The Dangers of Sarah's Cooking

Once again, the stupidity of Sarah (the asshole) has caused me to have a horrible weekend.

This all started Friday night. Sarah decided to make herself supper. Now, Sarah may suck at 99% of life, but she does manage to cook halfway decently. Normally, this causes me to complain, because she hardly ever gives me anything that she makes. The skinny bitch eats everything herself. She must have worms or something, because I have no fucking clue how she manages to stay skinny. Meanwhile, I am forced to eat this hard-as-rocks shit dog food (if “food” is the proper term for what I have to eat).

However, something Sarah made Friday night gave her food poisoning. While normally this would make me super happy, and give me wonderful dreams about what I would do if I got to go live with some other people, this was pretty much the worst fucking timing ever. You see, on Saturday, we were supposed to go to Bark in the Park, which, from the advertisements on television, looked like a fucking awesome event, where you get to take a nice walk outside, get treats, and see lots of other dogs. But instead of getting to go to Bark in the Park, I had to sit around the house while Sarah barfed. So I can only assume that Bark in the Park was as awesome as advertised, because I didn’t get to go.

Of course, it was the first time ever I was happy that Sarah didn’t give me any of her fucking food. I hate barfing.

A Tornado? Seriously?

OK, so, Sarah (the asshole) took me to Wisconsin for the 4th of July weekend, which was, obviously, awesome. Dog park, lots of people to pester for food, cats to chase up trees, and three straight days where I could avoid Sarah to my heart's content.

Unfortunately, something this awesome could not possibly last (at least, not as long as Sarah is in charge). So, today, Sarah packed up the car and we headed back to Terre Haute. Now, usually, I just pretty much sleep for the entire car ride home. I mean, what the hell does Sarah expect me to do for those five hours? Stare out the window at corn? B-O-R-I-N-G! At least if I am sleeping, I might have an interesting dream where I get to lock Sarah up in the crate at night, and I get to sleep on the comfy bed instead.

Today, though, just for shits and giggles, Sarah decided to liven up the trip home - by DRIVING THROUGH A FUCKING TORNADO. Yes. Seriously. A fucking tornado. Don't believe me? Well, like the dumbass she is, Sarah stopped (after we had driven past the thing) and took a picture:



Of course, being a dumbass, Sarah didn't realize she was driving us through a tornado until after we were past it. Because, you know, the fact that every other car was pulled over to the side of the road wasn't a clue to her. Or, you know, that funnel thing in the sky didn't give her the slightest indication that something was amiss. In case I didn't already suspect that Sarah was trying to kill me, this would confirm it.

Evidence of Sarah's Stupidity

On our trip to Chicago this weekend, Sarah (the asshole) managed to out-dumbass even herself. And let me tell you, I know from personal experience that out-dumbassing Sarah is a tough task. She's probably the only person who could actually do it.

On Friday, after leaving me in my kennel for at least three fucking hours (thanks, asshole, I really wanted to sit in the kennel after sitting in the car for three and half hours), Sarah finally decided that maybe she should come home from the bar and let me out of the kennel so I wouldn't have to piss on myself. We were staying at her brother and sister-in-law's townhouse, and Sarah got the code to get into their garage before she left the bar. So, Sarah manages not to forget that number in between the bar and their house (which is somewhat shocking to me), and gets into the house and lets me out.

At which point, the house alarm goes off.

Now, I have to admit, I kind of lost my cool at this point, and ran out the open garage door toward the busy street next to the house (in retrospect, I should have stayed there and made fun of Sarah). But seriously, that thing was fucking loud! I have sensitive ears. There was no way I was going to stay in that house a second longer than I had to. After a few minutes (and two frantic text messages to her sister-in-law), Sarah managed to turn the thing off. So, all was happy and good, right?

Not a fucking chance. Because this is when the CPD shows up. Yes, the police. I'm still running around outside (without my leash - score!), and Sarah is still feeling the effects of three and a half hours of bar time. She drunkenly attempted to explain the situation to the CPD, while I ran around, hoping that maybe (a) Sarah would get arrested for burglary for breaking into the apartment and I would be adopted by the CPD and become a bad ass mo fo police dog, or (b) Sarah would get arrested for public intoxication and I would be adopted by the CPD and become a bad ass mo fo police dog, or (c) Sarah would get arrested for not having me on a leash and I would be adopted by the CPD and become a bad ass mo fo police dog.

But noooo, instead, the police officers start joking around with Sarah about what happened (stupid skinny bitch, soon you're going to be too old and busted to flirt your way out of trouble). And to add insult to injury, she asks if either of them saw me go potty. And one of the officers tells her that he did, indeed, see me do a number two. Seriously? A number two? Are we in kindergarten here, assholes? And why the fuck are you watching me go to the bathroom? That's sick and twisted right there.

Anyway, Sarah didn't get in trouble, I was not adopted by the CPD and did not become a bad ass mo fo police dog, and I was humiliated. I'm sure Sarah was real fucking proud of the evening.