Unbeknownst to me, someone let a two-bit mutt biotch into my castle yesterday. Ever since I installed a moat, I have lived a life of solitude free from the unwanted intrusions of disease-ridden bitches like this one:

You’ll notice I’m bearing my teeth at her, a move of mine once dubbed by a reporter as “something you should live life each day hoping not to see.” That’s because I have what is known as “plaque”, which I think is Greek for “bloodcurdling fangs”. Don’t bother looking that up, I would know. I was once dubbed an honorary Greek God by King Gyros 24/7 Pita Palace. I have the crown to prove it, but I don’t want to go get it because it’s in the trash compactor. Seriously though, don’t fuck with me!

OMG, you guys, tonight I finally did it.   I rolled on my very own without any need for prodding or prompting.  A huge piece of chicken was the payoff.  When the command came, everything just clicked (after about 15 seconds of confusion), and I did it.  I rolled over.

I mean, this doesn’t change who I am.  I’m still just Scout, the little dog you love.  PSYCH!! I FUCKING ROLLED OVER I’M AMAZING WOOOOOOOO!!1

Being the international galactic regional balla’ that I am, who never gets kenneled and forgotten about for a week or anything silly like that, I’m chillin’ in some desolate third-world country right now to get away from all the glitter and paparazzi I am almost always probably encountering. Evidently the “people” here are pretty brave because even though I’m huge and have vicious fangs, one of them stole my 24k diamond-studded dog tag today. I mean, here I am, worldwide superstarin’ it up, and BAM! Dog tag gone. Never saw it coming.

Luckily I’m univeralistic and throw around 24k diamond-studded things all the time, mainly to attract bitches, so I’m not worried about the material loss. Diamonds are bug lamps for bitches. As silly and helpless as we regard mosquitos for wandering right into a purple light of death, why too do we not laugh at ho’s who view a rock picked up off the ground as the treasure of their very existence? I’ll tell you why we don’t laugh: bitches like stuff that’s shiny. That’s why the twinkle in my eye has me fending off da’ ho’s more than an NBA-player in a strip club.

But on a serious note, now that my identity was stolen by a gypsy with no respect for their fellow kind, (note the gypsy=dog reference), I’ll probably wind up being euthanized in a shelter soon since no one knows who I am anymore.