Whew!

Ok, 4 post in one day.  I think that should be enough to get you through the week.  But I got one more story.  Ok, 2 more stories that I think you'll enjoy...

• So its hot as the hinges of hell in New York right now.  Has been for the last 3 weeks or so.  And humid as shit!  So I woke up on Saturday and took Duke outside in the backyard and decided that he looked hot and needed a haircut.  Now I should point out that I've given Duke a haircut a couple of times and it generally comes out looking good.  Not so this time.  I don't know if it was because I was hot (I mean I was sweating buckets out there!)  or because Duke was hot (he kept fidgeting) or because Mommy jinxed me ("Wow, it really looks like you know what your doing!"  that was about 5 minutes before I took entirely too much off of his back left leg.  Then he wouldn't give me his back right leg so that I could at least even it out!)  Needless to say, my poor Pooper looks a mess.  So bad that everytime I see him I say "Awwww, I'm sorry!"  At least he's a lot cooler now.  I, on the other hand, gave myself heat stroke out there cutting all that fucking hair off.  I was thisclose to passing the fuck out.
• After the heat stroke/bad doggy haircut debacle, I decided that I was going to take it easy on Sunday.  Go get a mani/pedi and then go pick up dinner so that Mommy wouldn't have to cook.  I was going to say Mommy or I, but who am I kidding, I'm allergic to the stove in the summer.  So I get the mani/pedi (no thank you, designs are fine for some people, but fuck no I don't want polka dots on my toes!) and then stop at the ATM and hop on the train at Kingston/Throop to go get some food.  I walk towards the back of the platform, but not too far cause I don't want the rats to get me.  I'm waiting, I'm waiting.  Everything copacetic until the train comes cause it brings a big ass rat with it!  The rat in on the platform running from the train and heading right the fuck for me!  I can admit I screamed a la Mariah, but I bet any of your asses would have done the same damned thing if you saw a NYC subway rat charging up the platform at your ass!  So I'm screaming and running away from the rat and the people waiting in the middle of the train platform and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, UNTIL they see the rat then those mutherfuckers start hitting high notes too.  So the train stops and the people getting off the train are looking at the people on the platform like we all lost our minds.  AND then, they see the rat and a couple of them seriously looked like they were contemplating hopping right the fuck back on the train.  That is until it looked like that was what the rat was going to do too...

Oh shit, I just remembered that I had a CWAAZZZY story to tell you about SuperSlag - somebody remind me...

Tagged...

Ok, so hopefully I'm fully back on my grind.  That sinus shit is a bitch!  I used to get really bad sinus infections every spring, but not so much since I had my wisdom teeth pulled.  Anyway, I'm feeling better so its time to take care of some bidness...

The first link has to be about family - Sleep Talkers - a strange family quirk

The second link has to be about friends - Slick! -my homeboy who I really need to call

The third link has to be about myself - In a Little Cabin - started about my insomnia ended up about the Levian Cult Camp I went to (re: levian - I was in the Dominican Republic with my sisty, we were on this beach and this Dominican guy comes up to us and tries to pick us up.  "Oh! You are sisters, good!  I hoped you were not levians, levians are no fun!"  at least not to beach hustlers)

The fourth link has to be about something I love - Mr. Pooper of course!

And the fifth link cried all the way wee wee home!  He's a bit of a punk ass...

(I'm copping out on the tagging thing cause you guys mostly already did this!)

Speaking of poop...

When I was a sophmore in high school, Hautechick was a freshman in college. Since she spent high school locked up at an all girls boarding school, she decided to go to college in NYC and live at home to save some dough. I wanted to kill her for that decision. The main reason was because of our bathroom situation. Three women (well I was a young woman at the time) and one freaking bathroom. Mommy and I had pretty much worked out how to not inconvenience each other when here comes Ms. Stink Booty.

Here would be my typical morning routine in high school; Wake up and wait for Mommy to finish in the bathroom, use the toilet, brush my teeth, start the shower (it was an old house, took awhile for the water to get hot), and as soon as I put both feet in the tub, there would be a knock on the door. "Troub let me in, I have to go to the bathroom!"

