Sunday, October 31, 2004

Happy Halloween from King Pipp (the Napoleon of the dog park)

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Hefty Rottweiler ISO petite Great Dane (prefers Harlequin)

I just found out about this completely hillarious/crazy dating site. We are truly in a era. I know quite a few people here in Philly who have tried these; people who have no problem getting dates otherwise. They are attractive, smart, funny, engaging people. It's just too difficult to meet someone you have an actual connection with - most of the time, we're drawn because of physical attraction first. Then, after the "Hi, my name is.." conversation - wait - I'll re-enact it here:

"Hi, my name is (fill in the blank). Can I buy you a drink?"
(Choose A or B here)
A) "No thank you, you somewhat resemble a sea monkey and I'm over with dating creatures with tiny penises"
B) "Thanks, that would be great. I'm (fill in your name here)"
If you chose A, please do not proceed. Your adventure is over. If you chose B, please continue.
"I noticed you from across the bar, you're very pretty."
(Blush) "Thanks... (awkward silence) So, what do you do?"
"I'm a doctor/carpenter/exotic dancer. What do you do?"
"I'm hairdresser/lab technician/rocket scientist. Do you live around here?"
(Choose A or B here)
A) "No, I'm from Jersey."
B) "Yes, actually, I live around the block. I moved from New York to help my parents with their soup kitchen for starving poets."
If you chose A, conversation ends. If you chose B, conversation continues, but will end a few days later when you realize he uses the word, "yous," as in, "Hey, yous over there, come help me with this minestrone."

So, anyhow, after this conversation inevitably takes place, maybe you'll go out with someone a few times before realizing you have nothing in common. That seems to be the draw of internet dating - you weed out all of the definitely not's - for instance, if you're a die-hard fan of a good T-bone, you're not going to respond to a post labeled, "Loving Vegetarian." It makes it easy to pre-judge, however. I may think I hate men with facial hair and a penchant for country music, but often, we can overlook the things we think we hate in the light of a personality that's just right otherwise.
That brings me to the dating site I just read about: Before you go and click on it, just read this real quick: It's a DATING site for PEOPLE and their PETS. Meaning, you can look for a date for yourself, and a date for your pet at the same time. (But: how do the rules of decorum apply to pets on their first date? What about crotch-sniffing/licking? Does that have to wait until the third date?) My dog is looking for another male dog, preferably not castrated, at least 100 lbs, and of distinct breed origin. Just kidding: check this out:
Well im sure you can tell that Mia is by far the cutest dogon earth from the pics and although I cant really vouch forfor the cuteness level of dogs from other planets Id say itssafe bet she would rank in the top ten in the universe. Dontthink she is just a pretty face
People, have we totally forgotten how to punctuate? or does having cute pets make us utterly and totally stupid? It's a question to be answered at another time, by someone other than myself, who totally thinks her dog is among the top three cutest in the universe (no period)

Tiny Dancer

Saturday, October 23, 2004

I swear, I'm not as short as I look here. Isn't he adorable?

Hi Dave! This post is about you!

