It's All Right

It's Okay... Stare

My Sammy!

the first time mp wore her jersey to a game, sammy pahlsson scored the game winner in o.t.

why? 'cause he's freaking awesome!



this from the boc blog says it all.

Happy Birfday to ME!

i'm six! im six!



mp says that i can date in 10 more years...



i guess i won't tell her about scrappy from down the street. seriously; that's homedoggie's name.



mp bought me a ps3 and the chickapea gave me treats! this pup's life is sweet.

Election 08

in the 80's, it was "fritz-n-tits."
in the 90's, "the only bush i trust is my own."
welcome to the 21st century, where it's "bros before hos."

Why the Pea Rocks #2

because even though mp has been laid out with mono, the pea still sends her dirty little love notes every day--
and never mentions the fact that mp probably picked up cooties playing santa last year.
ho ho ho.
instead, she offers to play pirate and wench as soon as mp feels better.
that's our kind of girl.

That's My Girl

trampy mctramperson, in her quest to hook-up with every girl rated 6 or higher, has mono! that should give her co-workers months of material. my favorite moment was when the doctor told her that her spleen was enlarged, so she has to "avoid all contact sports for at least an additional month-- that includes 'boom-boom.'"

It's Not Just MP

as it turns out, i'm smarter that most people.
for example, i didn't vote for bush-- not even the first time. (see how mp met the chickapea.)
i lick my ass every chance i get, because the real golden rule is "do unto yourself as you would have others do unto you."
i have never ridden in, let alone purchased, a kia.
i know that rubin "hurricane" carter is a monster, not a hero.
i understand that if you don't vote, you can't bitch.
and i don't stand at the edge of a fucking tiger enclosure and taunt the animals.

Why the Pea Rocks

#314: because she went online and found exactly duplicates of the snoopy and woodstock christmas ornaments that mp left behind at ike turner's. those stupid ceramic pieces were 32 years old and in perfect condition, because, to mp, they were christmas.

sitting on the floor, in front of the pea's christmas tree, mp got back something she didn't know she was missing. the chickapea also tossed in a snowball snoopy-playing-hockey ornament from those wacky 70's, the snoopy ornament from the year i was born, and a pahlsson jersey (because the words "my sammy" aren't heard enough around here).

i have to love a girl like that.

the fact that she and her best friend bought me a sack-load of gourmet cookie and an anaheim ducks water dish are just a bonus. the peruvian tamales and christmas dinner, followed by all three of us watching ratatouille, tangled up on the couch were also endearing... well, until i lit the room with puppy cheer; but, seriously, feed a dog green vegetables, and you get what you deserve.

really, it's knowing that she thinks about us and actually cares about me and mp-- even when it isn't directly affecting her. of course, if you ask mp why the chickapea rocks, that romantic will say, "it's the boobs."

Lights Out on Another Year

this time last year, mp and i went around and looked at the lights along the canals, wondering what the future would be like.

this year, we took the pea with us and couldn't even begin to wrap our heads around how amazing our life is.





even better, i put on my new winter collar today.





it's okay to stare-- i'm good lookin'.

The New Yule Log

who says that the ralph's bakery has no sense of humor?

Amy the Amaryllis

our gift from Lily 2 is growing into such a fine young lady.

Remembering Holiday Miracles, #1

November 26, 2005

Meet Splenda

she's not the real thing, but she's still pretty sweet.

Who Says I Gots No Skillz?

my nana left my doggy rag-bone down, and now i can poop macrame.

i rule!

The Look

the chickapea starts sending mp dirty little thoughts as soon as she exits her pod (interpret that as you will) each morning. today, she sent us this:

chikapea: this is the exactly look that you give me during monkey exploring time, 'cause you're cute like that.

mp: uh, yeah... It's because those are big melons.

