I Do Not Need Another Nickname

So, for those who are not aware, Sarah (the asshole) got me right after a trip to New Orleans. Rather than give me a nice, normal dog name, she decided to name me "Tchoupitoulas." Yeah, it's stupid, but what can you do? Until they have name change court for dogs, I'm stuck. Plus, it's not like Sarah is going to call me by a four syllable name every time she yells at me, so I am "Choppy."

Actually, I don't really mind "Choppy," which is what everyone calls me. I mean, seriously, it sounds kind of bad ass. Like, I might take a bite out of you. Or something to do with motorcycles. Or I like to make illegal football blocks on you. Unfortunately, Sarah is not content to call me Choppy, so I get a whole host of other names.

If it's not Choppy, I get "Pork Chop" and "Chop Suey." Yes, asshole, I realize that I am fat, I don't need you to remind me with a nickname that involves food. And Chopster, which is stupid, too, but at least it doesn't imply that I eat a lot (even if that is the case).

This morning, though, the asshole came up with a new one: Sir Shits-A-Lot. Seriously??? Seriously???? Seriously?????

First, asshole, I'm a chick, not a mans. If anything, it should be Lady Shits-A-Lot.

Second, just because I took two craps in the house this morning (and one outside) does not mean that I deserve this nickname. I mean, seriously, it was raining and craptastic outside this morning. Where the hell was I supposed to go? And it's not like three times is excessive, I'm sure Sarah goes at least that many times a day (she certainly spends enough time in there to poop three times).

On the plus side, I took two craps in the house, which really pissed Sarah off. It might be worth the nickname if I don't have to go outside to do my business.

Monday Does Not Suck For Me

You know what sort of weekends that I hate? The ones where Sarah (the asshole) doesn't leave Terre Haute. I mean, there are a couple good things about staying in Terre Haute (I go to the pet store, I don't have to hold it for hours on end while we are driving), but it pretty much sucks.

This weekend sucked even more than usual, because Sarah spent most of the weekend at home doing home improvement projects, and we didn't even get close to the pet store. For me, this means lots of time in the fucking crate. Sarah claims it's because she doesn't want me to get hurt while she does stuff, but I know better. She just doesn't want anything to do with me (I can't stress this enough: she is an asshole).

Eventually, after what seemed like eons in the crate, Sarah let me outside to see what she had been doing:

Turns out, the asshole had been tearing up the astroturf on her front porch. She seems to think it screamed "old people live here," but I was definitely in the "it's like bringing the toilet up to the porch" camp. Of course, it goes without saying that I lost this argument, and the astroturf came up (but not before I got one last urination out on the stuff).

I Want to Fly!

Oh, SHIT YEAH:



An airline that flies pets? Consider me a fan. They even have a website. I mean, seriously, riding in a plane would be like the coolest fucking car ride ever.

Sadly, they don't fly out of Indy, which is super close to Terre Haute, but it would be totally worth it to go to Chicago if I got to take a plane ride to Cali. I mean, helloooo, with these good looks, I was born to be in pictures. I bet I would step off of the plane and some producer would point at me and say "Dah-ling, you would be perfect for the lead in my next movie!"

Of course, like Sarah (the asshole) would ever spring for tickets on a pet airline. I'm sure she would be perfectly fine with having me ride in the cargo hold like a piece of luggage. In fact, I bet she will someday take me on a plane ride just so she can make me ride in the cargo hold. She is that much of an asshole.

Dogs in the News: East St. Louis Version

How come I can't be so lucky as to be a dog nearly repossessed for non-payment?

Oh, that's right. I didn't cost $5,000, like the dog in this story. I'm all paid up. Seriously, people, $5,000? That's a lot of fucking squeaky toys. Next time, go to this place called the pound. Look at the cute sort of dogs who come from there:


P.S. - East St. Louis, if you end up having the dog repossessed, I'll help you come up with a trumped up charge against Sarah (the asshole) and you can come get me to work for you. As previously chronicled, I would love to be a bad ass mo fo police dog.

Back to My Craptastic Life

Sarah (the asshole) has returned from her trip to Notre Dame, and, unsurprisingly, my life has returned to craptastic-ness.

While Sarah was gone, I managed to get the carpet in the back room looking much better - lots of muddy paw prints, chewed up sticks ground into the carpet, etc. Definitely an improvement over its formerly cleanly state. However, it only took Sarah about ten seconds after getting home to pull out the vacuum cleaner and start vacuuming. Even worse, once she was done with that, she got out the steam cleaner and ran that. Seriously, asshole, do you know how long it takes me to get the carpet in that sort of order? It's going to take hours of backyard digging in the mud and searching for sticks to get it back in shape. I have better things to do with my life, especially because I'm pretty sure Sarah has a new pair of shoes somewhere that I have not even gotten close to.

