The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Well not really. I much prefer the white shoes season, ya know, Memorial Day through Labor Day. It’s the time of year when there are BBQs galore at everyone's house. I love freshly grilled beef. But in lieu of skeezers at DTrain's Bar & Hoochie House, I like this time of year. Its cool out, the air is clear and brisk; for once I am glad to be wearing a fur coat, even if it isn't as nice as dad’s new coat. There is nothing like a cool day, lying in front of the window on my side sipping some Olde Biscuit 800.

I like to get up around noon or so and go across the street for a little manage a trois with the Yorkie Sisters, because that’s how I roll, and if I happen to have a little too much Olde Biscuit 800 and I am feeling ballsey, I will stop at Shi-wa's on the way home. No more booty calls for that bitch Jada though, I quit her and that’s that. There are lots more bitches in the hood, who aren't cougars.

So I have been thinking for the last week or so about what my next dot puppy dog could be and I have been thinking that this is a pretty good idea. I have been thinking about rounding up some of my best friends and starting a wing doggy service. Everyone knows that bitches love a good lookin doggy like me, so I figure that if I were to pimp myself and my friends out at say $75 hour I can do pretty well, especially if I take a cut of their earnings. Just think how many guys need just a tiny bit of help meeting hot bitchs out on the street. I have to figure a wing doggy could up a guy's closing rate to well over 75%. The chickies of DC would never see it coming. Dudes could pass themselves off as all caring, nice and sensitive. Even cat people would be able to get over. I like this idea. I am not sure when, but keep an eye out for my next venture, WingPuppy.com.

Its that time of year.

The holiday season always kicks off with the owners birthday. Knowing that I was on the hook for a gift, I whipped out my Metro card, not that it ever gets swiped. For some reason, Metro doesn't make any allowances for someone who is zero foot nine to swipe a Metro card, so I still have my starting $20 on the card. Anyway I decided to head over to the Barnes & Noble in Clarendon. Its right next to the Williams Sonoma with the good samples, so I stopped in, sampled some sweet and sour grilled beef. The guy there was trying to sell me some sort of indoor grill. I wasn't really interested. A lot of people might be, because they live in apartments, but we have a house and have a grill outside, and the owner isn't shy about firing it up in any weather conditions, to cook some steak, so I told the guy that I would pass, but I did pick up some of that beef marinate and I had a some of that peppermint bark that they sell at this time of year. Then I headed over to the Barnes & Noble to get dad Michael Jackson's Complete Guide to Single Malt Scotch. I figure he will like this book. The man can drink scotch like I crunch Cinnabones.

After picking up the book, I headed back to the Metro. Of course I stopped in at Williams Sonoma for some more of that grilled beef, but the bitchy queen of a dude was running the grill and I only got one piece from him, even though I was already carrying a Williams Sonoma bag. You would think you get some courtesy from these people when you spend money in their store, but this guy just doesn't like me. He must not like straight dogs. Anyway I caught the metro home, I really need to get a car and drivers license. I gave the outside perimeter a once over and headed inside to wrap dads gift, which is no small task when you don't have opposable thumbs. You have to be vigilent, when there is a bitch like Jada living right next door. That crazy bitch is always up something. She's always running some kind of caper, there are always people coming and going. Its that kind of traffic that makes it really hard on a watch dog like me.

Dad did pretty well for his birthday, he got some cigar stuff that he was raving about loving as well as some smokes that he seemed to like. Cigars aren't my thing, but the old man loves cigars and scotch like I like filet squares and cheese burgers. The thing that I liked was his new velvet sports coat from Ralph Lauren. Its a nice coat, a really nice coat, it might even be nicer than my coat. Anyway, he will look good when he takes me out in Georgetown to meet snooty bitches. We'll have to get him out and about to show the thing off. Perhaps I should asked for a new coat. A velvet dog coat or perhaps a velvet smoking jacket. I wanna look like Hugh Hefner, since I already have more hotter bitches than he does. Gotta love what Viagra does for the guy!

I love the holidays, the Yorkie Sisters are always in good spirits, although they were away this weekend, so I hung with my crew and of course the family. After a 4 day weekend, I am pretty tired, but I did want to write a little and remind everyone what I might like for Hanukkah. This year I took a new approach, I posted my list on MyGiftList.com. I am looking for the usual stuff, a bitches love me shirt, some treats and a phat new pad. Actually, I have a pretty nice pad, but I was amazed at what people will spend money on. PT Barnum was right. Now I just need to find an angle and start up a dot puppy dog and see if I can make a few million bucks.

