I don’t know, sometimes it’s like a dog can’t do nothin’ right, you know? It’s like: I pee on the washing machine, and that’s WRONG. So I pee against the side of the couch, and THAT’S wrong too. So I pee against the freezer and, guess what? Also WRONG. I mean, what’s a Rubinman to do?
Well, I’ll tell ya what a Rubinman did. I peed INSIDE TERRY’S BIN, that’s what I did. Ha! And, it’s like, I know yoos are probably all, "OMG! How did he do it?" but seriously dudes, it wasn’t even that hard - not to a cunning fox wolf like me, anyways.
So, I’m sleeping in the "spare room" these days, right? And in the "spare room" is Terry’s bin. Now, it was so simple I totally don’t know how come I didn’t think of it before, because, it’s like, yesterday morning I wakes up (early, like always. So’s I can do a bit of barking before They get up) and that bin is sittin’ there right in front of me, and suddenly it just hits me: "I’m totally going to pee in you," I thought. So I did. Terry’s bin is like, made of wire, so alls I had to do was lift my leg against it and voila! (That’s "French", by the way, and it means "the pee totally landed in the bin". And, OK, some of it landed on the floor, too, but it’s the thought that counts, you know?)
Anyways, so I do that and then I hear Amber gettin’ up, and the next thing I know, she’s opened the door of the "spare room" and she’s totally standin there with this look on her face, like there’s a bad smell under her nose or somethin. And actually, there IS a bad smell under her nose, because she’s, like, standin right next to Terry’s BIN, and that thing, it don’t smell too good now, you know?
Amber does the whole "BAAAAAD!" thing with me, then she goes to Terry and she’s all, "Rubin peed in your bin," and then Terry’s like, "WHAT?!" and I first I thought he was impressed, but as it turns out, not so much because then HE does the "BAAAAD!" thing as well, and then all day they keep mentioning that bin. And it actually started to get on my nerves, to be honest, so tonight after dinner, what I did was, I peed against the side of the freezer again.
TOTAL overreaction from the pair of them, as usual, but especially from Terry, who was all upset because, it’s like, the freezer is right next to the back door? And the back door was open at the time? But I was like, SO WHAT? It was raining, and when was the last time Terry went out and peed in the back garden in the rain? Well EXACTLY.
I better be gettin somethin good for my "Christmas" is alls I can say, because they’re getting beyond a joke, they really are. It’s like, they better get me a CAR or somethin to make up for it. Then I can pee in that as well.
Everything you need to know (and some things you really DON’T need to know) about the Rubinman, by Amber…
Q. What IS Rubinman? A. Good question. Rubin is a pure-bred Bichon Frise (say “beezjon freesay”). He is NOT a poodle, although many people mistake him for one. He bites the bums of people who say that, though, so I’d watch it if I were you.
Q. Was Rubin REALLY raised by wolves? A. He claims to have been. We bought him from a woman in Dalkeith, but I GUESS he could have lived with wolves before that…
Q. How old is the Rubinman? A. Rubinman was born on January 15th, 2003. Be sure and send him presents. He’s all about the presents.
Q. Why is he always so dirty? A. Because the Rubinman, he likes to dig. And pee. Sometimes on himself.
Q. Does Rubin REALLY write his journal himself? A. Despite a lack of opposable thumbs, yes, it’s all his own work. *cough*
Q. Is the journal true? You just make it all up, don’t you? A. Absolutely not! Again, Rubin will bite you on the bum for even THINKING that. All of the events in Rubin’s journal really happened. Even that time with the fat kids. That’s why we don’t give out our real address…
Q. Why is he called Rubin? Is he some kind of sissy-dog? A. Rubin is named after Rubin “Hurricaine” Carter, a black fighter wrongly imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and a man with whom the Rubinman greatly identifies.
Q. Can I write to the Rubinman? A. Sure. Rubin loves the attention. His email address is rubin@writingworld.org. And before you ask, yes, he does check it himself.
