Hey yo! It’s Doug E. Fresh! She has been keeping me from my adoring fans and I am so sorry, that just ain’t cool, amiright?
As a reminder, here is my beautiful Chick Magnet being:
Here are some updates for all the interwebs people that love The Doug:
- My belly is broken. I have no idea what that means but i’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that I used to eat great food (and throw it up) and then I ate food that tasted like cardboard (and did not throw up) and then I moved up to a slightly more favorable food and yeah, throw up. The people at the shiny floor facility said I cannot eat the cardboard long term, and well YEAH, no sh!t, it tastes like butt. No wait, butt tastes good, it taste like cats. Because I hate cats.
- Speaking of cats, I guess she thought Bob #2 was dead but now he is alive and since he started coming back to see her again she is all like ‘oh Bob, I love you so much, here you go, have the best food ever made because you are the greatest…’. Just stop. I live INSIDE the house and eat cardboard and he lives outside WHERE STUPID CATS BELONG and he gets food flown in on a private jet from Fancy Catville. Don’t ask me how I know it’s delicious, I just do. Also, cat food makes me throw up too.
- When I come down the steps in the morning I go top speed, miss a few, ram by beautiful body into the island stools and keep on running, all day long. She calls me Mr. Lunatic. Then, at 7pm when I try to go to bed and I have to take one step at time and go slow-poke-mode, she calls me Grandpa Joe. She is dumb. My name is Doug.
- She is not all terrible. She takes me for rides to nowhere, I am pretty sure she does that just to make me happy. But then sometimes she takes me to the ER shiny floor vet because of all the throw up and those are the moments I find her less desirable as a s’mother. She should only be allowed to take me for rides to Starbucks and to see my soulmate, Grandpa.
- I’m on a die. What? It’s not called die? I think I’d know what it’s called and also because I MAY DIE IF YOU DON’T START FEEDING ME MORE. (Apparently, it’s Diet. I think the ‘t’ might be silent though).
- She was supposed to go a concert in tex’s ass and, huh? That is so how you spell it. Tex’s ass. Texas is not a word, stop. Anyway she was supposed to go to a concert and I got sick so she stayed with me. She is not all bad.
- I take that back, she is horrible. She has forgotten to feed me today. What the frick? She said someone wants to photograph my beautiful belly but what does that have to do with her STARVING ME? What is the hotline number for s’mothers who don’t feed their dogs and then brazenly EAT BREAKFAST IN FRONT OF THEIR EYEBALLS AS EXTRA TORTURE?
I cannot continue this post as I am about to pass out from hunger…