Tuesday

Number of roommates sleeping here last night: four
Number of beers in the fridge left over from the barbecue last Wednesday: seven
Number of times Bee has said how much she hates New York today: four
Number of M&Ms Bee had at work today in an effort to quell her funky mood:" thirty

Oooh, gossip. Rumor has it Aye broke up with the boyfriend. No more beach trysts. No more holding hands on the Boardwalk. Just as well, summer's almost over anyway.

Doncha know no good

I don't understand why Cee frowns at me. So I jump on her friends when they come over. It's because I like them. So I lick her toes when she comes out of the shower. It's because I like the taste of lotion--and I lick all of the roommates' toes!

So I follow her to her room, jumping on her legs, her freshly dry cleaned work pants, and her Argentinian suede sandals. But I don't go into her room becasue I know I've been barred from entry after I snuck in there and peed on her Turkish rug.

But really, does she have to give me that look of paralyzing fear every time I rush over to her, begging for love, pleading for a quick show of approval? She SAYS I'm cute, but she treats me like a leper compared to the way Aye, Bee and Dee love me. I just want to feel like she likes me. I like her.

It hurts me to know that there might be someone in this huge borough that doesn't particularly care for me. My ears are drooping. My eyes have a little doggie tear. Although my name is Lucy, my heart hangs heavy like Charlie Brown's. Wah.

I'm a slut

I just can't help myself! I like being social!! And I know that Bee loves it when I meet new people. I met three new guys today for Bee (and she complains that she never meets men!). Last night, a nice Jewish guy named D. stopped Bee to ask about me. "What kind of dog is that?" "She's very cute!" "How old?" " Wow." was the extent of his conversation with Bee. He was coming from temple because he was dressed in a suit and wore his yarmulke.

As Bee was walking me this evening, we ran into him and his friends in the street, wearing more Abercrombie and Fitch type clothing. Although I saw a familiar face, Bee had no idea who the guy was. He stopped us again.

"Do you remember me from last night?" He said. Bee acknowledged. And then, he went for the hard sell. "I'm D."
"Bee"
"You know, I have a question for you, actually I,..uh..well...here's the deal, I'm having a barbecue right now and you should come, because I want you to."

I want to go!! I want to go!! YEAH!! Barbecued meat!!!, I thought. Bee was a little more hesistant.

"We really have to get home," she said. "Besides, I can't wander into a stranger's apartment."

"C'mon," he said. "I'm Jewish. We're harmless."

Bee replied, "Wasn't Son of Sam Jewish?"

D. did not have a reply. "Alright, ONE. One bad seed!!! But we're generally harmless."

Bee told D. she would consider coming to a future barbecue. She gave him her number and dragged me away from the gang. See! Now there's another solid example of how I have leveraged another potential relationship for Bee. And not only have I introduced Bee to a nice, sweet potential mate, I got her to invite her friend Emme to join us. I hooked two single ladies up.

I'm better than any online dating site.

Friday

Number of roommates who slept here last night: four (what?!)
Number of beers in the refrigerator from Wednesday's raucous BBQ: twenty
Number of times Bee has gone to the fridge and nearly puked from the reminder of how much she drank at said BBQ: seven
Number of bags of chips Aye swiped from the kitchen from said BBQ without politely asking if she could claim: one

It's a lazy summer Friday, and I'm feeling just as lazy as Dee, who's on the couch sleeping through an episode of Seinfeld. If it were CSI, she'd be wide awake.

Bee told me she saw Louis today, that tan colored Frenchie from down the block. Damn! I like him. And I think his owner would be a cute match for Bee. But neither Bee nor I can decide if his dad is straight or gay. Bee swears she saw him with a girlfriend type person, yet I think I smell the homosexual everytime I see him. Mystery.

An even bigger mystery than trying to find out why Cee has only slept here twice in the last two weeks.

Big bunch of drunkards

Contradiction of the day: Bee.

Yes, you, Bee. You sit here and you cry and weep about not fitting into your skinny jeans, and then what do you do? Proceed to down an entire bottle of Sauvignon Blanc with your coworkers and roommates at your BBQ and eat three different kinds of meats, even though you claim to be not too big on swine. And then you top it all off with fist over fist portions of lime flavored tortilla chips.

