January 25th, 2012

Dear Diary,

Socks consumed: 3
Underwear consumed: 1 (but it was a thong, so really, .5)
Treats consumed: Why do I bother counting?? It's so depressing.
Injustices: Lost count, but an educated guess would be 637
Stupid shirts forced to wear: 1

DO YOU SEE THIS??! My Mother Person forced me (and the whole bloomin' household) to wear goofy shirts to support "her team." I would like to note that I don't force her to wear "LET'S GO BACON!!" shirts, or "SOCKS ARE YUMMY!" Ok, she may actually have the bacon shirt... But I don't force her to wear it. I have several issues with this forced clothing. 1, not my coloring. Grey?? Honestly. 2, the cut. This is a v-neck. A V-NECK. I look like a common mall-goer in Northern Jersey! It was terrible!!! My hairy chest bulging out. Embarrassing. I never ever wished in my life that I had a dickie until then. A nice mock turtle neck? Something. Terrible. Misery.

As if that wasn't enough, Mother Person starts rolling out a feast for all the sports show watchers. This lady hasn't make anything more exotic than a Hot Pocket since Mini Person came along but that day? She made a lasagna, from SCRATCH and what did I get??? Hmm? Nothing? Did you guess nothing?! That would be correct. INJUSTICE!!!!!!

Ok, well, I did get this....

That would be one of those condescending toys that have this "treat" in a ball that's impossible to eat and is suppose to keep me "occupied" so I don't cause "problems." (Note Mini Person's shirt... He didn't even know the propaganda machine that she turned him into for an evening. Sad.) Can you see the plate in the foreground? That dish holds delicious chips and dips, but I'm relegated to the FLOOR to eat this meat lick ridiculousness. Say it with me now... Injustice.

So, that night, I threw up a 3:34am. Neener neener neener.

But alas, not only did I interrupt the people's sleep, but it wore me out.

Gosh, I'm cute when I'm cozy. I wish I had a Queen bed all to my own all the time. Someday... Someday.... On my wienerdog farm where meat licks are outlawed and lasagna is served every hour on the hour.

Sigh.

Sincerely,
Beans A. Wienerdog

January 9th, 2012

Dear Diary,

Injustices: 3905
Periods of Misery: 85
Treats: 2 (Ok, maybe more, but I can barely tell I ate them)

Another year shot in the ass. And here I am, still without any real estate holdings. The sun still moves. Vacuums still exist. I expected more for 2012. Thankfully, I can always count on Mother Person and Soft Touch to provide entertainment while the mini person runs circles around them. (That circle usually ends up with me getting my nose honked or a gooey baby kiss. Either way, misery.)

This morning was no exception. Soft Touch was "fixing" a toy with none other than a sock and super glue. Sure. Sure. I eat socks and I'm told I'm a "bad dog." He afixes it to the drive train of a toy car and he's "clever." UGH. You guessed it, injustice. So, all was going well in this sudden case of Johnny Fix-it, but then the mini-Human-tornado finished his yogurt and got out of his giant chair. What did that monkey do? You guessed it, made a beeline for the sock/superglue haven of sticky terribleness. NEVER have I heard Mother Person be so alarmed. HE'S GOING TO GLUE HIS HANDS TOGETHER!!!! Followed by a great deal of flapping and high pitched squeals about nail polish remover. (This lady hasn't worn nail polish since 2009, you know, when she got married and let herself go. Pathetic.) She picked up Tornado like a football and separated his hands-- not an easy thing. This kid likes to clap like nobody's business... But alas, she made it to the acetone (probably had to dust it off, next to the pile of mascaras and neglected beauty products)  before the munchkin became set in a permanent clap. Crisis averted!!! And while that happened, I got to hop on the giant chair and clean up some Cheerio remains. It was a win-win. Apparently, after your kid almost glues their hand together, seeing the dog in the high chair doesn't seem like as big a deal as it usually is. FINALLY, win 1 for the Wiener Dog.

I don't know why they took Martha Stewart off the air. I feel like she understood me. First Ricki, now this. Wherever will I find my classic tea towels?!?! Misery. I missed French class today. Merd. I can't miss pilates, though. My core is suffering.

Sincerely,
Beans A Wienerdog