St. Patrick's Day Sucks

You know, at least if Sarah (the asshole) had been drunk, there would have been some sort of reason for her to have thought doing this to me was a good idea:


Of course, she wasn't drunk when she took this picture, and even more unfortunately, neither was I. That's not beer there, it's just water with food coloring in it.

Even worse, I'm sure I'll be forced to watch The Boondock Saints when Sarah gets home from work today. She'll probably have a beer, and I'm sure she won't share with me (she'll probably try to foist more green water on me).

I hate St. Patrick's Day.

Rules Are Not For Me

Sarah (the asshole) has some completely arbitrary rules around the house. One rule that really pisses me off involves the two couches in the house. In the TV room, we have a hard, uncomfy couch without pillows. In the living room, we have a soft, super comfy couch with a bunch of pillows.

Now, Sarah only lets me go on one of these couches. I'm sure you're familiar enough with Sarah's asshole ways to know that I'm not allowed on the comfy couch, even though Sarah rarely uses it, AND it has a great view out the front window of the house.

Heavenly napping on the good couch - so close, yet so far away.

Luckily for me, Sarah is gone at least 8 hours a day at work. So, in the morning, after watching Sarah leave and making sure that the coast is clear, I jump right on up on the couch and settle in for a nice nap. Now, it's all fine and dandy when Sarah is at work and I can just snooze away. But when she comes home, I'm forced to obey the couch rule and only sleep on the uncomfy couch.

Admittedly, sometimes I try and break the rules, like when Sarah is watching TV and super caught up in paternity tests on Maury (she has AWFUL taste in television, like so many other things). But the moment that she gets up off of her butt and catches me, all hell breaks loose. She immediately yells at me, like I've eaten a pair of shoes or something really bad. I'm always thinking, chill the fuck out, Sarah, I'm just lying on the couch. It's not the end of the world.

I guess I really shouldn't expect anything else from Sarah, though. She is, after all, an asshole.

A Short-Lived Victory

Haha! I completely messed with Sarah (the asshole) earlier this week! You see, Sarah spends far too much time on her computer, when a good owner would spend that time taking me out for walks or to the pet store or for a car ride. So, Thursday night, I pretended I was chewing on a toy, but instead, I was chewing right through the computer cord:

See that? That's the cord in two pieces. I even did it without getting a big shock (trust me, I have some experience in this particular subject. It involved Sarah's Playstation - of course, that was totally worth the shock to get Sarah to actually pay some attention to me for once).

I figured this would get me at least a weekend of Sarah being forced to do fun things with me, but I wasn't counting on Amazon being able to ship a new one so that it would arrive on a Saturday. Turns out, Amazon employs a bunch of bastards who wish to facilitate Sarah's assholishness, and they have Saturday delivery. So, of course, Sarah got the Saturday delivery, and I got to spend my Saturday watching her play on the computer.

Next time, I chew up the cord on a Friday night after the deadline for Saturday delivery has passed, and ensure that Sarah has to play with me all weekend.

I Need My Morning Beauty Walk!

As I have mentioned before, I live across the street from a park.

Beautiful me in front of one of the signs for the park.

It's a pretty cool place to live across the street from, except for the squirrels. Plus, when Sarah (the asshole) and I go for walks, there's almost always something interesting going on that at least momentarily distracts me from how much my life usually sucks.

Now, normally, Sarah takes me for two walks a day. Despite the fact that these walks are entirely too short and require me to be on a leash, they are definitely the highlight of my otherwise shitastic life. One of the best parts of our morning walk is that we get to see the park's caretaker. Unlike Sarah, she appreciates my awesomeness, and gives me several treats every morning. Obviously, this makes her awesome.

Sadly for poor little me, the caretaker doesn't work in the park all winter, because there isn't enough work to keep her busy. This obviously sucks for me. But then today, guess who came back to the park? The caretaker!

This is pretty much going to be the highlight of my year, and I can hardly contain my excited pee while Sarah is getting ready this morning. Considering what happened shortly after she got ready, I should have let the excited pee flow freely.

You see, Sarah skipped our morning walk! The asshole!

Sarah excused this inexcusable behavior by claiming that we were in the middle of a downpour and she didn't want to go out in the rain and get her work clothes all wet. Newsflash, asshole: you could put on old clothes and carry an umbrella and not get wet! Did you ever stop to think about that solution? Actually, Sarah probably did think of this solution, but thought it would be fun to torture me by making me stay inside and watch the park's caretaker give away my treats to other, less-deserving dogs in the park. She's just that kind of asshole.