I'm not judging. I'm just saying don't be a contradiction. If you're all on the health tip, cool. If you choose to fall off the health tip, cool. But don't go bitching about tight jeans when you've eaten a dozen Milano cookies. "My jeans don't fit! My $200 pair of Joe's corduroys do NOT FIT!!!!!"

You know the consequences of your food decisions. Just be happy you have all of your fingers (and toes and limbs for that matter) to be able to pluck a Milano cookie from the bag!

And don't haul my little black ass around umpteen city blocks because you want to burn extra calories after you've fallen off the diet wagon. I should not have to catch heat stroke because of your inability to find nutritional balance. I have accepted my rotund frame and have chosen to feed it whatever it wants. If it wants to expand a pound or two in the winter months, so be it.

I almost died!!

Not two hours after I shared my version of Sex in the City with you, I nearly died in an accident yesterday.

It was my fault. Bee dropped the leash and I thought it was my opportunity to explore new ground. But I didn't know that not all open spaces contained safe, grassy acreage. Some have cars.

When Bee walked me outside for our evening walk, she had her cell phone, her keys and an oversized plastic bag in her hands. She didn't have enough fingers to grab the leash. So it accidentally slipped out of her hands, and I took off up Broadway. And I didn't look both ways before I booked across the street! I was freeeeee!!!!!

Bee, in a skirt and heels, was running behind me, screaming my name, and screaming for someone to catch me. But I outran her. I outran them all! I loved the breeze in my hair, whusshing through my oversized bat ears!! Ahhh, no more Bee tugging me from behind!! No more going only where SHE goes!!! No more....

"Gotcha!" an unidentified stranger said as he grabbed the leash in front of Starbucks. Bee rushed up behind me and thanked the gentleman responsible for my capture. I braked. I heeled. I was cooked.

Bee scooped me up and carried me back to my crate. After my taste of freedom, it seemed like my own little Rikers. Sigh.

Sugar Daddy

So after making googly eyes at the construction workers who are building a high rise across the street from the apartment, my efforts have paid off. I first targeted the burly Staten Island crew two Fridays ago on my morning walk. I refused to go back inside, so I dragged my paws so Bee would have to carry me home. Bee hates when I do that. She starts singing her little song when she's pissed at me, "Fren-chie for sa-ale!!"

(Whatever, she's never getting rid of me. I'm too cute.)

As we walked to the front stoop, the Foreman, a forthcoming, barrel-chested, capped-teeth Italian man came over to say,"that is the cutest dog, lookadat face!" Granted he was stating the obvious, but I went over anyway and snuggled under his chin. I poured it on THICK! I licked his face and nuzzled his ear. I had this guy in my right paw.

Another construction guy came over and yells, "whaddayadoing?! What is that?!" He started to play with me, too. Bee is stunned at all of the attention. Another guy yelled from a dump truck across the street, "I saw that dog on America's Most Wanted" (sarcastic twit). The entire crew is now watching me sass. Work has ceased on the new building.

So three of the biggest, macho construction workers in New York cooed and aww-ed over me. Bee stood on the street speechless. Frankly, she's not obliged to say much because my puppy eyes are doing all the talking. The guys introduced themselves and said things like "Lucy, you're my girl now." Bee was troubled. Does that mean she is also, "their girl" as well? Bee began sweating.

Foreman then said, "I don't like her collar. I wanna buy her a new one."
"Why? What's wrong with the one she has?," Bee responded.
"I don't like it. She needs real diamonds. A little bling blling. Yes, you do Luuuucyyy...(gives me kisses on forehead)."
"Whatever, this collar has diamonds," said Bee.
"Not real ones!," said Foreman.
"Fine if you want to buy her one, do it."

So every day for the last two weeks, no matter if Bee walked me at six or eight in the morning, the boys always said hello. The second we leave the house, they yelled, "Hey, Loo-cee!!!" Then I would run over and snuggle against their tree trunk-shaped legs and give them the smile and the eyes. Oh, they ate it up!! Bee just smiled nervously, and tried not to blush.

This morning, Foreman came through on his promise. When Bee and I went out this morning, Foreman and his boys were waiting. "I've got something for ya," he said, while his crew looked on, smiling. "He's got something for ya," says the second in command.

Sure enough, Foreman bought me a pink diamond studded collar. Bee was shocked. The whole crew and eager commuters rushing to work stopped to watch Foreman gently slip the collar on my neck as if he were putting a Tiffany pendant on his own daughter. He hoisted me in his lap and sang to me as he adjusted the diamonds so they would shine off of the sun as I strutted down the block. The crew cheered, "Hey, hey! Now she's a real show dawg!" I was giddy!

