The Da-Bitchy Code

Evening Bitches and Studs,
Today's entry will be called:
The Da-Bitchy Code

Over the past year or so, the woman has gotten into Cesar Milan aka The Dog Whisperer and his "rules" for being a good pet parent. I'm down with that but the problem is, he's overlooking the fact that some pooch parents are clinically insane.

For example, Mr. Milan says that the parent should always walk in front of the pooch to establish dominance. Okay, I'm usually up for letting crazy bitch think she's in control but there ain't no way I'm walking behind her! In front of her carries it's dangers too but at l east one has a chance of out running whatever is about to happen.

I included the pic to illustrate a couple of points. Take a look at the back of the photo. See that little area thru the doorway? She calls that a mud room, it opens into the garage and she enters from there. Fatass and I stay in our cages out there and only by the grace of Fido has crazy bitch not pulled in and mowed us down yet. I don't feel that it's a question of if but more of a when type thing.

That's another story for another time.

Anywoof, back to the "rules"...So crazy bitch pulls in, gets out of the car with tons of shit in her hands. Purse, briefcase type 'puter bag, our Arby's, other crap and the always present cup of scalding hot coffee. Do you bitches and studs know how nerve racking it is to be locked in a metal cage with that staggering mess click-clacking towards you?

As soon as my door is opened, I am out of there faster than a bullet from a gun! I'm not being bad, I'm being safe. Rarely, but occasionally, she makes it thru the door to the mud room with all items intact. Remember, I said rarely. 98 percent of the time, she's on her knee's or ass at the door's threshold after either tripping on a piece of grit, skip-hippity-hopping over lint or just plain out falling down from some imagined craziness, of course all items go flying, including the scalding hot shit so you see why hanging by her side is not the best idea for this household. Again, I'm not being bad...it's a safety issue and on that note, I lift my tail and Mr. Milan can pucker up!

Let's take a glance at the 2 percent shall we? This is where I ask you to look at the pic and study the mirror standing against the wall. Looks harmless enough don't cha think? It's 7 1/2 feet tall by 5 foot wide (I think that's right) it weighs a ton and I love looking at myself in it!

Again, it seems harmless, right? That's because you guys aren't crazy bitch. Of the 2, count' em 2 times crazy bitch has made it past the mud room without incident, she click-clacked her way thru the hallway, turns left and let's out the most horrific blood chilling scream. Throws her arms up, purse, roast beef's and puter bag are flung into the hallway while she flings the scalding hot shit off to the other side covering the tree (right side of pic) in the corner and most of the wall.

Wanna know what startled her or are you ahead of me? Yep, her own reflection. Now if you want me to be fair, I'll admit that maybe once it could be a understandable thing but twice...2 times! TWO! Same scenario, same result. SCREAM! Splat! Splash!

On the first one, Goon was all: Wad da hell?? Nev'ah mind...I'll call da painters. Second time, he didn't even ask or blink. He walked in, saw it and whipped out the mobile talkie thingy. Another day done the BG kinda way...(nutty bitch!)

There's a side story here: Painter guys come over and do their thing which includes some ceiling touch ups because crazy bitch got that too but while they were here they helped themselves to the cookie jar.

Wanna know what they were eating?

Yep,dog cookies! Those bastards ate MY peanut butter
and oatmeal cookies the woman orders for us online. The cookies are made to order with over the counter doggie med's included depending on what the human tells the baker.

In our case, she orders the works so the painters should be free of flea's, mite's and worms for 6-8 weeks.

Maybe I should send a certain Fucktard a bag....

Paws to alls,
Brutal

Welcome Prada!

Courtesy of the Pound, new baby Prada
is all blinged up and surrounded by "Hello Kitty
gear" especially for all of you.

Mabel

Still Waiting!

Gammy Pat's


Hot Gammy Pat's all poofed out...
like the Miss Pat's we know and love!
All that's missing is the bolly and the baby!

Woof!
Brutus

Love, Brutus!

Dear Bitches,
(squatters and leg lifters included)
Welcome to The Pound

This joint is in honor of those that trotted before me. LH, BB and The Firehouse. I almost hate to write this but I have to send out a big dog WOOF! to Loretta Dillemuth Smith Tucker Smith Serrano Dillon Hilton Todd Fisher Burton, etc....for bringing all you lovelies together. If not for her and her cyber bullshit, some of us would have never met. So for that, Thank you, Fucktard!

I don't really have any rules. Play nice, have fun, chat about anything you like. The water bowl is to the right, the woman has a bar to the left.

There will be no IP sleuthing here. I simply don't know enough about it, nor do I care. Use any name you like or post as mouse. I don't care about that either.

I will have a couple of guard dogs around to help if anything needs attention.

So there ya go....the yard is open, sniff some butts and have a blast!

Note to the crazy woman:
You crazy bitch! I heard you on the phone discussing my bladder habits and your concern that I'm going too much. Let me tell you something you drunken slut, if you would move that 4 foot tall flucking water fountain away from my bed there wouldn't be a problem! Yeah, yeah, you find the trickle-drip thing soothing yadda yadda. Well I find the damn thing annoying as hell! I've pissed myself so dry I can't blink anymore. Have you noticed I have no drool left? Seriously, bitch, between the scotch, the vodka and the wine, if you get any "soothier" you'll be dead! Not that I care or anything but you do buy great chews!

Note to Fucktard:
I have no children for you to harass or threaten so what'cha gonna do to shut me up? Want to bring up the fact that I flunked out of doggie school, go ahead. FYI, I failed 3 times. How about my behavior problems at the Spa...yeah, I've had a few. So what? Vet records stating I have mental problems...look who I live with for crying out loud!

Not a lot for ya to work with is there you wonk eyed, buck toothed Fuckhead?

Oh, and don't insult my intelligence by pretending to be Anne. That ploy is so laughable it's embarrassing.

If you want to hurt my woman, take a swing at Pei Pig Fatass aka Mo'nique (fabulous and thick my ass!) that'll get her attention. But be prepared for her to go all kinds of insane on your ass. Actually, she idles at insane...so if you want to jump into that snake pit of hell, be my guest!

Otherwise, talk to the tail, Fucktard. You have no power here!

Woof!
Brutus