I Told You So

In case you had any doubt about squirrels being little bastards, I present this article for your reading displeasure. A little advance tidbit from the article in picture form:

Animals That Suck: Squirrels

There are a lot of cool things about spring. For example, the backyard becomes a muddy mess, which means that whenever I come in from outside, I track mud all over the light carpets. Sarah (the asshole) hates this. So, obviously, I do it as often as possible.

However, the return of spring also brings the return of one of my most bitter enemies: the squirrel.

Here's one of the little bastards on the bird feeder next door.

I live across the street from a park, which sounds pretty fucking cool, until you realize that I only get to go there twice a day when Sarah deigns to take me out for walks. The rest of the day, I'm forced to stare at the other dogs getting to walk and play in the park with their super cool owners, while I sit - abandoned by my own asshole owner - like a prisoner in my own home.

But the biggest problem with the park is that it is infested with squirrels. Like, hundreds of the little bastards. They run around and act like they own the place, with smug little squirrel smiles on their faces.

You know who could wipe those smug smiles off of their faces? Me. You know how? By chasing those bastards all over the place. But you know who won't let me do this? Sarah. You know why? Because she's an asshole.

So, instead of me getting to solve the park's squirrel problem, Sarah drags me around the park like a little bitch, forced to watch those smug bastards instead of chasing after them, like I should obviously be allowed to do. It sucks.

But you know what sucks more? The squirrels come over to my house, sit just out of reach on the backyard fence and fucking laugh at me. I'm telling you, they're just little bastards.

Dogs in the News: Jamaican Dogsled Edition

Dude, there's a Jamaican dogsled team! Well, I guess it's less of a team than a dude with some dogs. And a sled. But still, pretty fucking cool.

You know, even though it would be a really cold job, being a dog on the Jamaican dogsled team would definitely beat my life with Sarah (the asshole), even if the dude is sponsored by Jimmy Buffett and I would have to listen to that shit while we trained. He seriously cannot listen to as much Jimmy Buffett as she does. I swear, sometimes I think that if I hear Fins one more time, I'm going to go shark on Sarah, and not in a pleasant way for her.

Babies > Adults

Sarah (the asshole) sprang a new one on me this weekend: she brought friends over who have a baby. Yes, a real, live, potential future asshole (though, as it is not being raised by Sarah, the chances of that happening are far less than they would be if she was raising the kid).

A picture of me in my younger, baby days. Adorable, if I do say so myself.

Now, despite my hatred of Sarah, I'm actually pretty chill with most humans. After all, they may offer to take me away from Sarah, and give me the awesome life I fucking deserve. Of course, the chances of this happening are probably nil, as Sarah is under the fucking delusion that I actually like living with her. I don't know how she is still under this delusion, as just yesterday morning I left her a little present when she didn't wake up early enough for our morning walk (and by "present," I mean a stinking pile of dog shit).

I will, however, count my blessings on this front, as Sarah has not managed to breed yet (I can't even imagine the sort of assholery a child of hers would have to put up with. On the plus side, if she ever does find a mans who will put up with her shit (unlikely), I'll have someone to commiserate with). However, she does have cooler friends who do have kids, and two of them were over this weekend with their 1 year old.

Now, I have to tell you, there are a shitload of things to like about babies. First, they spill food all over themselves on a regular basis, which gives a dog like me ample opportunity to sample various sorts of human food (which, obviously, is far better than the hard kibble shit that Sarah forces me to eat).

Second, they have the whole "make adults do whatever you want them to" thing down. They cry, and adults come running. Even better, they're often offering food! I have to figure out how they do this shit. I mean, seriously, if I barked as much as a baby cries, I'm pretty sure I would be on a one-way train back to the animal shelter (and, as much as I fucking hate Sarah, I really would rather not take my chances somewhere like that. At least I'm pretty sure Sarah is not going to kill me. The emphasis being on "pretty sure"). But a baby cries, and here comes the parent brigade, with bottles and toys and all sorts of good shit. I need to figure that one out (though I'm pretty sure nothing I could do would cause Sarah to do anything this cool).

Third, they smell AWESOME. Obviously, there is the food mentioned above, but they also smell like poo, which is great! I swear, I roll in just a little bit of shit, and I am in the bathtub ten minutes later. A baby poos all over itself on like an hourly basis, and people just wipe that up, smack another diaper on the thing, and let it go back to whatever the hell it was doing before.

