|AW, ISN'T THIS ADORABLE? |
I got Pig Face a set of booties to keep her dirty little feet warm and she just loves them!
I know I'm just a
It was bad enough when they nicknamed me Pig Face and it stuck. But now that I'm spending my first full winter with them it's like they've never seen a fucking wet dog before. (Sorry for cursing. It's one of the many bad habits I've picked up from these imbeciles. I'm drinking a 26-er a day now too, and I even smoke occasionally if I can get my mitts on a fag ... ) I get paw prints on their shiny hardwood and they're all "Omigawd, my floors! I just washed them!" Yeah well maybe you should have got yourselves a goddam FISH then, hey?
Anyway, I put up with all that crap because Dogos are remarkably good-natured (although I will admit we have the most potent farts of any breed. I dare you to inhale after I've dropped one; it's like Hiroshima) but then they started this "dog booties" thing. They put them on me before I go outside and I slip around in the snow like I'm wearing glass slippers AND ALL THE OTHER DOGS LAUGH AT ME! Oh, but "it's okay, it's fine, it's frickin wonderful" because when I am finally allowed to return to the hallowed sanctuary they can remove these ridiculous little fuckers and their saintly floors remain unmolested. Honestly, Santa. It's only mid-December and I'm already on the verge of going Rottweiler on these two.
So please, I'm begging you: new owners for Christmas. Betty White would be nice, but at this point I'll take anyone. Anyone at all. I'm not in a position to be choosy. Er, wait ... not Michael Vick. But anyone else.
Love, Pig Feet
PIG FACE'S NOTE: Shit! I meant Pig Face. See what I mean? Does anyone out there even remember my real name? You there, reading this craptastic blog in the pathetic hope there'll be boobs. Do you know my real name?
EDITOR'S NOTE: Er, Pig Boobs? Dog Boobs? Rumpelstiltsboobs?
PIG FACE'S NOTE: Correction. "Anyone but Michael Vick and Whorrified's moron editor."