I cannot be stopped
Recently I went on Vacation to Aunt Diane and Uncle Mike's house, where I spent way too fucking long hanging out with my good friends Otto, Bruno and Hattie.
Hattie and I had some good times. We played her favorite game "Anarchist Cookbook Time" whenever no one was home, and we shared tips and tricks for pooping on things that belong to other people. It was pretty fun. As you all know, you can't spell "Hattie" without "Hate", and you can't spell "Gorgeous" with out "Gore"
Bruno... I think maybe he was too dumb to realize that I was a dog and not just a shitty squeak toy. Maybe dumb is too harsh. Let us just say he has "special needs" and one of his very fucking special needs is he needs his own olympics. if you know what I am saying.
Otto, on the other hand, he deserves his own letter, which I have written to him on his myspace page. I repeat it here for your edification. And yes, I realize you don't know what that word means.
Dear Dingus,
Thanks a fucking bunch for making sure I got to steal exactly *no* mashed potatoes.
Thanks for pretty much sitting on me like twenty times.
Thanks for cockblocking my every attempt to get on the big bed with the people with your big ass.
I will not miss how you fucking stared at me for like two weeks straight.
I will not miss watching you watching the Skinamax after hours. You are creepy.
Oh, and I was extra not impressed how you discovered that I was the one who had been laying in your dog bed by sniffing my ass. What a brilliant piece of deduction, Miss Marple!! Maybe you and Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes and Jessica Feltcher can all go out to the Fancy Faggot Tea Garden in historic Gaytown, and discuss how you pieced together the clues to come to that astounding conclusion.
To sum up, I hope the planet you are from blows up before more of your cockblocking, mashed potato hoarding, big assed alien race comes to earth to ruin my plans.
You Douche.
Love, Peaches
P.S. I had a good time hanging out with you.
So I have moved into a new house which is pretty cool. It has stairs that are really fucking loud when I run up and down them all night long. They are also a good launching pad for punching Mommy in her sleep, and is it easier than I ever imagined to try to kill her on the stairs. Oh yes. So funny for me.
That bitch is extra deserving of abuse because she refused to give me the car and a big bag of money to go celebrate Cinco de Mayo. I had a whole plan to go to Shitsville, Arizona and put a stop to the Annual Chihuaha Races. Those Racist bastards.
Here is the winner:
Look at the look on his little face.
You can tell that bitch is going to wake up dead.
In Mexico, Cinco de Mayo is celebrated by the town seeing who can drink the most and still escape from a pool of sharks. The winner is decided by a panel of chihuahuas. Bribes are strongly advised. Then, after the contest, the sharks get drunk, and usually throw up, and then the sharks and chihuahuas laugh, and laugh and laugh, and then they go for a sandwich and maybe a movie. Because Cinco de Mayo is all about the celebration of the food chain.
But what the fuck do you know?
Nothing.
So until next time,
-Peaches
Hattie and I had some good times. We played her favorite game "Anarchist Cookbook Time" whenever no one was home, and we shared tips and tricks for pooping on things that belong to other people. It was pretty fun. As you all know, you can't spell "Hattie" without "Hate", and you can't spell "Gorgeous" with out "Gore"
Bruno... I think maybe he was too dumb to realize that I was a dog and not just a shitty squeak toy. Maybe dumb is too harsh. Let us just say he has "special needs" and one of his very fucking special needs is he needs his own olympics. if you know what I am saying.
Otto, on the other hand, he deserves his own letter, which I have written to him on his myspace page. I repeat it here for your edification. And yes, I realize you don't know what that word means.
Dear Dingus,
Thanks a fucking bunch for making sure I got to steal exactly *no* mashed potatoes.
Thanks for pretty much sitting on me like twenty times.
Thanks for cockblocking my every attempt to get on the big bed with the people with your big ass.
I will not miss how you fucking stared at me for like two weeks straight.
I will not miss watching you watching the Skinamax after hours. You are creepy.
Oh, and I was extra not impressed how you discovered that I was the one who had been laying in your dog bed by sniffing my ass. What a brilliant piece of deduction, Miss Marple!! Maybe you and Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes and Jessica Feltcher can all go out to the Fancy Faggot Tea Garden in historic Gaytown, and discuss how you pieced together the clues to come to that astounding conclusion.
To sum up, I hope the planet you are from blows up before more of your cockblocking, mashed potato hoarding, big assed alien race comes to earth to ruin my plans.
You Douche.
Love, Peaches
P.S. I had a good time hanging out with you.
So I have moved into a new house which is pretty cool. It has stairs that are really fucking loud when I run up and down them all night long. They are also a good launching pad for punching Mommy in her sleep, and is it easier than I ever imagined to try to kill her on the stairs. Oh yes. So funny for me.
That bitch is extra deserving of abuse because she refused to give me the car and a big bag of money to go celebrate Cinco de Mayo. I had a whole plan to go to Shitsville, Arizona and put a stop to the Annual Chihuaha Races. Those Racist bastards.
Here is the winner:
Look at the look on his little face.
You can tell that bitch is going to wake up dead.
In Mexico, Cinco de Mayo is celebrated by the town seeing who can drink the most and still escape from a pool of sharks. The winner is decided by a panel of chihuahuas. Bribes are strongly advised. Then, after the contest, the sharks get drunk, and usually throw up, and then the sharks and chihuahuas laugh, and laugh and laugh, and then they go for a sandwich and maybe a movie. Because Cinco de Mayo is all about the celebration of the food chain.
But what the fuck do you know?
Nothing.
So until next time,
-Peaches