Showing posts with label Terre Haute Adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Terre Haute Adventures. Show all posts

Monday, March 8, 2010

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.

Monday, August 10, 2009

I'm Not a Football Fan

Sarah (the asshole) is a HUGE football fan. Unfortunately, this means that she thinks I am a football fan, too. Newsflash, asshole: I'm a dog. Why the hell would I want to watch a bunch of grown men hitting each other?

Despite my lack of desire to watch football, Sarah dragged me to Colts training camp this weekend, because Colts training camp happens to be in Terre Haute. Now, Sarah is not even a Colts fan (if she's watching football, it's Notre Dame or the Bears), but she said "in August, football is football," and so I found myself dragged off to training camp Saturday morning, when I could have been lying around at home taking a nap.


See me? I'm watching anything but that stupid football. Sarah could have at least bought me a hot dog or something, but why would she do something nice for me?

You know who else I blame for this? Peyton fucking Manning. I hate his stupid commercials. Of course, Sarah thinks he's the second funniest thing in the world (second after torturing me, which she obviously finds to be the most fucking hilarious thing in the world). Like we would go watch the stupid Colts if his ass wasn't there. God, my life sucks.