June 27th, 2014

Dear Diary,

It is a monumental day. It is the day that I was born. Tiny little Beans Aloysious Wienerdog sprang forth onto this Earth demanding treats, snuggles and fluffy bed (which is on a pillow which is on a sofa which is on a thick ply carpet... I'm the Princess and the Pea of wienerdogs, diary). I dare not say how old I am... But look and me and DAMN! I look good, so what the heck. I am 10. That's right, the big 1-0. The double digits. The top of the hill in the over the hill scale. Misery.

 Stunning. Amiright??? But there is a little hitch in my giddeup there. Embarrassing.

So it's time for a mid life crisis.

OMG YOU GUYS!!!! Will I still be able to eat cloth wear with the same fervor as before?!?!?! Will I be able to eat a 2 lb wheel of smoked gouda cheese in 1.3 seconds?!?!?! Will I start to like French dogs?!?! Ugh. I can't think about these things. I must continue to live each day like I always have: like I'm the goddamn center of the universe. I have a small list of demands of which I'll present to Soft Touch and Mother Person tonight.

1. Access to the refrigerator. If that little person gets to run around with reckless abandon asking for copious amounts of fruit and cheese, I should be able to get in there and hit the salted meats. We're going to need some gadget to make this happen, as these T-Rex arms aren't going to cut it. Perhaps I bark twice, door opens. What could go wrong?!?!?! At least after I bark at the evil hallway monsters (who have yet to attack the home thanks to my vigorous vocalism, thank you very much), I'll get some meat to calm me down and refuel. This is just good sense.

2. A new bed. Don't they ever wonder why I eat my bed in approximately 3 weeks after getting it? It's because they're bullshit. (Not that I'd eat bullshit, I am a gentleman and have my limits!!!!! It's just a turn of phrase, diary.) I want a feathertop, spaceman foam extravaganza with a little elf who tucks a down blanket over my loppy-eared head at 9:30pm every night. But don't worry, I'll still wake up Soft Touch at 4am to get into their bed. I think he really likes that. Who doesn't like waking up at 4am?

Look how awful this is!!!!!!! 

3. Retirement account. Sure, I've never earned a dime my whole life, and I've probably given Mother Person 49 heart attacks rushing me to the emergency night vet... and then 49 more heart attacks when she saw the bills. But, I need to start planning for my retirement home which rotates with the sun and is always 75 with a light breezy. And socks fall from the trees.

4. Sleep-away camp for the munchkin. I seriously can't believe they're keeping that kid... I liked him for a while with the food dropping and the peanut butter laden face... but he's getting older and tidier and that does NOT work for me.

5. Just kill the vacuum cleaner already. Injustice!

6. A unicorn. How are these not a thing yet?? It's 2014!! Scientists and veterinarians??? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH ALL YOUR TIME?!?!?! Injustice. #MakeUnicornsAPriority

7. Jeez Louise. It's hard work making lists. I think I need a secretary. At least a Siri that will understand my accent. More misery.

8. I would like more treats when I do cute things. And not just like a "here, lick out the peanut butter jar," because that's just the people being lazy and mumbling about recycling laws... I want a tartare. Beef. Salmon. I don't care, but let's bring up the A-game shall we???

This is steak dinner cute right here. And I didn't bite him!! 

I think this is a comprehensive list of my complaints and needs. I didn't put a Ferrari and a garish watch on this list as that's just too stereotypical.... and I will not be typical in ANY way. And who are we kidding, I haven't seen my wrists in years. This nose, those legs. It's a physical impossibility... But my elf who tucks me in at night could read it for me... Give him another job, and I'll look bangin'. Ok, #9. A garish watch with dials and knobs that no one understands but says to the world, Don't mess with him!!! He's got a giant watch!! 

Happy birthday to me. I'll let you know if there's meat cake, diary. I won't hold me breath, though. Misery. 

Yours, 

Beans A. Wienerdog

August 15, 2014

Dear Diary,

I saw something disturbing. Not just mother-person eating frosting straight from the can at 10:35pm like she was a rabid raccoon in need of a sugar high... It was something on the internet. I know! I thought the internet was just full of convenience items like Omaha steaks, wag.com, and on-line poker. But apparently there's this new thing the "kids" are into called BuzzFeed. It has NOTHING to do with feeding at ALL. There's no free samples of liver treats sent to your home. There are no frozen peanut butter balls. No Flintstone's style rack of ribs delivered. Misery. Instead it's just lists. I mean, really. Lists? It was harmless banality until yesterday.