Ah, what powers I possessed!!

If I could woo such a macho man to buy me diamonds, hell, what could I get from another Lucy lover? And what could I swindle for Bee? A trip to the country? More jewelry? What targets should I seek out next? The guy who drives the silver Range Rover? The Starbucks barista? Oh, the potential!

I'm the best accessory Bee's ever had. Once I get her some hot bachelor in a giving mood, she'll never sing "Frenchie for sale" again.

Wasted!!

Number of roommates that slept here last night: one, cause Bee didn't come home until the sun came up Sunday morning. So she doesn't count.
Number of margaritas Bee drank in Riverside park today: two (nope, she hadn't sobered up from the night before).
Number of bottles of Gatorade Bee drank on Sunday: two.


Man, I have been abandoned so many Saturday nights in a row ever since all of Bee's friends came back from Japan or Chicago or wherever. That crazy chick had been on a bender.

I met someone new today in Riverside Park. A beautiful spaniel named Jerry. Man, was he hot. Hairy, and all gums for smile. Belonged to a friend of Bee's from work.

I'd still do him tho.

He was older (two and half years old) and wise. We shared a water bowl. It was sweet. Hope Bee meets up with again.

Bugs

Can someone please tell Nicole Richie that she looks like a fly in those damn oversized sunglasses?
Sheesh.

It's a soggy day in NYC, meaning Bee won't be taking me to the park to play. I love going there and seeing new canines. I love my block and the seven other Frenchies between Broadway and West End, but sometimes I need a little variety. I can only smell the same butts for so long.

Cee came in the other night and explained why she's been gone so much. No she wasn't offended by me shedding on the couch. She has been working overtime, and her family from Brazil is here. She gave me a few kisses before she went back to Jersey.

Dee is really serious about the whole working out/eating right thing. Girl has been kicking it at the gym on a regular. Haven't heard any stories of harassment, so that must mean the boys are becoming intimidated by her ever-growing muscles.

And Bee, my always frustrated owner. Now she's swearing because she realized that she made a mistake in something she wrote for work. I told her it's just a job. She insists she'll be getting fired. I think she should relax.

Working for a living

Number of roommates sleeping here: two
Number of French bulldogs in a crate because she can't seem to control her bladder: one
Number of celebrity magazines on the living room table: five
Number of celebrity magazines with Angelina Jolie on the cover: two

Bee's been working so much these last two days. She thinks she's going to get me a dog walker in two weeks so that I can get some exercise during the day. I guess she's worried about both her weight and mine. I think she's going to get the same guy who will walk Spencer down the block. Oooh, then I will have someone to hump me.

That means I'll have sex before Bee. Hehe.

Anyway, what's going on here. Cee is out gallivanting with her Spanish filmmaker boyfriend. I'm guessing they're sipping tea at some romantic café, talking about art and opera. Smooching over croissants.

Dee is downstairs. Watching CSI.

Aye is out of town with her Fire Island flame. Seems like things are getting serious.

And I am just praying that Bee lets me out for a walk. It's ten o'clock, and all of the other Frenchies are out for their last walk. I want to go play. PLAY!!!!! Must sniff crotch!!! Must sniff booty!!!!

CSI

Number of roommates sleeping here: two
Number of episodes of CSI that have been viewed by those two roommates: two
Number of roommates who went to the gym tonight: one
Number of meals eaten by roommates: three

Bee is depressed because she eats too much and can't motivate to go to the gym. Well, most people would just cut back on food and hit the gym, but Bee would rather sit on the couch and not move--to the gym or to the fridge. Dee is eating a salad and working out because she, too claims she's on a diet. Cee, being the lithe, skinny Brazilian one, was blessed with good genes and has no reason to diet. Aye eats like a man--steak, potatoes, chips-but manages to keep her slim boyish figure. Straight and narrow. Looks good in jeans.

I don't care about mah weight. I know the boys on the block like me wit' a little meat on my bones.

Dee

Uh, hello? Is anybody down there? Ah, yes, Dee. The fourth roommate and the most recent tenant. Blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Works at Goldman Sachs, but would rather be designing shoes. 5'9" with D cups. Needless to say, she's not lonely much.