Bananame

mp has this strange love of all things banana flavored.

yeah, i know, i know. i need some guy to stand here, midget swinging from his christmas balls, singing "i-rony." tragically, sam's club was out of stock on those.

anyway, she found this amazing sugar free banana flavor, and now has the most tasty banana mochas going on. thank god. maybe this will stop her from eating my belly. seriously-- it's been touch and go lately. she's been trying to convince me that i'm a little gamey so she can rub me down with banana-scented bath wipe.

then she nuzzles my belly, saying, "oh, puppy, you're so delicious." i've had nightmares about waking up with only one ear, a missing paw.... it's traumatic. never, ever go to bed with a chubby girl if you smell like her favourite food.



between us, i really smell like banana flavored corn chips after the wipes. oh, well. whatever makes my person happy.

You Gotta... I, uh... See This...

oh, hell. just watch it.

Getting What We Nieds

Smog Rocks

well, okay, not so much-- but i'd rather be here

























than in new jersey with the pea.

The Secret is Out

oh, mp needs this on a t-shirt. of course, she'd wear it to work, and that would be all kinds of interesting.
today, my person had to ask her babies to stop trying to pimp her out. it's kind of sweet, kind of funny, and all kinds of awkward when some poor girl gets dragged over and introduced because "'x' s a great 'y,' and you're both, you know, gay!" they really are wonderful. and emarrassing. kind of like my person... who is trying to come up with socially aceptable ways to get her latest evaluation onto christmas cards.

I Love Shiny Things

my person took her chickapea to see the lights at griffith park during one of their walk-only nights. it was awesome... or so i hear. damn women left me at home. that's okay. they promised to take me to naples and walk me along the canals next weekend. i have to go buy new silverware for the occasion, because when i aked mp why i got left at home, she said spooning leads to forking.

Dear Starbucks

My person relies on you for support, comfort, and ridiculous amounts of caffeine everyday. Baristas in 3 cities (and 5 locations) call her by name, know her order, and show her the love. Starbucks, if you were a girl, she'd marry you. Because she is so attached to you, she won't say anything about the terrible incident that took place on Sunday night.... but, I'm a loyal puppy, and I must speak!

Starbucks, you done my person wrong.

After watching the Anaheim Ducks play an awesome game (ending with the killing of a 6-on-3 penalty) and demolish the Kings, the Chickapea and my person went for a latte and some conversation. It was foreplay, Starbucks. It was the end of a date in which my person had had the magical words, "I'm wearing something special for you under these clothes..." whispered in her ear. Everything was perfect, and they brought you into their date-- like they were inviting you to a threesome of love and goodness.

Now, my person doesn't do well, with milk, but she can handle non-fat in reasonable amounts. There's nothing better than a triple venti, non-fat, extra-hot, sugar-free gingerbread latte. When she orders, she always makes sure the words "non-fat" are spoken clearly and makes sure the "NF" and the "SF" go on the cup. This time, the "NF" went on the cup-- but 2% went in. We know it was 2%, because whole milk would have been obvious.... how do i know it wasn't non-fat you ask?

Good question, Starbucks.

Because, when someone who doesn't handle milk gets a stronger percentage of lactose than they can handle, things get... interesting. The sure thing? Yeah. So over. My person was very upfront with her Chickapea about what had happened, but there was an immediate "no sex for you!" Do you know why it's called 2% milk, Starbucks? Because that's about how much of the air under the covers is oxygen after my person drinks it. Were you trying to kill me? Was it a plot to eliminate a small doggy with a big voice? You failed! I'm alive, though mildly brain damaged after last night.

Please, Starbucks, don't do us like that.

When someone writes letters on the cup, assume that they are not just preferences, but necessary for reasons like allergies, dietary restrictions, and the desire to get laid. Please, Starbucks, I beg you! The Chickapea went out of town for business today, and after last night, my person's going to be a real bitch. I'm sorry to go around my person to address this catastrophe with you; after all, she still loves you like a girl who's never been hurt. Show us the love. Don't do us wrong again.

