Countdown

It's five days unti Bee's birthday. No I haven't gone shopping yet. I haven't the slightest idea what she wants.

Oh, who am I kidding? She wants the same thing every year. She wants a MAN!!!

Fortunately, she'll have two to take her out to make her feel special. The first is her friend Andre (I'm out of letters of the alphabet and clearly I can't use Aye again. And why would I use something like Queue or Zee or something that doesn't even include a letter in his name. Fuck it.)

Andy is like Bee's brother. He is always there when Bee feels like going out, and he's even cooked for her once or twice (what a good guy!) Unfortunately, Bee only returns about a third of his request for her to go out with him (laziness, not disinterest). They have not slept together. They probably will never sleep together since they're more like brother and sister. Oh, and he slept with one of Bee's former roommates after she set them up.

But he volunteered to take my momma out to dinner at a very nice restaurant the night of her b-day. That's a gentleman for you.

After dinner, Bee's very tall, good looking friend A, the one that babysat me that Thanksgiving weekend, is throwing a party for her at his apartment. He's got a great view of the fireworks that will be popping off around 9PM, just when Andy and Bee will be finishing up dinner.

And then the night after, Bee will be wined and dined by a gentleman that has been around for the last six months but is probably not going to be around for the next six. He's a smooth investment banker type that Bee met while out partying one night around Christmas, and though he's got the big time bank account, the big time car and the big time muscles, he also has big time baggage. Which is why Bee has dialed back their relationship to platonic. Of course, this was after racuous hooking up for the past six months, the kind of sex only partaken in romance novels and R-rated HBO movies.



Despite the good times, Bee is letting him go. Looks like she is getting wiser with age.

(Oh. You may be wondering why I didn't mention this fella before. Well, he only came to the apartment three times. And each time, I was locked out of the room, so I couldn't report on what was going on. I suspected sex, because the last time he was here he walked across the living room in a towel and showered. But I didn't want to make a big deal of it because Bee would often be so melancholy about the whole deal afterwards. But I gave you the Cliff Notes. Consider yourself caught up.)

Hot and bothered

I think Bee is getting ready for another trip. She just got an invitation from someone at work to go to Fire Island this weekend.

Problem is, she can't take me. Something about the deer and ticks and crawling all over the island. And being that I'm about three months behind on my Frontline, I should not hang out in ares with a lot of high grass and free roaming deer.

I feel like Bee and I haven't gone ANYWHERE together since Christmas. I mean, I need a break from the city, too! It's a lot of pressure living in such a fast-paced environment all of the time. The people in and out of the house all of the time, the blaring music, the concrete sidewalks.

I want peace and quiet of the country. I want to hang out with other doggies in a more low-key environment without worrying about having the right Prada collar or Juicy Couture jumpsuit.

I'm going to start browsing Expedia to see if I can plan a country getaway. Or at least demand that we go back to Brooklyn again, where the pace is slightly slower.

4th annual Summer Jump Off

Oh yes!

So sorry I don't have pictures of the melee that ensued yesterday at the Summer Jump Off. But if there was one thing to be said, it is this:

People got MESSED UP!

Don't know if was the Amsterdam imported Black Widow that was passed around midafternoon or the shady Magic Punch that London FIing concocted, but three people had to leave early because of hallucinations or other ill reactions to the liquor and pot.

One slammed her hand in the patio door. Another frantically asked several people, "Where's the snowplow? There's 8 inches of snow out here, where's the snowplow?"

I think I was drunk for part of the night. I kept thinking that my dog bones were telling me to jump over our wall and bite our new neighbors.

And if that wasn't bad enough, then there was Gi.

Gi spent most of the afternoon in her room while 30 of Bee's closet friends ate steak kabobs, sirloin burgers and other bbq delights on the patio and the mellow house music blared from the stereo speakers. That in itself was strange.

When she finally popped up, she told Bee she was shy around new people and perhaps needed a beer to warm up. Bee poured her a glass of wine, and sent her off to the patio to make new friends.