Number of guys she's escorted into our apartment since my arrival: four
Number of purses: thirteen
Number of trips to the gym in the last week: two
Number of times she walks me throughout the day: once if Bee can't make it home by seven
Number of drunken nights spent outside of the apartment in a year's time: three. Does one count if she slept on our front stoop?

Dee has an infectious attitude--happy go lucky, positive and a boisterous laugh that makes even the Grinch smile. Spends many nights watching Law and Order in her room. Knows just about every episiode by heart. Got so bored with L&O that Bee got her hooked on CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. Now stays holed up in room, just an hour earlier.

Ooo, Wee!

I just got back from the beach with Aye and Bee. I frolicked in the sand, nose dived into the ocean (which was quite rocky this afternoon, had a big storm coming in from the west) and because I can't go anywhere without acting like an ass, I shat on someone's bed.

Bee was not happy. Was ready to sell me upon seeing what a mess I made.

Alas, Aye hooked up with her boyfriend while Bee came home alone both nights, only to snuggle with me. I think Bee needs a good swift fling with a hot New York bartender with a firm ass to get her over this hump. It's just cruel and unusual that the girl hasn't had play since 2004. Yeah, she works hard, but DAMN! Even Jesus got him some while creating Earth.

Contradiction of the weekend: Wearing Bain de Soleil SPF 4. Four!! What the eff is the point! Just put some Crisco on your ass and call yourself cooked!

Hot as hell

I don't think hell ever reached the temperatures that boil patrons waiting for subway trains during hot New York summer days. Bee's Columbia MBA friend had a great idea to put air-conditioned booths in the subways where people could pop in a quarter and get two minutes of clean, cool air while waiting for the train. Of course, you'd have to put in, like, a hundred booths per subway platform to satisfy demand. But it was a good idea.

As a French Bulldog with a short snout and thick black hair, I drool and wheeze my way down the block. As a human, Bee sweats through about three t-shirts a day. Aye just goes to the beach, the only place in her opinion where people should really spend their lives. Cee is too European to sweat. She perspires. Dee, has to wear suits to work, but I haven't seen her wear a jacket—or a skirt that reaches to mid-thigh—since Memorial Day. I'm sure those Citigroup traders love that.

One thing that makes Bee cringe is when hot, sweaty people touch her on public transportation. Their nasty DNA rubbing up against her just dry-cleaned whites. Strangers' body fluids contacting another's clammy skin is such a New York thing, representative of how extremely close NYC living quarters are, and how rare good, spacious real estate is to come by.

Makes you want to stay in your crate until Halloween.

Gym rat

So Bee and Dee (ah, Dee! Almost forgot about her. She spends so much time in the lower quarters that I sometimes forget she lives here!) were talking about their two gyms today. Bee is a member of Equinox, Dee is at New York Sports Club.

The major difference--Equinox cateres to the earthy-crunchy, downward dog posing, white collar professionals, while NYSC is filled with meatheads. At Equinox, Bee can get through a whole workout without one heckle or stare, save for the closeted gay men who oogle at hern while she performs lower ab lifts on the hanging bar. Dee can't get on a bike, do a situp or take a swig from the water fountain without hearing, "whuzzup" from some gorilla-esque patron.

Now if Dee were into that type--and she had friends that are--the NYSC would be the perfect place to pick up a one night stand for some hot sweaty nookie. But Dee is more into the "Colorado fit" physique--mountain biking, soccer playing, lean muscle bodies. Bee can't buy a date at Equinox since everyone there is either old or gay. But she's there to work out, not meet a husband.

The two also wear different workout attire. Bee sports biking shorts and a fitted tank. She could walk in wearing a thong and no one would really notice. Dee covers up--baggie t-shirt and full pants until she gets on a machine and then takes off the shirt to reveal a fitted tank so she doesn't overhead. She then puts back on the shirt when she is cooling down on the machine. She would never show more skin than absolutely necessary at NYSC.

Snacks available at the Equinox juice bar? Organic free range chicken breast and low-carb, low-cal, no preservative muffins. NYSC offers Metrix shakes, Perfect Mass, Creatine and Myoplex. Yum.