Q. Will he write back? A. It depends how much he likes you. Bear in mind that the Rubinman is lazy. Oh, and that he’s a DOG
Q. Can I write to Terry and Amber? A. Well, you can if you want to. We weren’t raised by wolves or anything, though, so you may be disappointed. Reach us at info@hotigloo.co.uk
Q. Where does Rubin live? A. Rubin’s exact whereabouts are a secret. Sometimes even to us. We can exclusively reveal, however, that the Rubinman lives in a Hot Igloo somewhere in Scotland…
Q. Why does Rubin pee so much? A. I wish I knew. He says he’s “marking his territory”. We say he’s just a baaaaad boy.
Q. I’d like to meet Rubin, and pat his furry white head. Can I? A. Seriously, dude, you’d regret it. He smells. You’ll just have to make do with his blog, I’m afraid…
Q. I am a book publisher/film maker and I’d like to make Rubin a star. How much money do you want? Well, how much ya got? Make us an offer!
Q. I want a dog like Rubin! Where do I get one? A. A Rubinman is for life, not just because you saw a cute dog on some website. Remember, a dog like Rubin takes a LOT of looking after, and they give you a lot of cheek. If you like your house nice and your shoes intact, forget it. If you’re really serious about getting a Bichon, why not think about rescuing one?
That stupid rubbish bird is back again. I mean, it’s like, what’s a wolf got to do to get some peace round here? Last time it came I totally scared it witless, of course, so this time what dsoes it do? It brings "backup", that’s what. Yeah, it’s gotta accomplice. The accomplice is this "tortoise" and man, but it is ARMED. It’s like, totally covered in armour, it’s THAT scared of me! Hee! And, like, when it sees me? It goes and hides inside its armour. Stupid rubbish tortoise. Not feeling so brave now, Pepeman, are you? Ha! Lookit the terror on its face in this picture. I’ve, like, climbed up its basket and it’s all, "No, Rubinman, don’t hurt me!"
Obviously, as soon as it arrived, I went and did me a pee on the washing machine. THAT showed them who was boss round here. Since then I’ve been keeping a low profile, biding my time until it’s time to STRIKE. Today I DID have a total run-in with Amber, though. It’s like, what I did was, I went into the garden and I stared doing me a bit of barking at the woman next door. When Amber came out to try and "catch" me though, I was all, "like to see you try, sucker!" She did try, but I ran rings round her, and I mean I LITERALLY ran rings round her. Nobody puts Rubinman in the corner, I’ll tell ya.
Anyway, I came into the house when I was good and ready, and now me n’ Amber, we don’t talk no more. Shame, but I’d do it again if I had to.
Yeah, so nothing much happening this week, saved Amber’s life on Sunday, but seriously, all in a day’s work for the Rubinman, so not even worth talkin’ about really…
OK, I’ll talk about it, because actually, it might be a lesson to all of yoos who think it might be a good idea to mess with the Rubinman, because, let me tell you, you do NOT mess with the Rubinman. So, anyways, Sunday afternoon I take Amber for a walk, and we go for our walk in the woods behind the house because, it’s like, being part wolf and all, I’m totally comfortable in them woods, y’know? Anyway, I’m sniffing prowlin’ around like a mad thing, here a pee, there a pee, everywhere a pee pee, and next thing I know, this BAD MAN has jumped out of the wood, and he’s, like, totally threatening to kill Amber.
Well, I did what any wolf would have done in the circumstances: I started barkin’ like a maniac, totally threatening the guy and basically letting him know that the Rubinman was on the scene now, and that if there was any killin’ to be done, it would be the Rubinman that would be doin’ it. I would totally have bit his face off, and actually, I nearly did, but I could see Amber was scared, so I decided to get her out of there. And anyway, my barking frightened the dude so much that he up and ran away like a sissy girl. Hee! Rubinman to the rescue!
Later, the “poleece” came to interview me, and, I suspect, just to get a look at me. It’s not everyday you get to see a HERO, you know. I had been out digging me a hole and I was DIRRRTY. I was totally the SMELL too – really, really smelly - but the “poleece” was, like, totally awed by me, I could tell. He’ll probably dine out on the story for years.
I sat on Amber’s knee while she was talking to him cos I knew he would appreciate me being there – he could learn a lot from me. He said to Amber, “You’re just lucky your wolf was with you at the time. If it wasn’t for the quick thinking of young Rubin here, well, none of us would be here today.” It’s true, you know, and Amber knew it. When the “poleece” left, she gave me a JUMBONE and even Terry kept going on about how BRAVE I was. “Like a lion,” Terry said – I bet he’ll think twice about giving me a row for peeing in the house in the future.