Sincerely,

mizz lilly

I Love the Chickapea

* she always spoils me and buys me puppy smores from whiskers.
* she can cook (not like mp's magic-phone-cooking), and she lets me eat with them.
* she lets me "get all european" on her for as long as i want.
* she lets me sleep in her bed and (usually) won't let mp kick me out of the middle.
* she knows that rubbing my belly is a valid career choice.
* peruvian chicks are hot.

mp is certainly fond of her pea, but i love her!
if they stop dating, i fully intend to make my move....
"you, uh, lik-a romantica?"

Off the Razr's Edge

mp finally picked up the razr 2 (until the iphone comes out with a 3g version). it's beautiful. it's compact.

it's fast. the razr2 makes great use of the 3g network, and mp and i are now free from the bleeding edge.





it also takes surprisingly good pics for a flash-free camera phone.


okay, okay... i'm a vain puppy and i'll say anything to get another picture out there.


ignore all the background stuff (mp went a-shoppin') and focus on what's really important: i'm good lookin'.

Thank You, Bryz

ilya bryzgalov was claimed off waivers today, then made his first start for the phoenix coyotes fours hours later. he shut out the kings, and we couldn't be happier for him. well, we'd be a little happier if he'd been traded to an eastern conference team....



it was always so good to know you were between the pipes. you deserve to be number one somewhere.



you had us at scrooge mcduck....
you had us at scrooge mcduck.

Things We're Grateful For - #6

the last 13 months have brought nothing but absolutely amazing things for us.

mp is a completely different person, inside and out, and we have a new life that we could not be more proud of. we are settled, happy, and successful. for that, we are eternally grateful. it's not every family that gets a second chance. we got a second life. every day we wake up, and we are excited to be going. well, mp is excited to be going; i'm excited to get the blankets to myself. (note to other puppies: feathers are good for napping, bad for eating.... I'm just sayin'.) we make a difference now, and we're getting better at it every day. for that, we are truly grateful.

Things We're Grateful For - #5

shirts like this:

Things We're Grateful For - #3

the pea loves victoria's secret's brazilian cut lace panties.

seriously, mp's not that good looking... this should count for #3 and #4

Things We're Grateful For - #2

boobs.



no wait... the possibility of world peace.

okay, okay....

boobs.

Things We're Grateful For - #1

george parros took some time over the summer and learned how to skate.



of course, he has other benefits that we didn't initially see behind his pornstache.

Comfort TV #1

mp and i both have favorite shows and movies that always make us feel good. this is one of my favorites. mp used to love it, too... until the phyllis diller episode reared it's hydra head once too often.

Because She's Classy

after mp had an especially long (and creepy) day, the chickapea came to fetch her for a night of "not much." this usually means coffee and making out, but tonight mp showed just how classy she can be by taking her date to the 24 hour walmart for a little basketball. oh, yes, she did. the guys working stock kept score as mp, the pea, and random little boys that were wandering around in their spiderman pj's shot hoops in the portable court.

who says mp isn't original?

tomorrow, they are going to check out the new sephora, and the pea says she'll model anything mp picks out at v.s. bitch hasn't stopped smiling since that text came in an hour ago....

Happy Halloween

for the record, the pea has a little red riding hood costume, and she's not afraid to use it.

that must explain all of mp's huffing and puffing.

yeah.

that's exactly what i tell myself to get through the night.

Poetry We Love

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
--T.S Eliot

S'io credessi che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tomasse al mundo,

questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.

Ma per cio che giammai di questo fondo

non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,

senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

--[Epigraph]

LET us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherised upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question...

Oh, do not ask, ' What is it? '

Let us go and make our visit.



In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.



The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.



And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.



In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.



And indeed there will be time

To wonder, ' Do I care? ' and, ' Do I dare? '

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--

(They will say: ' How his hair is growing
thin! ')

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--

(They will say: ' But how his arms and legs are thin! ')

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.



