Rest in Peace my Dear Pepe Patron

Not two hours ago, I posted this adorable picture of my baby. It is with a heavy heart that I now bid him farewell. I let him get run over by a car. I'm an idiot. I didn't have him on a leash. He never ran to the road. We were getting in the car, and I looked up and he was gone.

I feel like a complete moron. And an asshole. This sweet, tiny, boy depended on me for food, water, shelter, warmth, and love. And, I let him down. I let him perish in the most tragic and terrible way. I want to remember him like this, this, and this because that is Mr. Patron. That is the good boy he was. But it will be hard to close my eyes for a while. Because all I see is him lying there twitching, his little eye popped out. I know it sounds disgusting, but I have to get this out. It is my fault the precious doggie is gone. I can only find comfort in that I can't hurt him anymore.

Yes, I realize I am a God damned country song. And, I'm sorry. I can assure you I wish something would go right. I was all set to come back to blogging tonight. I don't think I am anymore. Thank you to everyone who has wished me well. I hope to see you all again soon.

I Wike To Wet My Tongue Hang Out

Just Another Manic Monday

I wish it were Sunday. Oh, hell, I wish it were Friday afternoon. Again. Over and over and over. Again.

I've been on vacation for almost two whole weeks, and today is my first day back. I have a migraine. Enough said.

I just am not feeling very chipper and rested after so many days at home (a few were spent back home with my family, which is always nice). See, I have this little sleeping issue. I say "little" because, well, I'm not really much for self pity. But, really, it's a big shitty problem that I've had for, oh, say, 10 years now? No, I'm not that old. I have always had trouble sleeping. As a child, I slept at night, got up early and never ever napped. I didn't sleep in the car while we were driving--even the six hours to the beach. I didn't sleep during nap time in Kindergarten, which always got me frowny faces. ...Those bitches, I can't help it I can't sleep!... Anywho, I've been taking something to help me sleep for going on six years now. And, I think it is past its prime.

I know I was out of my routine last night when I went to bed, but it was friggin' ridiculous. It's often like that on Sunday. I lay down, and I can't get to sleep for hours. Then, when I finally do get to sleep, I wake up at 2 AM and never go back to sleep. And, it isn't like I hate my job or something. I just get very anxious on Sunday nights. On other nights, I get anxious, as well, but Sunday is the worst. I don't know why.

So, I'm really exhausted, and I just got back from a two week vacation. Of doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. But resting. Please explain this to me. I think I've decided it is shrink time. I think I'll make an appointment to see the psychiatrist. I want a sleep study. I want someone to tell me why I get highly anxious at night and no other time. What the hell is that?! I realize I'm high strung, but SERIOUSLY. Let a girl get some sleep.

Add that to the fact that I'm going to have to PAY taxes this year. Yeah, I won't be getting a single cent back, I'll be paying those good for nothing bastards. And, this is AFTER paying almost $6,000 in federal taxes alone this year. Go ahead, go calculate how much I make. Freaks. Anyway, I'm not 100% sure on that yet because I don't have my W-2, but from my paycheck stubs, it ain't looking so hot. I was so thrilled we got bonuses this year (even if our profit-where bonuses come from-was 1/3 last year's profit, for our company to be making a profit at all in our economy is amazing!). And, even though it was $1500 less than I got last year, it was still great to get anything. I was looking forward to putting some money into my savings and building it back up. Nope. Think again. That'll be going to the IRS and that son-of-a-bitch Obama with all his new ideas. Kill. Me. Now.

And, throw in a little of Travis' dad is still in the hospital. Even though he is out of ICU and the coma finally, I still miss him. And, Pepe really misses his Grandparents. We go over to feed Travis' Jack Russell, Mickey, who Pepe loves, and Pepe runs up to the house to see Mom and Dad. But no Mom and Dad is to be found. Sigh...

I guess I'm just a little down today. I've tried to pick myself up a little. I walked down five flight of stairs to the mailroom three times today. I'd walk back up, but it's hot as hell in there, and I'm fat, and I sweat. It didn't really make me feel a whole lot better. I ate a sensible lunch and don't think I gained much over the holiday, which is awesome. I've come to realize I could eat a box of donuts or a handful of broccoli and I'd gain the same amount of weight--a lot to be exact. Someone can explain that shit to me next (right after they explain my sleep issues).