I think the “poleece” are probably going to ask me to join the force. I won’t go though – it’s obvious how much my Amber and Terry rely on me just now, I mean they can’t look after themselves at ALL. I’ve got, like, all the responsibility for looking after them resting on my furry shoulders now – it’s just a good job I’m WOLF really, I mean, I don’t think many dogs would be as brave as me…
Well, I was right: they done sent me to Las Vegas, folks.
The thing about that, though? They sent Almeida with me.
Now, for those of yoos who don’t know, this is Almeida (named after the great Tony Almeida, no less.):
Now, I know what yoos are thinkin’. He’s a big boy, is Almeida. He’s, like, almost as big as ME (note: NO ONE is ACTUALLY as big as me, though). That’s why me n’ Almeida are special friends, if you get my drift, and that’s also why when we pulled up at Las Vegas (which, seriously, is only about 20 minutes from my house, which just goes to show that it REALLY IS a small world after all, people), I was all, “OMG, they’ve booked me n’ Almeida into a hotel for the weekend!” And they had.
I mean, it wasn’t that great, to be honest. Like I said, I’ve been there before, and I totally don’t rate the Las Vegas, I really don’t. This time round I thought I’d picked up some tips from Amber and Terry, so when the guy came round with my dinner I was all, “I’ll have the Grande Buffet, thanks, and so will my man Almeida. Anythin’ he doesn’t eat, the Rubinman’ll take care of, you get me?” But I don’t know why I even bothered because, it was like, they still brought me DOG FOOD?
Anyway, after two nights, my Norma and John turned up and took me home with them and I was like, THANK GOD FOR THAT, MAN. I get treated WAY better at my Norma and John’s house than I do at home, and I get away with more stuff, too. This one time? I snuck under my John’s chair and did me a pee, and - get this: THEY WERE LOOKIN’ RIGHT AT ME WHEN I DID IT! I, like pretended I was just goin’ for a lie down, but really I was doin’ me a pee, and man, how me n’ Almeida laughed after THAT, I’ll tell you!
Anyways, so two weeks go by and suddenly A & T turn up, all santanned and stuff, and - get this - they’re STILL talkin’ about that stupid wedding, which was crazy really because, it’s like, they can keep on talking about, but it still won’t make it interesting, you know what I mean? So, they take me home, and I’m all, “This sucks, I want to go and live with my Norma and John again, they got better sweeties,” but then A & T give me my presents that they brought me back from their “honeymoon” and it’s all OK again because lookit what it is! It’s a blue camel, dudes - a BAMEL! Have YOU got a BAMEL in your life? Didn’t think so.
(They also brought me back something else, but it’s like, I’m still too angry to speak about it, so that’ll haveta wait for another day. Smell yas!)
Now, I don’t want yoos all to get too jealous here, but it’s like, I think I might be goin’ to Las Vegas again. I’m not that bothered about it. I mean, I’ve been before, and let me tell you, it’s not all that great, Las Vegas. Last time I went was, like, totally WEIRD. Amber and Terry were goin’ and so were my Norma and John, so I was like, "OK, cool, goin’ to Las Vegas," so I packed up my ponkies, we all get in the "car", and then what happened was, we drove to this place that was totally like a DOG KENNEL, and I mean, TOTALLY. There’s no Elvis, there’s no slot machines, there’s NUTHIN there. And I was like, "This Vegas totally sucks," and I didn’t even see Amber and Terry all week, so it’s like, their kennel must’ve been on another part of The Strip?
When they eventually turned up they were all, "Blah blah slot machines, blah blah Grand Canyon, blah blah all-you-can-eat-buffet-at-The-Bellagio" and I was like, "EH? Weren’t no SLOT MACHINES on my part of the strip, no siree. And ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFETS?! I was eatin’ DOG FOOD every night. EVERY NIGHT, people. And it wasn’t all I could eat either - not even close. I mean, this is the Rubinman, I once ate seven cats, y’know? So, it’s like, I know people totally rave about the Las Vegas, and don’t get me wrong, it was OK, but it’s like, it wasn’t GREAT, you know what I mean?
So, anyways, last week Amber and Terry are talkin’ about their freakin’ WEDDING AGAIN. (GOD, when will they shut up about that already? I mean, it’s not like there’s even anything good happening at it. They got no ponkies, no wolves, NOTHIN) and suddenly Terry’s all, "Oh, and we’ll need to book Rubin into Las Vegas again" and I was like: ?????????????!!!!