The first couple of times I felt sorry for her and let her in. Each and everytime, I wouldn't be able to smell anything for the next 2 hours! I have no idea what the hell she was eating in those days, but boy did my nose sure suffer. Soo, I took to not letting her in. That worked a couple of times, then she decided to get Mommy involved, "Mommy! Trouble won't let me in the bathroom and I reallllllly have to go!" Of course I had to let her in, but usually by this time I would be done with my shower (I think I got it down to about 5 minutes to soap up and rinse off) and just lotion up in my room.

It wasn't until my junior year that I decided to get revenge. I would sneak downstairs to Hautechick's room while Mommy was in the shower. Then I would either sneak into her closet and steal her clothes/shoes/sneakers/bags/etc. or if I knew she got in really late the night before I would just ask her. When she would mumble something back (I told you, I come from a a family of sleep talkers. Just the other night Mommy asked me out of nowhere, "Does it have a finished basement?" She must have been dreaming about her vacation home.) I would take that as a yes and boogie. The clothes were cool and all, but they still didn't make up for all of the singed nose hairs.

Til this day, whenever Hautechick comes over, she always wants to use my bathroom. Doesn't matter that Mommy's apartment has one and a half baths, she still wants to use mine. And if I tell her no, Mommy says, "Oh stop being mean and let your sister use your bathroom!" (I notice that Duke always vacates the premises whenever she gets to pooping)

Endnote: This is kinda gross, but the reason this post popped into my head is cause Hautechick recently told me that she tried that new pro biotic yogurt. You know the one that as Tina Fey put it, makes you poop. Wellll, she sooo did not need to try that. On top of being highly highly regular, she's also a little lactose intolerant. All I have to say is that I feel really sorry that her husband and her co-workers had to go through that genius experiment with her. To them I gift some frankincense, myrrh, and some of that air displacing stuff...

Randomly...

• Hey did you know Blogger is now available in Arabic, Hebrew and Persian?  I thought that was kinda cool...
• So sometimes I miss comments that you guys leave for me and for that I apologize, but I can't believe that I missed that whole Anal Sex conversation!  Here's Wiki's article on Anal Sex if anyone is interested...
• "A maiden before and a martyr behind"!  Not me, but that line cracked me the fuck up!  Don't know what I'm talking about? Anal sex and Norman Mailer's Harlot's Ghost
• I just read this article about the recent changes in animal behavior; stingrays attacking humans (there was another incident shortly after the one with Steve Irwin), packs of wild dogs coming into towns and attacking people, monkeys holding water deliveries hostage, and ELEPHANTS RAPING RHINOS! (type that phrase into google and you'll get over 84,000 hits)
• Speaking of animal behavior, did you know that a Florida man was shot by a puppy in 2004?!?  It was considered self defense since the man was trying to kill the puppy and his six sibs.  He couldn't find them homes and had already killed 3 of the pups.  Then there is also the case where a hunting dog shot his owner in the leg.  Apparently its not uncommon for hunters to get shot by their dogs.  I also heard there was the dog that shot his owner in the back when the owner was beating his girlfriend, but I can't find a source for that story...
• LadyShay (fresh from Gasparilla) finds the coolest food shit!  Make and publish your own cookbook

Pretty Pictures

What?!? Dude plays Elmo! and yall know how I feel about puppets
Marlon Brando
Bad ass James Dean, who was said to have idolized Marlon Brando
Gerard in the front and a little Wisdom in the back. Seriously, Gerard's thighs are a thing of beauty
Now thats swagger for your ass! Get it Mr. Pooper!
Can't remember dudes name, but he's African royalty and plays football (I sooo want to say, "The royal penis is clean your highness.")
Y'all remember Dhani right?
Ok, so they aren't that hot, but its De La Fucking Soul!
Daniel something or other, I think he may have gotten a chin implant though
Dreamy fucking Lonnie Rashid Lynn...
How bout a little Trouble filling for that Barber sandwich?

Pooper

Cool Beans

Duke thinks he can talk, but he don't have anything on these guys!

Poor Confused Pooper!

Duke has issues, he's not entirely sure that he is a dog. Sometimes, he thinks he's people. When I was applying for this job, I had my first interview by phone, and for the first 4 minutes of the conversation you could hear Duke fussing at me in the background. I finally managed to get him out into the hall and close the door, all while answering CFO's questions as intelligently as possible. And CFO goes, "Was that your husband, do you need to go?" and I'm like, "No, that was my dog." CFO cracked up then we continued with the interview, after I got Duke to "speak" to CFO (he asked! and I was trying to get the job!) A week and a half later I had the job.

