sweet Echo Parque
I totally didn't want to leave Oregon.  It was probably like Mom feels when she has to leave her plate. But then we got to da Redwoods.  And WHOA.  There was trees there that was older than old-face Chester.  By, like 3,000 years.  I tried to play it cool but DANG I couldn't freakin' help myself I had to stand up and check out that shit.

First we went to da Trees of Mystery which was awesome cuz I could go.  I was hoping they'd have a rule against assfaces but once again, this bitch was outta luck like Mom's outta pants that fit.  We even got to ride in a gondola which was cooler than eatin' the inside of Chester's ears.  The best part of the gondola was when we was gettin' on to go back down and Chestwerp wouldn't get on and the thing was in constant motion so you gotta get on and the guy runnin' the thing had to pick his big bunghole up and hand him to Dad who almost dropped him but didn't (can't get lucky every time I guess).  


hard to look cool when you are so freaking PSYCHED



There is a house carved into a tree.  I want to live there.  Alone.  Dad can visit.  I'll meet Mom for coffee.

Then as we was driving back to my hood, we stopped to see the golden gate bridge.  Chester got excited because he thought it meant we was rich.  Sometimes I forget how much I hate him.  Actually, wait, no, I never do.


Golden Gate Chola

Anyways, overall da trip was rad, even though it was a bit hard to catch my zzzs with Chestard's salmon breath in my face and Donald's giganto blockhead blockin' my view. 


Donald's head is the Sun, only a Sun that, like, destroys life.