My freshman year of college, I lived with four other girls next door to a room with five boys. I dated a few people that year, the first being someone I met at my first bar the first night of school. He was a Baltimore native, not a stranger to the area or the inside of a pot-smoke filled closet. We dated for around 2 months, most of which I spent in a stupor; whether it be love (or the idea of it) or OTHER. When he broke my heart, telling me, quite matter-of-factly, "It's just not working anymore," I moped and made new friends who would be willing to get stoned before Spanish class.
Living next door to me the whole time was Dave, a tall guy with glasses who I really didn't connect with until the end of freshman year. He was smart and funny and very goofy, in an undercover-cool way. We watched movies and talked about our favorite book, The Little Prince. We walked through campus late at night and sat in the middle of the Astro-turf lacrosse field, looking up at the stars. We ran through the sprinklers and soaked our clothes. It was the perfect beginning to a romance, save its timing - smack in the middle of finals. I muddled through them and did fairly well for only having 2 or 3 hours of sleep at night, being up chatting with Dave. I think it was the day before I went back home for the summer when he finally kissed me. I mean, finally - this boy moved with the speed of a special-olympic hurdler. Then, sort of, we were Together. He visited me in Connecticut over the summer; we spent a day in New York, he snuggled my dog, and my family loved him - especially after he left and sent a basket of English muffins and jam as a thank-you. I think we made it a few weeks when we got back to school - during which time I was wickedly depressed, and I think Dave really didn't understand my misery. Hell, I didn't even understand it. The break-up was unbelieveably amicable; it was: "I think, maybe, it's not working." and, "Yeah, you're probably right." And then we got ice-cream. He helped me with my math homework when I needed it (which was pretty often as I SUCK at math) and played "Chelsea Morning" on the guitar. We remained friends.
I met other boys, mostly through the bar scene. One of our favorite spots was a bar/dance club in Fell's Point, which was infamous for half-hearted ID checking, a dance floor convienient for groping, and 25 cent bottles of beer on Fridays. Next to the loud, heart-thumping club music, the next most abundant sound was the jangling of change in pockets meant for laundry. One night, while dancing to some painfully terrible music, I met what I thought was an attractive, tall, dark, nice guy, a Hopkins student. His name began with an S, or something like it, as I couldn't hear very well. Knowing someone's name isn't a prerequisite for kissing, is it? I had to wait until he called and left his name on my answering machine - it did begin with an S. Sebastien was Greek, and for a while, I was interested in his description of his hometown, and his other seemingly endless stories. We went out on a couple dates, and had plans slated for Valentine's day. The night before, he visited my apartment. My friend Heather (Hi, Heather!) had lent me her stuffed tiger to give my space that wild jungle look. Sebastien went over to the tiger, lifted its paw, and exclaimed, "GRRRR! GRRRR!" And it was then that I knew it was over. It wasn't him, really - he was pretty attractive, and obviously smart. I just knew I couldn't date anyone who was cheesy enough to make a tiger growl in a really girly voice. It was painful to hear.
I broke our plans for Valentine's day on Valentine's day. I know, I'm a shithead. And then I lent Dave my car to take out some other girl. I stayed home and read, and when Dave returned with the keys, let's just say that our attraction to each other never diminished. But we were never meant to be anything other than friends. So remained friends, and we're still friends now. Hi, Dave!

Thursday, October 21, 2004

Will work for Biscuts

Forwarded: Resume, Mr. Pipp

Pipp ____
Address: The second doghouse on the right
Phone number: It's around my neck
Objective: To obtain as many bacon treats as possible.
Education: Nine months of being yelled at for chewing and/or destroying objects included but not limited to: CD's, condoms, vintage paperbacks, my own metal rabies tag, my mom's college graduation program, a gold bracelet, the heel to a pair of black satin mules with rhinestone buckles, various paper products, cat toys, sneakers, a foam mattress pad, and rubber gloves.
Honors/Awards: Pooping out said rubber glove in its entirety. Learning how to give paw after eight months of my mom repeatedly placing my paw in her hand and saying the word, "paw," and giving me a treat. Eight months.
Language/Computer skills: Fluent in cross-species grumbles. Excel talking to other dogs, even the chihuahuas, and cats as well. Can type with one paw.
Work Experience: Sleep. Eat. Poop. Sleep. Destroy things. Poop again. Eat. Sleep. Chase the cat. Smell bad. Sleep.
Special Activities: Can catch treats in my mouth. Only when motivated. Excel at pooping a little bit in a lot of places. Can also eat cat poop directly out of the litter box.

Big Man Baby: my uncle Mark's friend Chris, photo courtesy of my uncle Mark

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

those earrings are gorgeous, but they're not mine

High School REALLY sucks, otherwise known as, I love you A WHOLE LOT JAMIE!

So, remember back to freshman year in high school, when everything was new, the halls were huge, and you made new friends? Your old friends were silver, the new ones were gold, etc... For some of us, the new friends cracked like rotten eggs and the old friends were dog shit.
My sister's friends are giving her a really tough time. Jamie's a sophomore in high school, and for reasons that pain me and please me, she reminds me a lot of myself. She gives way too much and loves and creates and you know what? Sometimes it's really frigging draining. And, being bitchy and flimsy as high school girls are, her friends are ditching her. It happened to me too. You can only give so much before people know you're an easy target.
Don't let 'em getcha. Life is WAY too short to fraternize with flimsy bitches. Because you're not one of them now, Jamie, it's going to suck and be really tough for a while. BUT - and the but is real and true - your life is going to be beautiful. It's going to be more than you ever hoped for. You just have to wait.

