Monday, December 29, 2003

Dad, Mom, Finley and I took the Z4 down Laurel Canyon to Beverly Hills this morning. Mom had to sign the grant deed to her condo in West Hollywood. I'm glad she is selling it, because I like where we live, way up in the hills above the city, where there are lots of rats.

For the outing, I wore my red and white sweater with the snow flake on it and Finley wore her sexy Italian harness which looks like some sort of a porno canine garter belt for the chest area.

Mom wore her new Dolce & Gabanna red and black boots and her red cashmere and dog hair coat. She was pissed because of Dad's "ridiculous outfit."

"Why are you wearing stained pants with pleats, slippers, a gimme jacket from Politically Incorrect and a ski hat that looks like it belongs on a cleric?" said Mom.

Dad just did what he always does when she is annoyed with him. He sinks his head into his chest, hunches his shoulders and makes a depraved retard face. I love it when he makes his retard face because Mommy squeals like a squeaky toy, laughing.

So we parked really far from the real estate office and Finley and I peed on every tree, lamp post and doorway on Rodeo Drive. Finley shit right in front of Chanel and some people took a picture of Mom picking up a runny, yellow poop with the grant deed envelope.

There were a lot of Japanese tourists on Rodeo Drive who wanted to meet us. They weren't barbarian Chinese people, they were definately Japanese, because they were staring at us in a cute way, not in a "ooh, dat dogga rooka deericious" kind of way. Dad said Japs like Beverly Hills because the Japanese Yen is so high right now, and, as we are never allowed to forget in our house, the DOLLAR is worthless!
The Yen is at 106 to the US Dollar, so dogs waiting for their people in Japan are going to get all kinds of American balls and squeaky toys from Beverly Hills. But what do I care about the export potential in a weak dollar? I'm never going to Japan, which is way, way too close to China and korea, where there are giant monsters who cook us up, NO! Mom and Dad are just obsessed with international currency fluctuations.

At the escrow office, the fat escrow lady liked me and wanted to touch me with her piggy hands. I didn't let her. Mom signed the papers and was finger printed while Dad waited with Finley in the outer office reading "horrible consumer magazines" in his bum outfit.

So now that Mommy has sold her apartment, she is stuck with Dad and the Back Street Boy who is living in the condo has to move.

Mom is happy to be evicting the Back Street Boy, because he is an awful whiner and Dad thinks he' acts like a princess with a pea under his mattress. Mom says he's a spoiled brat and last summer, he made Mom go all the way down to the condo to kill 3 ants for him. "What kind of fucking wimp is afraid of ants and makes a woman kill them for him?" Mom said. "He is such a no talent pussy." I'd love to bite him but Mom would get sued and she says, "you never sue people richer than you are, never!"

Mommy knows all about law suits. This is Hollywood. She sued an airline and won.

While we were walking around Beverly hills, we passed the Bev Hills cheese shop. The entire pack loves cheese and we wanted some good stinky, runny French stuff, but the bastards wouldn't let us in. Something about the health regulations. I don't understand this lousy shit law. In Paris, we go to all cheese shops.

Tonight, we're going to chill, eat pasta and watch a pirate movie in the game room.


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