I think I’m only going for two nights this time while they’re having their stupid "wedding", then I’m staying with my Norma and John but even so, it’s like, long way to go for TWO NIGHTS, no? And all I can say is, they better have booked me a better hotel this time. Like, one with an all you can eat buffet and stuff. Yeah, they better do that or I will NOT be happy, and trust me, they will NOT LIKE IT if the Rubinman’s not happy…
So, at the weekend it was Amber’s "birthday", but guess who got presents? YES, it was ME - the Rubinman got presents, and let me tell you, that’s exactly the way it should be, because do you know what Amber and Terry got me for MY "birthday"? NOTHING, that’s what. NOTHING. Anyways, it’s like, they totally got me a present for Amber’s "birthday" and this is what it was:
YES! It’s a BLING COLLAR! A "BLOLLAR!" Got me a BLOLLAR and damn, but I look mighty fine in my Blollar, let me tell you. I’d show you, but it’s like, I’m keepin’ it for special occassions, like when I take Amber out for a walk and we haveta go past all me bitches in the street. For real. And also: because my hairs are so WILD, you can’t really see the Blollar too good. Still, I got one, and, you know, that’s more than you got, so there.
Now, I know what you’re thinkin’ about me n’ my BLOLLAR. Yoos are all, "Nancy boy got a gold collar with SPARKLY BITS on it! First he gets a PINK BOWL then he gets a freakin’ BLOLLAR, what is he, some kind of sissy?" Well, the Rubinman is NOT a sissy, and I’ll tell yoos how I know. Lookit this: does HE look like a sissy to you?
No, I didn’t think so. It’s my man 50 Cent - note the BLOLLAR. Yeah, old 50 Cent, he got his BLOLLAR on back to front, but that’s ‘cos he is NO WAY as cool as the Rubinman. He’ll learn. In the meantime, I’m off to strut my stuff show off my ice, ice baby. Smell yas!
S’up? Rubinman here - yes, THE Rubinman!!! How’re ya? So, I am writing this “letter” because I saw yoos on the “teevee” yesterday, and everyone was all, “GOD, lookit Britney, you can totally see her pants, and also, SHE IS NOT WEARING NO PANTS!!” Well, anyways, I noticed you were getting, like, a really hard time, so I thought I’d just let you know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE, Britney. No, in fact, I myself got caught in a few “crotch shots” over the Christmas period, so, it’s like, here they are:
Yeah, so I’m a bit blurred in this one, but it’s OK ‘cos, it’s like, I can totally get away with it, ya know what I mean, Brit? Me’n Paris had been out drinkin, and we were totally WRECKED, but, it’s like, that doesn’t make me a bad Bichon, y’know?
Yeah, here I am, legs “akimbo”. SO?!?!
Yes, that IS a Santa suit I’m wearin’… I would let you borrow it, but, it’s like, the Rubinman DOES NOT SHARE. What you totally CAN borrow, though, if you want, is my Yoda suit , only don’t you tell anyone it was me that gave you it, okay, because that is SO not cool…
So, as you can see, Britney, the “crotch shot” can happen to any of us - even me. I know! And all them people that have been sayin’ bad words about you, Britney, they are just JEALOUS so don’t you bother about them. The Rubinman knows how to handle those people, and don’t you forget it. Also, while I’m here, you probably noticed that it was “Christmas” yesterday (Well, maybe you didn’t, Britney. I dunno if you were a “good girl” or not, and if you weren’t, it’s like, Santa wouldn’t have visited you, you know?) and so you’re probably all “OMG, I wonder what the Rubinman got from Santa?!” Well, ponder on, Britney, because I’m totally going to keep you in suspense until tomorrow, or maybe the day after, depends how “busy” I am.
Yeah, so this is NOT the Rubinman… I know y’all come here specifically to see the Rubinman, but, it’s like, he ain’t here. The Rubinman doesn’t dress up in stupid sissy Yoda clothes, no way man. No, this is… this is a WOLF speaking on his behalf. Yeah, a wolf. A wolf in Rubinman’s clothing. No, wait, NOT in Rubinman’s clothing – the Rubinman doesn’t HAVE clothing like this. Stupid ass wolf.
Anyway, Rubin would just like it to be known that if Amber and Terry ever DID buy a Yoda suit, and if they ever made Rubin WEAR that there Yoda suit, Rubin would bite both their bums. And also: if any of yoos are laughin’ at me him right now, he will bit all your bums too, every last of them, and don’t even think he wont.