So anyway, that’s it, that’s what going on. If your looking for me, I turned the ringer on my phone off and will be spending the day in bed catching up, because I only got about 12 hours of sleep a day this weekend, its far less than usual.

Peanut Out.

Christ, I can't believe I said that. Ryan Seapest is such a tool bag.

Miscellaneous Musings

In so far as there hasn’t been much going on, I have been uber busy lately. Some how it doesn’t matter whether its one big task like security training and upgrades or small tasks like making sure K & T’s contractors stay on their side of the walk way the days get over filled on a regular basis. So rather than write about major events, here’s a recap of what I have been up to for the last week or so.

1 Star
Last weekend I had to stay in some one star accommodations. ONE FUCKING STAR. I have never seen anything like this. It all started with someone at Union Station accusing me of being a dog. All because I don’t have opposable thumbs. Plenty of people lack opposable thumbs, but for some reason this slack jawed yokel from PG County insisted that I couldn’t go on the train. I was going to my cousin’s wedding in Connecticut. Anyway, mom and dad found some accommodations though my doctor. While the food was my usual, the portion control was beyond absurd. I’m in good shape; I can run down a squirrel any day of the week. They didn’t give me any treats and the room was small and smelly. After a couple of days of being bitter, I have blocked out the experience. We’re not going to talk about it again. I am sure my therapist will bring it up, but I might have to have the guy clipped. Anyway, I looked up J & R's registry and sent them the nut cups they registered for. I thought it was a kind of ironic gift if you know what I am talking about.

The Contractor
Well, K & T finally took my advice and got a contractor to take care of their squirrel problem. I warned them that those little critters wouldn’t go away, but they didn’t listen. And just like I said, they came back. Finally, T agreed with my assessment of the situation and called Ghostbusters a contractor. Anyway, this guy shows up last week around 11am one day and immediately sets up shop right in front of our house. I was barking up a storm. I was trying to tell this hick from bumblefuck that was on our property and across the line of what I thought was acceptable. He didn’t listen and I got tired of barking, so I told him that he better clean his shit up and that he better stay away from that bitch next door, because if I catch him helping her out, I was gonna call the fuzz on all of them. Just to play it safe, I went upstairs to my security kit, and got my intruder detection laser sensors, which I keep right next to my finger printing kit. No way am I gonna let that opportunistic bitch, Jada, get over on me again.

Visitors
No, not that horrible 1980s mini-series, but real live houseguests. J & S came for a visit, they come a couple of times a year. J is a real smart ass, but since he usually scratches me, I let him slide on some of his antics. However, on Friday, he was particularly annoying. He called several times and I didn’t feel like answering the phone, they guy can talk forever, and the last thing I want is someone calling when I have the Yorkie Sisters over. Anyway, he keeps leaving messages on the answering machine, talking to me, saying the magic words like treat or greenie. Mean while I am sitting there thinking … dumbass, I can go downstairs and crack open a can of Olde Biscuit 800 when ever I want, I don’t need some wise guy from NYC to mess with my head.

The Bag
Mom, Dad, J & S came home on Saturday night with a big bag from The Palm. I was slightly disappointed since usually my parents getting dressed up on a Saturday night and coming home with a bag means the Capitol Grille. Alas, The Palm would do. Dad left me a healthy bit of meat on the bone from his porterhouse. I was grateful and I enjoyed it, and I will enjoy the leftovers tonight. Once again, J tried to be a smartass and pull one over on me, but I know better. He said he had a bone in ribeye and that it wasn’t very good. First off, I have never heard of a bone in ribeye. Second, The Palm doesn’t serve shit. Third and lastly, I know the guy is an epic eater, he has more stomachs than cow and he probably just didn’t save me any. Heck, he probably had chicken or something else lame like that. Don’t worry J, I understand and I will remember this the next time you wanna share a greenie with me. I got your number buddy and I am coming for ya! Just wait till I get your kid finger paints or a drum set. A Yorkie Poo never forgets.

So that it, thats whats been keeping me busy.

