Big Bad Doberman

Can I just say that I’m not proud of the name Willis? I can’t imagine how one might affix the name Willis to, well, me. It’s doesn’t really fit the image I’m going for here. For example:

I’m not sure about you, but when I look at this picture, the name Willis doesn’t exactly come to mind. For me, having a name Willis is like being jammed in a pair of pants (if I were human) that is 2 sizes too small and asking if my butt’s too big. Of course it is! It’s obvious to everyone but you how silly you look! Now go eat more salad and wear pants with stretchy elastic waists so no one will notice.

Willis. Thanks, I’m pretty happy about this.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that my human companions are a little vacant, based off their TV watching habits. Who watches, or maybe even more importantly, who cares about those entertainment magazine TV shows? I can’t think of anything less significant that worrying about what person with a familiar face who I’ve never met is in rehab. The brain drain that occurs when Access Hollywood comes on is galling to be sure, but what bothers me even more is that people actually make careers following other people around and reporting on the mundane details of theirs lives. Um, is it just me or would that be really, really unfulfilling? I get so depressed thinking about paparazzi that I want to watch Sex and the City so that I can at least get a good nap in. For what it’s worth, for the best night’s sleep ever, Sex and the City’s the ticket.

For my next rant, I would just like to say that American’s are fat. I base my statement on two observations. First my humans are both chunky, and so are all their friends and their friends kids, (hey kids, less video games, more running outside). Second, based off the ample doggie bags they bring home from their restaurants, and given their voracious appetites which keep the family food bills high, I’d say they eat too much. Why does a meal served to one have to be big enough to feed a family of four? Who eats half a chicken, 3 ice cream scoops of mashed potatoes, a pile of vegetables, and a nice light dessert of chocolate cheesecake at one sitting, (and don’t forget the soda that was refilled 6 times)? Apparently Americans. Perhaps having a big belly is pleasurable. Perhaps huffing and puffing to get up from the couch is desirable. Perhaps popping buttons on shirts and pants is the latest trend in Hollywood. For myself, I wouldn’t know. I’m Willis the big bad doberman.