Picture it: I was lounging on the couch, lamenting the fact that my lousy parents can't buy an apartment with floor to ceiling windows that's built on a lazy susan that is in sync with the rotation of the Earth to provide a direct sunny spot all day long. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM!?! Seriously, how hard is this?!?!! Why do I have to think of EVERYTHING. Injustice. Alas... I was lounging-- sans sun so it wasn't a GREAT lounge, but I think I've belabored that point-- and I decided I should check out my stock portfolio. I grab the iPad that the mini person has covered in unknown sticky things. So I got a snack at least, that was a positive. I opened up the browser and SACRE BLEU!!!!! This is the headline I saw:  24 Things Your Dachshund Can Do For You. I wept, openly. (Which made me very snoozy so I took a nap.) Upon my waking, I got hopping mad. (I did not hop, as that would make me even snoozier.) 24 things?!?!?!?!! Why on Earth should I have to do ANYTHING for you, let alone 24?!?!?!?! Then I looked more closely. It. Was. Horrifying. It should have been called, "24 Things Batshit Goofy People Have Done to Their Delightful Dachshund Who Put Up With It Even When They Should Have Bit Them And Filed A Legal Suit." It could have been something a bit more pithy, but I'm under duress here... It's the best I can do.

Look at this.

It looks JUST LIKE ME, only we all know it's not as my eyebrows are more expressive and I WILL NEVER WEAR A HAT. That it the ultimate injustice. INJUSTICE!!!!

How miserable does this little thing look???

There better be a treat involved in this nonsense or I will eat your toes in your sleep.

This is just blatantly illegal. 

There are somethings up with I cannot put, Diary!!!!!! Oh sweet misery.... What has the world come too?????

The injustice is just too great... I feel I must put my own list together... But then I'd just be contributing to this list making bullshittery... And it sounds like a lot of work. Like a LOT. And I'm not so good with the dragging and dropping of photos. (T-Rex arms, damn you!!!!!)

Ugh. I'll do back to sleeping. Sans sun. Dreaming of better days. Misery.

Sincerely,
Beans A. Wienerdog

June 27, 2013

Dear Diary,

June 27th.... Does that date ring any bells, Diary? No? Let me give you an hour to remember... That's how long it took Mother Person to remember that today is THE DAY OF MY BIRTH!!! But apparently I'm the Molly Ringwald of the 9 year olds. Misery. Did I get woken up by a giant birthday ham fall from the ceiling??? Did I get a parade and bacon wrapped socks??? NO. I got NADA. Injustice. I got my same ol' kibble, in my same ol' bowl (no crystal?? no Steuben???) from that same bleary eyed Soft Touch. And then... an HOUR after I'd done my business, eaten, read the paper and was settling in for my morning nap, Mother Person bursts out the shower-- her hair in an appalling turban thing-- saying "BEANS!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!"

Really.

She gave me pity snuggles. She rubbed my belly with her guilt ridden hands. She woooja-woojaed my sweet face with such desperation I nearly threw up the 3 socks I'd been storing up for such an occasion. With my age, comes wisdom, so I did not vomit on the couch during her affections. I thought that would lower my possibilities for a treat. Apparently, it makes no difference to this cold hearted dingbat, as again, I GOT NADA. Injustice. (I will throw them up tomorrow. On a pillow. Mark my words.)

But alas... Today I, and I alone, will celebrate that 9 hallowed years ago in the hamlet of Mountain Top, Pennsylvania, I burst forth into this world in all my short but long glory. Full of dreams, hopes, and the desire to eat anything and everything that crosses my path. (I regret that earbud though...)

So dynamic. So glorious. 

Look at me. Have you ever seen something more beautiful in your life??! Move over Ryan Gosling. Your time is up!!! (Although, you are better at the wife beater/suspenders look. Damn my lack of shoulders!!!!!)

I hope tonight Mother Person regales me with salted meats. Or tells me that we're FINALLY giving the Tiny Human and the vacuum cleaner to the circus. A pup can dream... a pup can dream... 

Sincerely, 

Beans A. Wienerdog

June 19th, 2013

Dear Diary,

I have been treatless for days now. Snuggle-less for months. Well, other than the ones that Mother Person, mini-person and Soft Touch have given me... Misery. They went on vacation for a weekend and didn't take me because I "pee" on "rugs" and "steal food" and "generally act like a small goat." I heard there was a pool where they went. Disgusting. Basically a giant bath tub where you have to exercise. That is the worst paring I've EVER heard of. Worse than Kanye and Kim! (That is saying something...) So, whatever. I guess I dodged that bullet.