But then, in a horrible turn of events, she took me to the vet AGAIN. How many fucking times a month do I need to go to the vet? It's not like I'm sick or anything. And, of course after getting a shot (probably done solely to piss me off, because I've already had about a million shots and I'm only four and a half months old), the vet went in with his shit scooper to get a sample. Seriously, what does he think he's going to find up there? It's not like I recently started shitting diamonds.

And you know what else? Puppy training is canceled tonight, so I don't even get that one small pleasure out of life. I'm sure Sarah is highly fucking amused by how craptastic my life is right now. Asshole.

The Greatest Day EVER!

Oh man, for a week that started out so craptastic, it has turned into a GREAT week. First, I destroyed the flip flops. Then, I managed to find Sarah's iPod earphones and destroy those. Last night, while Sarah was watching television, I snuck into the kitchen and found some hamburger buns she had on the counter and tore those apart, too!

But then, this morning, I found out something so fucking awesome, I still am almost in disbelief that it is actually happening. You see, Sarah had those hamburger buns because she is going up to the Notre Dame spring football game. I sort of assumed that she was taking me with her (because, obviously, hanging out with tens of thousands of drunk assholes is my idea of a good time...not!), but it turns out, I GET TO STAY HOME!

Greatest. Day. Ever.

That's right, for the entire weekend, I will be free of that asshole, able to run around and break rules that the people who are taking care of me don't even know exist! It's like God has finally decided to throw me a bone. You should see the list of plans I have for the weekend: chew up as many pairs of shoes as possible, jump on the couch, dig holes in the backyard, refuse to follow commands. It's going to be unbelievably awesome!


So, so happy.

Dogs in the News: Russian Subway Edition

I saw Sarah (the asshole) looking at an article on Russian stray dogs this morning. I have to say, the article was pretty fucking cool. For example, it contained this picture:

If that's the way things are in Russia, that's awesome. Person on floor, dog on bench. The way things ought to be, if you ask me. Not like Sarah ever would care about my thoughts and desires, but a bitch can hope.

Also, there was some dog porn video at the end. For free! That's worth a trip to the website alone. It's a little bit short, but if you like small dog on big dog action (SDOBD, for those who prefer its acronym), it should float your boat.

Unfortunately, not everything about this article was good, as it seems to have given Sarah the idea that she should take me on the el next time we are in Chicago. Newsflash, asshole: I don't do public transportation. While I may complain about your piece of shit car on a regular basis, it is infinitely better than public transportation. Seriously, have you seen some of the people on there? I could get fleas just by sitting on some of those seats. And do you really want to deal with a flea-ridden dog? I highly doubt it. So, asshole, just try to make me ride the el. You will only try it once.

Success!!!

So, I started feeling better sometime yesterday afternoon. It's a good thing, too, because Sarah (the asshole) got home from work and left her flip-flops lying around in the front hall, and then she went upstairs to do God knows what (though, if I had to guess, whatever she was doing probably had something to do with making my life as miserable as possible). Having the perfect opportunity to complete my previously plotted destruction of the flip-flops/dog toys, I took full advantage:

As you can see, the front, toe separator is no longer attached to the rest of the flip-flop. As I bit off the connector, it can't be reattached. Success!!!

Deviously, I only went after one. This doubly pisses off Sarah, because she's cheap and hates to get rid of something perfectly useful, which the non-destroyed flip-flop still is. So, so satisfying.

To end, I will quote that lyrical poet, Ice Cube: "I can't believe - today was a good day."

I Feel Like Crap

Oh. My. God.

I don't know what I ate yesterday that made me feel like this, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the giant ham bone. Or the dirt. Or the cat feces. Or the stinky fountain water. Those things were all pretty sweet tasting. I'm guessing it was my nasty dog food. That stuff is crap.

Anyway, I was up all night with what can best be described as "projectile poop" (I would call it shit, but I like the alliteration). Nice and liquid-y, it got EVERYWHERE.

Unfortunately, despite the somewhat cool nature of the problem, I still kind of want to die, I feel so gross. Sarah (the asshole) took me for a walk this morning, and I didn't even have the energy to act up. Much.

Actually, the only thing that is making me feel slightly better is watching Sarah have to clean up the projectile poop. That's actually pretty fucking cool. Also, I kept her up all night howling and crying every time I went, so even though I didn't get any sleep, she didn't either. That's the way things should be.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I see a wall that doesn't appear to have any poo on it. I think I can remedy that situation.

Another Holiday, Another Outfit

Oh, Jesus, look at what things have come to here:


That's right, Easter has now devolved into people dressing up dogs in bunny ears. Somehow, I don't think this is what You had in mind back when You did that whole rising from the dead thing.