Anywho, I know this is a dreaded personal post, so I'll wrap this boring shit up. But, I just wanted to write that for me. I feel a teeny bit better. Even if I still have a migraine. Ugh.

Your Momma Dresses You Funny

If this doesn't say "Man, I'm hating life!", I don't know what does...

Squashed Serenity

The red is my butt (my robe). Pepe put himself here--squashed behind my butt. He loves it. It is ridiculous. That dog is so rotten. He can't stand it if he isn't "up my ass" all the time. Literally, sometimes, as seen here.

My Dog is Not Discriminatory. He Hates Everyone.

I am sick to death of people asking me if my dog is racist or somehow insinuating he is racist--especially when they imply I made him that way. Pepe "I-am-a-chihuahua-who-thinks-it's-a-rottweiler" Patron is not racist. He is not discriminatory. In. Any. Way. He fucking hates EVERYBODY. Get the hell over it. He growls, barks, and otherwise makes an ass of himself to everyone. EVERYONE. If he doesn't know you, he doesn't like you. Period. Does he need some Cesar Millan on his ass? Probably, but he's not aggressive. He doesn't bite. In fact, he runs the other way when you come toward him. Which, in my opinion, is probably pretty damn smart. And, he's my dog, and I don't give a shit if he hates people he doesn't know because he loves the shit out of me.

What spurred this hatefest of obscenities, you ask? I went down to the hospital today to see Dad, who is cancer free and won't have to do chemotherapy, by the way! Yay! I digress. I took Pepe with me because he loves to ride, and he hates to be left at home alone. I leave him home all day in the crate while I'm at work, so I figure he deserves a little ride.

So, at the hospital you have to pay to park in their garage. Pay. At the hospital. Yeah, I've never heard of that either. So, I get my ticket, and park, and go see Dad, and come back. All the while, Pepe is sitting quietly in the backseat wrapped up in a blanket with a coat on. He's warm and toasty, and he's happy. And, he knows there is a ride home to look forward to. Trust me. I know my dog.

So, I get ready to leave, and I drive down, down, down, and I finally drive up to the exit. I give the lady my ticket, and Pepe's head pops out the window. Well, the lady has a sock cap on and her hood pulled up (it's cold as shit today!). It scares Pepe. So, of course, he starts growling. And, that bitch had the audacity to say to me, "He ain't used to seeing black people, is he?" The fuck you say, bitch? I should have said that. But I'd hate to get my ass kicked by her, and then be blamed, and be put in prison for a hate crime.

So, I politely try to say, no. I say, "I think it's your hood. I think it scares him." To which she replies, "Oh, he thinks I'm a thug." Oh. My. Fucking. God. No, he does not think you are a thug, but I think you are a racist bitch. He thinks you are someone he doesn't know, and he thinks you look funny with all that piled over your head, and he is scared of you because you are only, oh, I don't know, TWENTY times his size?

But the worst part is this woman obviously can't see she is being ridiculously racist and hateful because she keeps going on about how cute he is. My God, lady. You just accused me of having a racist dog, and now you want to tell me how cute that is? What-the-hell-ever. She goes on to tell me that I better watch out because someone might call and report me for leaving my dog int he car. Yeah, someone like YOU.

Wanna Play Tennis?

Pepe doesn't look like he's coming out of those nice, warm covers to play. But, heaven forbid you take that ball away. Or he's on your ass like white on rice on a paper plate in a snow storm. He's such a selfish little shithead.

Note: That tennis ball is about a 1/3 the size of a real one. Pepe is still tiny.

Dogs will be Dogs

Pepe is actually a real dog. Contrary to popular belief. And, yes, I have proof: Pepe sticking his little head out the window to feel the breeze!

See, Men Are Dogs!

In case anyone ever needed proof, here it is. Men really are dogs. I think the funniest thing about this is that Travis can fit in Pepe's crate. I mean, the dog is 5 pounds. His crate is big enough for a Greyhound. I think Pepe was really enjoying using him as a pillow. Although, I'm sure Travis wasn't nearly as comfortable, not just because of the cramped quarters, but because Pepe has about 1000 toys, and I had just put them all in his crate.