As you can tell, I am a fan of babies. Unfortunately, this one went back home after only like 10 minutes of me getting to play with it. Of course it went home quickly. Like Sarah would fucking let me enjoy something like a baby for any longer than that. Such an asshole.

You Don't Want to See This

I'm going to fucking kill Sarah. This isn't even asshole behavior. This is so far beyond asshole behavior, I'm going to have to come up with a new word for it.

Now, I'm a healthy young pup, and as such, I have what I will call "urges." Last year for Easter, Sarah bought me a pink stuffed bunny (of course it was pink. That woman likes pink far too fucking much). Now, this bunny is absolutely perfect for one thing, and that one thing has given the bunny its common name - "hump bunny."

Now, Sarah may be an asshole, but I thought she was a decent person. Turns out, she's not. You see, the other day, Sarah took my picture in flagrante delicto with the hump bunny:

Not. Fucking Cool. What kind of sick perv takes a picture of a dog humping a stuffed bunny? You know Sarah is probably selling this shit on the internet and funding her "Buy Choppy stupid fucking sweaters" fund.

I just fucking hope that she doesn't find her video camera, because you know she would video this shit. Asshole.

The Way Things Ought to Be

I have many, many recurring dreams about potential role reversals involving Sarah (the asshole). Like, instead of her driving, I drive the car. And she gets put in the kennel instead of me. And I get to sleep in bed instead of her. You get the point.

It turns out, some dogs are lucky bastards and actually get to live out this fantasy, by mushing humans:


Here's the article. And, as if this wasn't fucking cool enough already, it was sponsored by Snausages. Those things are fabulous. Almost as good as Beggin' Strips.

Pink Is the New A**hole

Dear PetSmart:

Please stop putting dog clothing on sale. I'm owned by an asshole named Sarah who is all over the PetSmart dog clothing clearance rack like pit bull on Mike Vick (yeah, it's a bad one. I'm not a fucking comedian here).

I look like the sort of tool who would show up on hipster puppies. Sarah even took this picture at an angle, which makes it even worse. Next thing you know, she's going to start refusing to capitalize my name and making me drink PBR (even though you know she's saving the good beer for herself).

At least could you keep the pink stuff away from the clearance rack? Pink is the new asshole. Any hipster knows that.

Licks and butt sniffs,

Choppy

I've Got Your Beads Right Here

Sarah (the asshole) takes an annual trip to Mardi Gras. Last year, she came home and got me, starting me down the terrible, horrible path that my life has taken. She even named me after a street in New Orleans - Tchoupitoulas - which was fucking stupid, because no one is ever going to refer to me as Tchoupitoulas, so I'm now Choppy.

Anyway, Sarah thought it would be a good fucking idea to dress me up in a boa and beads before she left, like I am some floozy who will just show her doggie girl parts if asked. Look at this assholery:

I look like a fucking tool. Who puts a boa on a dog? As you can see, I was giving her the evil eye in this picture.

Two good things have come of this trip, though. First, Sarah smashed her finger between a ladder and her car getting ready, which required her to poke a pin in her fingernail (Yes, I take pleasure in her pain.). Second, I get to go to my friends' house, which is, of course, much more fun than my normal life.

Anyway, happy fucking Mardi Gras.

Dogs Should Not Dance

Rumor has it that Sarah (the asshole) wants me to dance with her, like the poor dog in this video:



I can't even begin to tell you how wrong this is. And the worst part is, you know she'll want me to wear an outfit like that. I hate her so much.

Another Cool Dog Job

So, I have discovered yet another awesome job. Of course, like Sarah (the asshole) would ever let me do something like join the Army. Because that would be awesome, and Sarah is anything but.

Torture. Pure Torture.

So, Sarah (the asshole) got a gift for Christmas: a camera. However, it's not just any camera. It's a camera that hooks onto my collar, and takes pictures every few minutes. Sarah fucking loves this thing, and I have to bear the consequences.

Like today, for instance. Sarah put the camera on me, so she could see what I did all day while she was at work. Obviously, I do shit while she is at work that I am not allowed to do while she is at home. Before the camera, I got away with all sorts of shit. Not any more. Sarah got to see me lying all over the good couch, getting it nice and furry and smelling like peachy me.

Now, this Big Brother shit would be bad enough, but Sarah has seen fit to start a fucking blog and put my antics all over the internet for the world to see. Such an asshole.