Cougars : Not Just Cats & Old Broads

So last night after the owner got home, we went for a walk, and I guess he wasn't satisfied with my progress. What can I say, when you gotta go, you gotta go. And when you don't you don't. So in an effort to help nature along, he decides to take me for a long walk, several streets over from my 'hood. I am a little unsure of where things are going, its an older area and I was a tad bit uncomfortable, especially since the wind was howling. You try and take care of biddness when there is a 30 MPH cross wind blowing across your junk. Anyway, no sooner than I start getting the urge to mark some territory, out comes this old broad with her old German Shepard. Of course, the owner stops so that we can get acquainted. Because he thinks that I like all bitches. This bitch was like twice my height and had to have 40 lbs on me. Not to mention being twice my age. I don't dig old broads, all they want is some young stud, and that’s definitely me, STUD! So while the owner makes idle chit chat, while he waits for me to knock one off, I am running for my life. This old bitch keeps presenting me for. Of course I am flattered, but the last thing I need is a ride that has to lower itself like a bus picking up an old lady on the corner. She kept trying to back up under me, that’s some sight, lemme tell you. I felt like I was starring in Master P and the Cougar of Doom with Harrison Ford. Eventually, the owner decided that I must have been done by now and we went on our way. Thank god. Shortly there after, when I couldn't hold it anymore, I did my biddness and we headed home. Of course we ran into someone else walking a dog. This guy had a 10-year-old sheltie. And once again, she was digging me, I tried to pull on the leash to get my owner to skip this encounter, but he wasn't having it. He gets all proud when I do my big, tough dog, stud routine so we had to stop and talk. Mabel the sheltie actually tried to give me hummer right there in the middle of the street. I eventually growled at her and the owner took that as a hint that I was getting pissed off and wanted to go home. This other neighborhood is defiantly not for me. It was like the Running of the Cougars, and I was obviously the guest of honor. I need to chat with the owner and let him know I was not digging the walk we took last night.

I think I will perhaps go pay the Yorkie sisters a visit this afternoon and then lie on my side watching Hogan's Heroes reruns while dreaming of a world filled with Filet Squares.

Meet My Crew

G-Money, Chubby and Ducky in the VIP room at Pure in Las Vegas.

G-Money is the quiet one, but you always gotta watch out for the quiet ones. G-Money got kicked out of school for boozing naked with the dean's daughter and her roomate. What can you say? My man has game, but no common sense. Getting your nude on in the football stadium is neither smart nor original. The cops patrol every hour and it’s hard to miss a naked giraffe and 2 coeds passed out on the 50 yard line. That was pretty much a game over situation for G-Money. After school G-Money hung out in the old neighborhood, mostly doing odd jobs and tax preparation in the spring while avoiding getting into trouble. What do expect for a guy who was 15 credits short of an Accounting degree from Yale. Not what you would expect from the Grand Puba of Skull & Bones. Fortunately, I got home from AC Milan in the nick of time to take care of him. Now he drives the car and mostly keeps his mouth shut. Or perhaps he's just quiet, most accounting majors were.

Chubby is the trouble maker of the bunch. Chubby played offensive line at Rutgers where he had a scholarship and studied chemistry. All he ever did was blow the roof of the chem lab his sophomore year. Fortunately, the dean's board of review found that it was just an accident and more likely a result of poor supervision on the part of the TA. The TA got axed and Chubby kept his mouth shut. I know better, dude was always reading ahead and what not. So I am sure he was more culpable than he let on, but anything is better than getting spanked with a $94,000 damage tab. How the hell do you explain that to mom and dad? No way, get your ass to McDonalds and start flipping burgers with Parent of the Year nominee, Kevin Federline. Now Chubby sticks to mixing drinks and occasionally throwing M-80s at the neighborhood squirrels. Occasionally the guy does get out of hand and I just have to chew on his head and toss him around the living room, especially when I can't find my IQube & squeaky balls.

Ducky is a strange dude. He turned down swimming scholarships to every major college program. He probably could have gone to the Olympics had it not been for an unfortunate incident involving one of Chubby's concoctions and some banned stimulants. He choose to go to perennial top 10 party school Slippery Rock. He ended up with a degree in Animal Husbandry. Like that was much of a challenge for him. Rumor has it that he is running the best genetics lab on the east coast, but he never seems to answer the question when I put it to him. I am going to see if I can catch him testifying as an expert witness at OJ's next trial. Anyway, when he is around, he's a yes man. I can always count on him wanting to do what ever I want to do, whenever I wanna do it. He's usually egging me on to take him over to the Yorkie sister's house, since they have nice new plush platypus squeaky toy that he wants to get funky with.

So there it is, this is my posse. These are the squeaky toys that I grew up with and spend most of my time with.