Something lightened my mood today. Briefly. While checking out my stock portfolio and perusing the Joss and Main offerings, I noticed THIS. I am cute. Very cute. I am the standard barer for cute. These are all slightly below my cuteness, but closer than I've ever seen. Some do break my rule of NO SHOES, but at least they're slippers... I am confident that these images will never bump me off my pedestal of amazingness. But I may go buy some duck slippers just to make sure...

Imagine this as me, only cuter. 

Ta ta for now. TTFN? OH!!! That's what that means!!! No kidding. Huh. I learned something today.

Sincerely,
Beans A. Wienerdog

June 13, 2013

Dear Diary,

I may have finally done it. I may have finally sent Mother Person into fits of insanity. (It wasn't a long drive, lemme tell ya...) I allegedly jumped up on the dining table and borrowed the mini-human's breakfast. Honestly, if you feed the kid peanut butter, you need to teach him to be vigilant. He can't just pick up his milk cup and not think that his toast covered with the nectar of the gods will still be there when he puts that cup down. Be a better parent, Mother Person. How does this make me a BAD DOG??! Injustice!!!

She truly has no appreciation for all that I do for her. A very very strange man that came from the land of the hallway monsters came to the apartment. He was looking at ALL our stuff and writing it down!!! What the heck is this?!?! PRISM in my own home!!! Well, I had to fight back!! And this guy happened to have packed his own lunch (how quaint) and left it in his work bag on the floor (how foolish). So I ate it. It was the only way I could think to teach this guy a lesson that 1) you do not enter my home ever, 2) you don't pack Cheez-its for lunch when you're a GROWN ASS MAN, 3) don't say, "oh what a cute little fella!" I'm a regal creature. And I really like Cheez-its. Mother Person said he was from a moving company and we were hoping to get a "good price" and me "eating his lunch" didn't ingratiate us in his eyes. What a drama queen.

And if all that wasn't BAD enough. The sun wasn't long enough today.

Note how these pillows aren't fluffed. Misery.

I took this photo while I was watching Kelly & Michael this am. (Don't judge me.) Jerry Seinfeld was on and said he has 2 wienerdogs, and one doesn't like him. Those are odds that you should be very happy with, Funny Man. One is named after a player for the Mets?! <smacks forhead> (Ok, I can't smack my forehead. Damn you, T-Rex arms!!!!... but I smacked my forehead in my mind.)

I need to rest. All this smacking not to mention those Cheez-its and the 2 socks that are currently in my digestive track duking it out like Ryan Lochte and his grasp of the English language. Unsavory.

Sincerely,
Beans A. Wienerdog

June 5, 2013

Dear Diary, 

FLABBERGASTED. I am aghast. What has happened to the left wing liberal elite media?!?!? Do they not fact check anything anymore?!?!??!!! From Petwatchman.com... titled The Top Three most aggressive dogs... 

"The top ranking dog breed, out of the 33 dogs surveyed, to be the most aggressive is…the Dachshund. Wow! I would never have thought, much less, consider it the most aggressive dog breed. The study found that "one out of five dachshunds have bitten or tried to bite strangers, and a similar number have attacked other dogs; one in 12 have snapped at their owners.”"

First... I left their punctuation in there.. which is ABYSMAL. All those quotes? Really. Try some italics, Captain Mudslinger. And what hard news piece interjects the word, Wow! Stop it. You're embarrassing yourself. Misery.

And yes, you "never would have thought..." I think that sums up everything. You didn't think. Did you SPEAK to any of these "agressive" Dachshunds?! Did you speak to these strangers who were ALLEGEDLY bitten?? On a scale of "extremely bright" to "can't find their ass with both hands", where are these stranger?! Have these strangers ever been 6 inches tall and walked around in a world where human things are a good 5 feet taller than them???  Have they ever had that giant face come down from high atop stocky shoulders right into their face to say, "This looks like a hotdog!!!" I DEFY YOU TO NOT WANT TO BITE THAT NOSE. It's horrifying, insulting, and frankly, bad manners. If that's agression, than we live in a sad world where human things think that dogs should obey them. 

Wait... what was that diary?? Dogs are suppose to be obedient?!?! TO WHOM? Since when??? Injustice. I answer to no one but my inner spirit that tells me all the things I need to know: always sleep in the sun, dance like no one is watching, bacon bacon bacon, and don't swim 30 minutes after eating socks. 

I hereby boycott Petwatchman.com and all their tom foolery that they call journalism. I will go back to reading my Dachshund sub-reddit and completely my French homework for tomorrow. 

Sincerely, 
Beans A. Wienerdog

March 26, 2013

Dear Diary,

INJUSTICE!!! Why didn't I think of this??

Misery. 

Sincerely, 

Beans A. Wienerdog