Peek-a-Boo

"Oh, Linz, not another post about your heathen child." I know, but I just thought he was being really cute, and I had to share that with you. I mean, those moments when he's not being a completely spoiled rotten little brat are fairly few and far between, but they do exist, and he's really just the sweetest dog. This was taken at my dad's when I was home this past weekend seeing my grandfather. Travis had left his clothes on the floor, and since clothes are Pepe's most favorite place ever to sleep, he had to take advantage. He crawled under Travis' shirt, but laid on top of the shorts. He covers himself up. It's kind of cute. Anyway, that's my kid.

My Little Brat

My dog is entirely too rotten. He is utterly and completely spoiled. He sits there looking at me like, "But, Momma, I have so many toys, I don't know which one to play with!" What a little fucker. And that's not even all of his toys. He can't even find them all. Yes, he is so spoiled that he loses toys on a daily basis and doesn't even care. He doesn't even miss them. Why? Because he has 47 more toys to play with! But, he is selfish. He won't let anyone else play with his toys. I can't even pick them up or I'll getting pounced on like a warm, juicy steak, right off the grill. And heaven forbid I try to put all his toys in his crate (which is the size of Texas, not the size of a 5 pound Chihuahua). He just tears them all back out 10 seconds later. I guess he thinks he doesn't have room for all those toys in there.

Single Hispanic Dog Seeks Skinny Bitch

Name: Pepe Patron

Height: 8 inches at shoulder

Length: 14 inches to base of tail

Weight: 4.9 pounds

Hair Color: Black with tan and white

Eye Color: Light Brown

Ethnicity: Hispanic (Mexican) (Legal citizen, born in Alabama)

Breed: Chihuahua

Registration: Yes

Fixed: Yes

Shots: Up-to-date

Fleas: No

Likes: Rolling in dead animals; Eating anything I can get my mouth on; Chasing cats; Humping my Reindeer, Alligator, and Eagle; Playing chase with anyone who will play; Barking at animals on the TV; Going to my grandparents to play; Sleeping; Hanging out with my mom; Running in the grass; Licking my privates in public; Hanging out with my buddy Mickey (Jack Russell Terrier); Attacking people who are hiding under blankets; Stealing dryer sheets and socks when mom isn't looking; Getting up early and jumping on mom; Hanging my head out the car window (but only if we are going less than 30 mph); Balling up under blankets

Dislikes: Going swimming; Wearing the clothes my mom puts on me; Vacuum cleaners; The vet; Mean people; People I don't know; Taking pictures; Sleeping late; Staying in my crate all day; Being still; Being held down when I'm playing; Lawnmowers; Baths; Getting my nails clipped; Getting my teeth brushed; Thunderstorms; When mom won't let me on the bed; Spankings; Being cold; The little black pieces in my food

GRRRR!

My son Pepe is the bestest boy ever. He has to be the cutest thing ever. He's so adorable I just want to eat him. But he isn't the typical Chihuahua. He isn't really aggressive and mean. In fact, if he knows you, he's pretty friendly. So, I couldn't resist posting this video of him growling because it's just so rare. It's fairly dark because there is just a lamp on in the room, but it's really about the sound. Make sure you turn up your volume pretty high to hear it. Again, sorry, but you'll have to wait until after work to watch this.

My Son, Pepe Patron

My son recently turned one year old. It was quite a milestone in his little life. He got birthday cake and ice cream. (I have pictures, but the digital was nowhere to be found that day, so we had to do it the old fashioned way, and I've yet to get my sorry ass to the store to develop them. I'll scan them once I do.) He loved the ice cream--almost as much as he loves his stuffed reindeer that he humps every single freakin' day of his life. Yes, Mr. Patron, if you haven't figured out yet, is a 4.5 lb humping machine of a Chihuahua. I thought I'd share a couple pictures of my baby with you because he is just so damn cute I want to eat him. Well, not really, I mean, I probably get enough Chihuahua in my diet at the Chinese Buffet...

Here is one of Mr. Patron (yes, Patron like the best tequila in the world!) being all gansta and ghetto in da hood:

And here is one of him playing in the snow in his adorable little faux shearling coat (it's obvious you're from the south when 1" of snow slush is worth all this excitement!):