So fucking humiliating (yeah, that's right, I even swear when it comes to Easter. I'll give you one guess as to what I won't be giving up for Lent any fucking time soon).


Happy Easter. And be thankful you aren't me.

Dogs and Umbrellas Are a Poor Combination

I saw Sarah (the asshole) eying this the other day:


Oh no. Oh HELLS no.

You know, here I thought the fucking rain coat was bad. Leave it to Sarah to find something even worse than a dog rain coat to humiliate me with. Seriously? A dog umbrella? With a matching one for you?

Do you know what Sarah's reaction to this was? "I wish it came in pink, because then it would match my rain coat!"

Someone, please put me out of my misery.

On the plus side, it could be worse:

Sarah could carry me around in a sack around her neck. This may be the first time I'm happy that I'm a wee bit big boned.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I thought I had that whole collar thing licked. I was wrong, oh so wrong:

Do not adjust your computer screen. That is, indeed, a pink collar with little flowers on it. I didn't think it could get worse than the pink collar with fake diamond studs, but leave it to Sarah (the asshole) to find something even worse than that to wear.

The worst part? Sarah seems to have wised up since I destroyed my last collar, and now she won't put me in the crate with my collar on (note for the record that Sarah did not do this because she was worried about my safety and the warning on the crate not to put me in there with a collar on. Nope, this is solely a financial decision for her - she doesn't want to keep buying me collars). Of course, she leaves me in the crate for eight hours a day, so I have plenty of fucking time to come up with a way to destroy this new monstrosity of a collar. It's only a matter of time...

I Do Not Need a Collar

Haha! I have succeeded in one of my recent goals:

Destruction of my collar! Sarah (the asshole) seems to think that it's a good idea to make me wear a fucking collar all the time. You know what I think about my collar? It's a way to humiliate me and keep me subservient to her stupid ideas of what I should do with my life. Asshole!

But the other day, Sarah put me in the crate with my collar on (this, despite the warning on the crate not to put me in there with a collar on. Asshole! Do you want me to get it caught on the side of the crate and strangle and die? Actually, you probably do want me to strangle and die. Super asshole!). So you know what I did? I wiggled out of that sucker, and then chewed it up!

Seriously, what did Sarah expect me to do? Just wear the fucking thing? Without attempting to destroy it? The thing was pink with diamond studs. There was no way I was going to wear that thing a second longer than I had to. Asshole.

That's Not a Shoe, It's a Toy

Sarah (the asshole) is always throwing a fit when I grab the best toy in the house:


You know what I have to say about this? If it's made out of colorful plastic rubbery crap, it's not a shoe, it's a dog toy.

Normally, Sarah wears stiletto heels wherever she goes. And I mean everywhere. She has climbed a rock wall in them and pitched a tent on a camping trip in them. Yes, a fucking tent. In heels. I can't believe this is who I have to put up with on a daily basis.

That said, I have no trouble with high heels. Those are real shoes, unlike those flip-flops. But here's the problem - Sarah never takes me out for walks in heels. Nope, I only get to go on walks with her while she wears these disgusting dog toys on her feet. Something about me not walking well enough on a leash yet to take me on a walk and risk having her fall on her ass while she is in her heels (Haha! That would be hilarious! It might be worth walking better on the leash solely to act up the moment Sarah decides to walk me in her heels). So, I have to walk next to her while she looks like a dumbass in her dog toy flip-flops.

God, I have to get my teeth on those again. They need to be destroyed.

I Hate April Fools Day

So, I saw this over at the blog of Martha Stewart's asshole dogs yesterday:

My immediate thought was that I had been pulled in by a stupid April Fools Day joke. I mean, seriously, who has a Faberge statue of their dog?

Evidently, Martha Stewart.

Seriously, this was not an April Fools Day joke. I mean, I should have known from the first moment I saw the post, because (a) those smug little bastard dogs could not have come up with something so subtle and crafty for a joke, and (b) Martha Stewart has no sense of humor.

So, boys and girls, Martha Stewart owns a Faberge statue of one of her dogs. It's not a good fucking thing.

I hate April Fools Day.

P.S. - I am totally obsessed with that stupid website of Martha Stewart's dogs. I hate those smug little bastards, and not just because they're smug little bastards. I also hate them because they're lucky bastards who get to live at Martha Stewart's house, where I'm sure there are no assholes like Sarah around to pester them all the time. And they're loaded. I mean, for Chrissakes, their owner went to jail for like a year, and they managed to get by just fine. If Sarah went to jail, I would be up shit creek, because the stupid cupboard where she keeps my food and treats is locked up tight, and there isn't anyone else around to open it up (stupid Sarah and her lack of a mans).

Also, Sarah seems to love Martha Stewart, so that's enough reason to hate her and anything involved with her.