The best diner in NYC

is defintely City Diner on 91st and Broadway. Last night, Bee went there around 4 AM after a full Saturday night of drinking, dancing and kissing random strangers (she left one on the dance floor at 17 after he asked her to scratch his balls wihle he carried two Stoli gimlets to his table). Anyway, she sits down with her friends J and T and order eggs. Behind her, three people, a girl who looked like a video vixen, a cute Latin guy and a woman she assumed was his girlfriend, sat behind Bee and her friends. Conversation ensued:

Video Vixen: Are you drunk?
Bee: No, are you drunk?
V V: No, but I think you guys are really drunk. (spits in T's hair). You're waaaay more drunk than I ammm...
B: Why?
VV: What are you guys eating? Can I have a bite?
Latin guy: (laughs) You just ordered pancakes.
V V: Oh. (looks back at Bee) Y'all want some?
B: We're alright.
V V: (blank stare). You're drunk. (slumps in chair and puts hand on pancake to prop herself up. Burps loudly.)

As if the conversation weren't enough, City Diner has huge omelets, great salads and overflowing cups of coffee. Bee recommends the chicken souvlaki and the buffalo burger. Both are solid hangover meals.

Contradiction of the day: cropped sweaters in the sumertime. Contradiction seen in Central Park on twentysomething Asian woman. Temperature today was 87 degrees. If you're chilly, get some sleeves. If you're warm, grab a tank top. But don't try to combine your intentions.

Dang

I messed in my crate. Bee is not happy, so I've been relegated to the back patio. I'm sorry.

I might as well introduce you to Cee:

Fire engine red hair, smart as a whip. Works in research at NYU. Sexy in an exotic, Brazillian way. And I don't need to say how hot she is since no one in Brazil is ugly.

Number of guys she's escorted into our apartment since my arrival: three
Number of purses: fifty
Number of trips to the gym in the last week: one
Number of times she walks me throughout the day: none
Number of drunken nights spent outside of the apartment in a year's time: none. Rarely gets wasted. But when she drinks too much, she brings the party to her room.

Cee is a perfect lady-raised by Emily Post's Rules of Etiquette. Classic New Jersey suburban family. Has obsession with cleanliness and santization. Doesn't allow me in her room.
Always has boyfriend. Means we don't get much quality time.

What the eff?

Thursday.
Number of roommates sleeping here: Four, but it could be down to two, as Bee and Cee are going out.
Number of pieces of mail in mail slot: six, one wedding invitation
Number of days Aye has been at the beach in the past two weeks: seven
Number of days Aye has worked in the past two weeks: four, not consecutively

Bee is having an exceptionally good hair day. She swears by two products: one, Lanza Hair Repair Leave In Protectant conditioner. It's in a grey tube and retails for about $11.99. Fights frizz and leaves your hair soft while defining curls. And two, KMS Curl Up control balm. Retails for $14.99. Leaves your curls shiny, Crisco shiny!

WWD reported that two sales reps from Teen Vogue just got a book deal to write a tale for lipstick lesbians. Bee is depressed. Makes her feel like at 27 she's a slacker. I told her she should have penned her ode to Rosie O'Donnell a long time ago.

But what do I know? I don't even have thumbs.

Shady

So our friendly neighbor offered to babysit me while Bee was out working. Unbelievable. After a whole year of barely acknowledging Bee's presence, all of a sudden, OUT OF NOWHERE, he wants to be chatty? He wants to watch after Bee's pride and joy while she's at work?! That can only mean two things: 1.) he broke up with his girlfriend and 2.) he wants to get into Bee's draughs. Bullshit. No way, no how.

Bee also met with a recruiter yesterday. No not for a job, for a boyfriend. He just started business school at Columbia and therefore will have tons of hot friends. She did the initial meet-and-greet to establish a trusting friendship last night. Her first invite to hang out with his MBA classmates arrive at 9:25 PM. That's a 24-hour turnaround. Genius.

i'm rave-in

Number of roommates sleeping here: two
Number of boxes of cereal on the fridge: four
Cartons of milk: two
Number of clean bowls in the cupboards: none

Met two pups today that wanted to take me home. I would have put a hurtin' on them.

So Bee saw the ex today walking near our house. I thought she might pop an artery--and I thought he might turn and walk the other way--but both were able to make cordial hellos and small talk as they crossed paths. He looked, well, the same: like an bartender/struggling actor. She looked like average Jane Creative Corporate in her Express editor jeans, ponytail and Ella Moss t-shirt.

Bee was hot yet casual, but she thought she wasn't "gamed up." I told Bee ponytails have been the next best accessory since those coveted black gauchos that she was so lucky to find yesterday. Oh, and the best accessory since, uh, me.