February 15, 2012

Dear Diary,

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!

Ok. Deep breaths. Maybe that's a bad angle...

Nope. Not the angle. It looks like that stupid vacuum robot covered in hair!!!! That's not a dog!!!! And that vacuum is evil and demented and must be smashed. I don't trust it. And don't cover it in hair and think that I can be fooled! I digress...

This is a dog....

She's me on stilts! She's German!! (Ok, her name is Fifi, but she's German at heart...) THAT is a dog. It's not as great as this Dachshund....

But. Whatever. Injustice. Why should I be so surprised at life being so horrible to me?? Did I get a consolation steak last night??? No. Did I get snuggled all night? Oh, yeah, I did... BAH. I don't even get to complain about lack of snuggles!!!!!! MISERY. 

I need to eat some socks. 

Sincerely, 

Beans A. Wienerdog

February 14, 2012

Dear Diary,

Valentine's Day. Or, the memorial of the day I lost those 2 little dangly bits. That's right, I was neutered on Valentine's Day. While my Mother Person went to the Westminster Dog show and whored herself out with other dogs. I think that pretty much sums up my life. Misery. Oh sure, she coddled and snuggled me after I came home and I got "special" treats for awhile... but that was just her GUILT. Her GUILT for fraternizing with other dogs who still have dangly bits. She told me I was prettier than them.... and she's right. So, at least she's not blind. There's a win.

I have to admit, I am VERY excited as this year the wire-haired Dachshund won the hound group!!!! OH THE EXCITEMENT!!! Sure, they're inferior to the smooth coated, but heck. A Wiener recognition is a Wiener recognition and I'll take it. I mean, basically, the dog looks like me, only as an old man.

Good luck, Raydachs Playing With Fire V Glesihorbach. (That's a mouthful.) It should be noted that her   sister's name is Wire Wire Pants on Fire, which is fairly awesome. Anywho.... Make us proud, you little bitch! (Rarely does one get to say that and not get yelled at for salty language.) 


I better get treats tonight... Ugh. Probably won't. Misery. And apparently I can't see in 2-dimensions so I can't watch the finals on TV? INJUSTICE!!!!! Don't tell me what I can do or not do!!! And if I have to hear Mother Person squeal over the big dumb Labradors, I may need to break out the Scotch. 


Sincerely, 
Beans A. Wienerdog

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

December 26, 2011

Dear Diary,

TREATS: LOADS!!! Well, by the usual paltry standards.
SNUGGLES: TONS!!! Again, the bar is low, but I'll take it.
INJUSTICES: 12, give or take

It's that time of year. The weighing of the "naughty" with the "nice." What does this mean anyway? Isn't one man's naughty another's nice? Isn't eating someones cake a nice thing to do? Says, "Gosh, you made a nice cake that's deserving of being eaten!" and "Let me eat this for you so your bum doesn't grow any larger."  Semantics. It's all I'm saying.

Look at me here on Christmas morn. Hardly eaten anything and trusted into the task of ripping through heavy stock paper. But look at what it says?? Does it say GOOD DOG! Or BELOVED PET? Sure doesn't.

Ugh. Injustice. But it was filled with treats! However, they were treats that insinuated that perhaps my breath doesn't smell like a dewey meadow filled with rosebushes and unicorns. (I hear unicorns smell divine!) Rude. I didn't give them presents that said, "You stink!! Fix it!" or "You call that a haircut?!" Where is the sensitivity?!

As promised, I found some holiday photos of me from the good years. You know, before mini-person (and the 2nd vacuum. Who needs 2 vacuums?!?!?! Pure evil.).

Have you ever seen anything cuter than this?!?! Look at my adorable ears!!! And my tiny little legs! Oh, how I love this photo. I don't really like that coat so much, but I look so good in it, it's hard to poo-poo it. 

Here's where I really shine through....

See what I did there? Shine? Lights?? Oh forget it. Puns never pay off. Or is that a metaphor? WHATEVER. I look amazing and that's the point. Look at that face! I really am a treasure. And how dare they put all those lights around me! I could have been electrocuted! I guess it was worth it for the sake of the art.

Here I am now....

... resting with my latest friend. Pink Dog, I named her. She doesn't say much. Just a few crinkles and squeaks. It's best that way. These people need a bigger couch. Criminal how I have to curl up like this. And no blanket!!!! No hamburgers! Misery.

Naughty or nice... I'm still gorgeous.

Yours,
Beans A. Wienerdog

December 21st, 2011

Dear Diary,

Injustices since last entry: 89
Evil Hallway monsters: 32
Treats: 7

I am offended. And appalled. Aghast even. Apparently, people are upset that a dog is on the White House Christmas card. Why do you people think one has a dog??? It's to put a cute photo of them on your holiday card!!!! Oh and the snuggles, and cleaning up food that's dropped on the floor.

Look at that poor mutt!!!! (Wait, he's a pure breed??? From where? Portugal?? The heck you say... Well, ok.) Look at that poor odd breed European raised dog who apparently can swim well!! MISERABLE!!! And do you know why??? It lives in a house with 2 mini-people who suck up ALL the air in the place. ALL the attention. And a staff of 3080 who probably hoover the floors before Portugese Mutt can sniff out the treasures. I can think of nothing worse. Well, ok... There is a fireplace. That's pretty nice. It's like constant sunshine that doesn't move, which is quite handy. I wonder if those gift boxes are full of socks and peanuts and porterhouse steaks and fluffy blankets. The dog should be on that table investigating!!! Not lolly gagging around the fire. Lock it up, pooch!!! 

I, of course, am prominent on this year's card for the family... I SHARE the limelight of course. OF COURSE. Share. What does that even mean. Just say it, it's a holiday card hijack. This mini-person can't rock a santa suit like I can. If I can figure out that foul-filthing photo scanner, I will prove this point. Stay tuned, Diary. Stay tuned. 

Merf, 

Beans A. Wienerdog

December 15, 2011

Dear Diary,

DO YOU SEE THIS?!?!? Yes, I look adorable. I know. That's not the point, but I can see how that's your immediate take-away... I had to tuck myself in!!! MYSELF!! I don't have thumbs. I barely have legs! I have these sweet little T-rex arms. But yet! I was forced to pull the blanket over me all by my wiener lonesome. Sad sad day. I'm thinking of starting a union. First thing on the contract, more treats. Then, personal blanket tucker. More sunshine. And that personal blanket tucker will need to be an experienced belly rubber. I will put this on Craigslist!!! Hold please.

... Oh woe. Woe is me. Craigslist told me this was questionable and not suitable for people under the age of 18. They don't understand me. No one does. Meanwhile, that mini-person keeps kissing me and then gets all excited and dances around. Come on. Calm down. I need to rest. All this tucking.... wears you out.

Sincerely,
Beans A. Wienerdog