THE WORLD IS MY POTTY

My mommy keeps making a big deal of where I use the potty. I can't please her. The carpet looks like dog poop on its best day with shades of dark brown, medium brown, and beige in random shapes. I'm just doing her a favor and she doesn't appreciate it. For awhile, I pooped on the tile floor and then moved under the dining table where she had to get down on her hands and knees to clean it up. I thought I was helping her by moving it to the living room behind the sofa, but people walk behind the sofa and they have such poor senses, they just step in it and then things hit the fan.
I'm a little tired of being told to go to my potty in the bathroom. I'll go where I please. She is not the boss of me.
Did you check out that red weenie, so called "Ruby the Good Weiner of the South"? Well, let me tell you something about that b---h! She came for a sleep over one time and she barfed all the way from Houston. So soon as she got here, she had to have a bath. I say, "if you don't want a bath, don't barf on yourself". She wouldn't go potty outside, but then who does? I sure don't. Anything could happen to you out there, when you have your guard down. Anyway, not to get off the subject, when it was bedtime, that red, you know what, peed on my mommy's guest bed, quilt, featherbed, sheets and everything. Well, one day, after everything was cleaned up, I got up there and peed too. After all I thought it was the right thing to do. Ruby is older than me and should be my role model. According to the way my mommy acted, this was not acceptable behavior.
I'm in the dog house again.