A half hour later, Bee is in the kitchen cleaning up beer bottles and plastic cups when partygoers report that "your roommate is wasted." Bee goes outside to assess, and is greeted by an 85-pound swaying Indian girl sloshing her red wine on her jeans.

"HAAAYYYY!!!! THIS IS MYY ROOOMMMAAAATTEE!! SHEEEEZZZZ THE BEST!" Gi yells. Bee is not amused.
"Dude , get a burger."
"I'm VEGETARIAN!!" Gi yells. "AND I"M WASTED!"

Swaying, yelling, laughing continues for an hour. Then she turns into whiny drunk, wailing on about her missing cell phone that unbeknownst to her is in her pants pocket. "I'M MEETING FRIENDS TO GO OUT AND GET WASTED AT A BARRRR!!!"
This is why the roommates were hesitant about living with a 23 year old girl who is just getting acclimated to the city.

As people started to leave, Gi passed out on a lawn chair outside until she realized someone had blown out the tiki torches and left her in the dark. Then she stumbled back to her bedroom, where in hindsight, she probably should have stayed in the first place.

Such craziness. Such confusion. Which all begged the question: "What the hell was in that punch?"

Why we love Clinton Hill

Ah, we've got to go to Brooklyn more often.

I feel like the grass is slightly fresher, the people are a bit more friendly, and the outdoor restaurants are way more lenient in letting me eat the scraps off of the ground within the metal barricade that protects diners from out of control cars that jump the sidewalk. Or not.

Ya know what else is great about Brooklyn? Bee's friend, J.

J fed me, held me, walked me and cuddled me to sleep on his brand new leather couch in his brand new living room in his brand new one bedroom.

And if you think it doesn't get any better, here's one more reason we love J. He sat through two hours of the most female-centric programming ever on television---WE network's pet lover series, America's Cutest Puppies.

We stumbled upon the show since there was not much else on television on a Saturday night. The program is a contest to find the most adorable puppy between 4 and 8 months old in 10 cities, and the winnersin the ten cities goes on to compete for the grand title of America's Cutest Puppy. Just like on any televised pageant, there was an overcaffenated host/comedian, celebrity judges, and swimsuit rounds. Okay, more like fashion shows.

As we watched Midwestern mothers dance and sing and coo to their dogs, Bee says, "Who the hell would WATCH this, much less pay for ADVERTISING on this show?"

"I have no idea," J said, then cracked open a bottle of wine. I took a sip or two from Bee's glass when she wasn't looking.

Then they continued to watch two hours worth of the horrible doggie pageant, and made a pact never to tell anyone that this is how they spent their Saturday night.

Leave it to me to spill the beans.

P.S. --I thought the show was crap. There were no French Bulldogs picked in the final round!

Field trip

We're going to Brooklyn!
Yes, it's only a half hour away.
No, you don't need a car to get there.
No, there is no beach.

But there's a guy there that wants to buy my mommy diamonds, a car and a brand new apartment. So we're packing out bags and heading out.

I'm all for a Sugar Daddy. Maybe this guy can buy me an actual doggie bed so I don't have to sleep on the floor anymore.

If I were a business owner

I would definitely run a cupcake store. I'd get to eat sweets everyday. Patrons of my store would always be happy, or they'd at least leave happy because cupcakes cheer people up. You ever see a grumpy woman leave a cupcake store?

I'd need relatively small real estate to open the store. And much less equipment than a full fledged restaurant.

I'd have doggie friendly flavors only--peanut butter, carrot, banana, fig, apple, pumpkin, honey. Nothing like the annoying fruits with pits, like grapes or cherries. Who likes cherries anyway?

The only problem that I'd have with the store is that I would likely sample a lot of the product. I'm a sucker for frosting; I imagine my staff would always catch my paw in the batter.

And even after the cupcakes were cooked, I'd sample one from each batch to make sure they were up to snuff.

I would literally eat into my own margins.

Perhaps this is why dogs do not own bakeries.