These are a few of my least favorite things, PART I

Today, after being utterly and totally frustrated by something I was trying to do at work, I get this message on my cell phone from my landlord: "Hi Kelly, this is ___. I'm calling to let you know that we're going to be treating the building and the one next door for roaches on Saturday morning. We can come at nine o'clock. We're doing the other apartments starting at seven, so, we can do yours as early as you'd like. Actually, the earlier the better, like seven or eight. We're fumigating, so you'll have to be out of the apartment, and the dog and cat will have to be out too. It'll take four or five hours. Also, you should put all of your food from the cabinents that's not sealed in the refrigerator. I mean, we can do it another day, but really all's is going to happen is that all of the roaches from the other apartments that have been treated are going to come into your apartment.Call me back to let me know you got this message. Thanks."
My, oh my, where shall I start?
1) This is the man, who, when I called to ask if he had any open apartments, proceeded to tell me the name, age, occupation, and furniture style of everyone currently living in his building. Before I even moved in, I knew the guys upstairs did nitrous and had naked lady pictures on their refrigerator
2) Ramble Ramble Ramble does not a coherent message make.
3) Ok, so all this aside, I have had roaches for A YEAR AND A HALF. Why has nothing been done about it until now, when we're approaching frost, and the bugs are shuddering in a corner and dying on their own?
4) Where, exactly, do you take yourself, a neurotic dog, and a surly cat at seven in the morning on a Saturday for FIVE hours? I had planned to be solidly passed out with the aid of Benadryl at that hour.
5) This adds to the ammunition I have for cutting out of my lease early: my shower flows with all of the power of a toddler's dribbling piss, my cat is constantly amused with all of the tiny pieces of grout that are dislodged from the tiled floor, the caulk on the shower tiles looks like an accident at the marshmallow factory, and I had to buy an economy-sized gel Drano bottle to unclog (poorly) the shower and sink. The cheapskate also has refused to turn the heat on, so in the morning, I would set fire to my hair to keep myself warm rather than get out of bed and shiver after my totally unsatisfying lukewarm shower - and, not to mention, the roach invasion that's colonized and destroyed a microwave, toaster oven, smoothie machine, and knife block.
I could certainly bitch more, but I'll save that for PART II.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

My Stupendously fabulous cousin Christina

This truly must be put in writing, first, because this blog business was Chris's idea in the first place, and second, because there are too many funny and sweet memories for me to hold all by myself. Christina is my mother's brother Joe's daughter. Not as difficult as it sounds. She's two years older, and therefore, when we were around 4 and 6, or 6 and 8, or whatever it may be, she had WAY cooler toys. And, thus, I thought I was smart, and offered her a million dollars for the use of one of her toys. And, little did I know then, she would continue to request her rightful sum until...well, until I offered her half of my newly imagined Chinese restaurant. We decided our new property would be called the Fah King restaurant. We only got as far as the name.
Now Christina is all grown up and fabulous and designed a really cool rubber taxi as an incentive for her company. She wears really high heels and never looks like she's going to topple over like a drunk on stilts (see: yours truly.) She's smart and funny and I really like her boyfriend, who can do a killer impression of Will Ferrell doing any impression. Oh yeah! She has a blog too!

Those are my earrings

me and my freakin' dog Pipp Posted by Hello

Leo pre-snooze Posted by Hello

And how are YOU on this bright and sunny morning?

As of this moment, my dog is eating a feather and my cat is sleeping with a dustbuster. Perhaps this will give a clue as to why I chose the title I did for my blog.
I'll start by making a tribute to Leo, whose gorgeous little face you see here. Leo was an Abyssinian mix kitten with a tiny body and a tremendous personality. I met him when he was four weeks old, visited him every day until eight weeks, when he came home with me. My pets (Cricket, a year-old male dog in a cat's body, and Pipp, a 1 1/2 year old screaming child in a dog's body) loved Leo immediately, and I was shocked at how easy the transition was. Leo slept in my bed, or in the bed with the dog, or in the dog's bed with Cricket. He was sunny and bright and anything I could have wanted in a kitten. My family loved him, and he even got the privilege of going to the hotel my mother and sister stayed in when they came to Philadelphia to visit. Leo spent the entire night tearing across the carpeted room, back and forth. As has been said to me, the most special ones go first. Leo came down with a fever, and wasn't his usual peppy self. He stopped moving around, and after two visits to the vet ER, it was determined he had FIP, a fatal virus. (For those who are interested in the science of the thing, this woman does a lot of research on the virus: ) To follow was the worst week of my life, as I watched Leo stop eating, etc. He was euthanized on October 5th, 2004. Everyone here misses him, to a fault.