SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUP my loyal subjects. It’s been a while since ol’ Gus cracked open the internet box and typed up himself one of them blogs. Why is that? It’s because I tried “vlogging” for a while but that never took because it was 10-minute videos of me barking at nothing and licking my own nether regions and apparently YouTube HAS SOMETHING CALLED “COMMUNITY STANDARDS” AND TOOK IT DOWN.
My owner said “Sh-t” on TV years ago and got docked 25 points but HEY, guess what you can still find on YouTube? THIS VERY CLIP. Double-standard much, internet? Sheeeesh.
So anyways, got a LOT to cover in a short amount of time – it’s scotch-and-cigars night with the bison and they get mad when you arrive late.
First, over a year ago, my owner yells “Slide job!” really loud on the TV and y’all react like I do when the mailman pulls up. Apparently none of y’all have been subjected to Dale Jr. yelling things at you for YEARS like I have. You aren’t victimized by a shrill “GUS, NO! GUS, NO!” every time I’m humping a stuffed animal in the living room when company’s over. MAN that pissed him off. First off, I’m a dog, that’s what I do. Second, how the hell was I supposed to know it belonged to Isla? Pardon me for not discerning and keeping an open mind.
The fact is, he yells stuff all the time. “DON’T EAT THAT!” “DON’T USE MY EBAY ACCOUNT!” “DON’T USE MY GOOD ELECTRIC BEARD TRIMMER ON YOUR BUTT!” I’m like I GOTS TO KEEP IT CLEAN, GINGER. Y’all love it but it’s been the bane of my existence for years. That and when I’m standing there as he eats a sandwich hoping for some cold cuts to fall on the floor and all I get is mayonnaise dripping onto my head. Know how hard it is to get mayonnaise out of your own fur? It’s like transcribing a Ward Burton interview.
On to Isla – I have to admit that she is absolutely adorable and a lot of fun to play with. I like when mom takes me and Isla for walks. So many people walk up and bend down and look at Isla in that little stroller, her big eyes staring back at them, and remarking about what a doll she is. Am I jealous? No. It’s actually a ploy she and I came up with. She distracts them, and I sniff their butts. Call it collusion if you want, I don’t care – butt-sniffing has NEVER been easier. TEAM ISLAGUS.
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Hold on, Alex Bowman’s dog is calling. I gotta take this. MAN, Alex Bowman, what a guy, and his dogs are a blast. Everyone likes to joke that Alex is still in his rookie year. That’s why I always tell his dogs “Hey, you’re seven!” Get it? It’s a dog years joke. Go to hell, that joke was grade-A beef. Anyways, they were over the night that Alex won at Chicagoland, and we all went over to Alex’s for the celebration. Dude goes through beers like backup cars.
They were making noise, chugging maple syrup – basically everything that we would get in trouble for. We all had a good laugh at Alex getting the car stuck in the infield grass. We bury things in the dirt all the time. Usually our owners’ belongings or animal carcasses. Hell, there’s one of Dale’s Asics I took out to the Old West town and buried deeper than Daniel Suarez buried Michael McDowell. HA.
OK, that’s all for now, sorry to keep it short. You heard of the Big 3? Well, subtract one, and that’s what I gotta do out in the backyard. Peace.