For I have known them all already, known them all--

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?



And I have known the eyes already, known them all--

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

And how should I presume?



And I have known the arms already, known them all--

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

And should I then presume?

And how should I begin?



* * * * *



Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...



I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.



* * * * *



And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep...tired...or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.



And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: ' I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you
all'--

If one, settling a pillow by her head,

Should say: ' That is not what I meant at all.

That is not it at all. '



And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along

the floor---

And this, and so much more?--

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen;

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say,

' That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant at all. '



* * * * *



No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--

Almost, at times, the Fool.



I grow old...I grow old...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.



Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.



I do not think that they will sing to me.



I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.



We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Keep it Simple...

CHP: Whatcha doing?

MP: Sleeping.

CHP: No you're not! Your eyes are open. And you're talking.

MP: Can't get anything by you.

CHP: So whatcha doing?

MP: Waiting to see the clock change numbers.

CHP: Oh, my god. You've been waiting for that? Why? You never know how long that will take.

she carries a gun, people.

mp insists that the girl was just really tired, but...

wow.

Puppy Love

The 1st Layer

mp is all kinds of excited about taking the pea to their first hockey game of the year tomorrow. apparently the pea is excited, too, because after mp told her to dress in layers, she sent this:



"does this count as a layer?"

Evolution

Hef It Out

mp was poking around some old clothes and found a robe that was bought about 3 years ago but was never worn. damn thing still had the tags on it. unfortunately, it was a size s/m. unless s/m means the robe liked to be smacked around a little and have the belt knotted extra tight, mp knew it would never fit. i, being a wise puppy, suggested she see if it was at least close....

it fits! in fact, if it was any bigger, there wouldn't be anywhere to put the extra wrap. of course, mp is now wearing the robe around the house, wondering where all the servants and her smoking jacket went. clearly the butler stole it; butlers are known for that kind of thing. that's right, she got all hugh hefner on me.

except the robe is yellow, and she looks like big bird.

Oh, Sammy

we need you!

Dave, Ziggy, and John

mp's birfday hollywood bowl bash was awesome.
dmb played a great set and celebrated the end of the tour by having john mayer and ziggy marley come out to play. a side note: mp wants to take back anything negative she has ever said about mayer; the guy can rock a guitar like a comet.

A Dream So Real
Two Step
#27
Crush
#34 (really!)
The Idea Of You
Don't Drink the Water
Corn Bread
You Might Die Trying
Eh Hee
Lie In Our Graves
Shotgun
#41 (w/ john mayer)
Warehouse
Exodus (w/ ziggy and stephen marley)
Stay
Encore:
American Baby Intro >
Grey Street

there's a few things missing from the set list, like a really mellow versin of "everyday" that segued into something else, but it's not on the band site, and mp was too lit to be able to place it in context. the set for the night before was spectacular-- and we have a little dmb-envy-- but there's something special about catching the last night of a summer tour.

the pea was relaxed and happy, and didn't mind: taking the bowl shuttle so that the sangria could be free flowing (though, god knows, not free), mp's dancing (which apparently isn't that bad), sneaking into the lower seats, making new friends on the shuttle home, making new friends in the stands, or making out when mp decided that the intro to "american baby" was "obtaining the highest levels of awesomeness and beauty" (see the sangria reference above).

and she gave mp the bestest birfday gifts ever.

What Does $1.67 Buy?

mp has learned that $1.67 can buy happiness.
well, it buys 14 donut holes at winchell's...
which, at 4pm, can induce a sense of attentiveness in seven 10 year old boys...
which makes them more likely to stay on task...
which allows mp to get through her session quickly.
which earns the boys 2 donut holes each...
which signals the end of the session...
which means mp gets to go home...
which leaves the parents with the resulting sugar rush.

$1.67 can, indeed, buy true happiness.