And when I first got him, I think he thought that I might not feed him, cause food used to disappear. I don't mean come home and find the contents of the fridge all over the floor and the dog throwing up. I mean that big son of a bitch used to steal shit and I would have no idea what the hell was going on. For a little while I just thought that Mommy was taking food from my apartment. I mean one time I made some baked ziti and separated out some to freeze (see Afro.) I put it in a plastic container and left it on the kitchen counter to cool off some more. I go in the backyard read a book for about an hour, come back into the kitchen and the tupperware is sitting right where I left it except its clean and empty. I mean not a drop of sauce out of place, not random noodles and perfect fucking placement! I figured Mommy just came down and put it in a different container and left me the clean one. It was about a week later when he snatched half a corn muffin out of my hand that I figured it out. He was good too cause if I had turned my head and didn't see him, I wouldn't have felt a thing. And boy did he swallow that quickly. It was kinda hard to chastise him when I was kinda impressed.

Then there was the time that I came home to find Duke eating a lollipop, holding the stick between his paws and licking away (I've been trying to get him to do this again cause it was adorable and I need a picture but he's not cooperating.) Or the time that he ate a whole pack of Hi Chews and left the pile of wrappers in the middle of my bed (what 120 pound dog do you know that unwraps candy?)

But if Duke is confused, so is my sisters cat Anansi. I go to their house and say, "Hey Nasi, show me your tummy!" And he sits down and rolls over like a dog!

Pooper Tales

Yes yes yall! It's that time again. It's time for Duke stories!

I've had Duke for almost 8 years, which makes him maybe 9. Duke was a rescue dog, the woman that rescued him thought that maybe the person that had Duke didn't realize that he would get so big. So they left him tied up in front of a pet store one night. The nice people in the pet store brought him inside and contacted a local woman who rescued dogs and she put an ad on petfinder.org. I was trying to complete the course work for my major so I was only working part time as a receptionist/assistant manager in a private health club in a condo in Manhattan. That meant that I was home most of the day since I worked mainly very early mornings, opening the club and then was only at school til about 1 in the afternoon 3 days a week. Emmelinda, the rescue lady, drove Duke and another dog to my house in the spring. She said she wanted to introduce me to another dog in case it didn't work out with Duke, who didn' t have a name at the time. So she pulls up in a van and I see a man driving, a two women, one who is holding the most adorable little dog who's growling his little head off at me and my mom. The other woman is getting out of the van, but proceeding her is this big, gangly, hairy, muddy mess of a dog. He practically drags Emmelinda out of the van and comes straight to me, rubs his big old head on my knee and starts crying. It was love! I mean he was so pitiful, and so adorably awkward that I couldn't help but love him. I wiped him down, brushed him, it was going great. And then my mom came to say hello and he peed on the floor.

About a month later, things were going well with Duke. I'd gotten him used to my Mom so he wasn't peeing on the floor anymore. He'd gotten used to another male, the Artist, coming by the house. Well, that is after the time the Artist threw a box on him when Duke went after his nuts. He hadn't peed or pooped in the house for about 2 weeks. So I figured it was alright if I went out for the night. Wrong-o! I got home at about 5:30 because I went to a club out on Long Island and when I say it is a miracle that I got home safely that, I mean it. My cousin and I were drunk off our asses. So when I got home and heard a dog barking like crazy outside I didn't quite put all the pieces together. And when I stumbled up the front steps and into the house, I'll admit I was a little suspicious that something was wrong. Especially when I was struggling to remember the alarm code and realized that the alarm was not on. Hmmm, that's strange, I set it before I left. And Mommy always resets it after she takes Duke out for the night. Will that fucking dog shut the fuck up so I can think! Wait a minute! Where's Duke! I run upstairs to Mommy's apartment screaming, "Mommy somebody broke in and stole my dog! Oh my Gawd! Oh my Gawd! Why would somebody do that! And why the hell is that dog barking like...."

Mommy was awake, and quite pissed. It seems that about 2 hours after I left, about an hour after Mommy got him to calm down and stop barking, Duke chewed through the alarm wire in the front hall way. The one it seems that was linked to the panic button. Mommy finally falls asleep, in her room on the third floor in the back, where she can't even hear the doorbell, and the cops, the fire department and the paramedics are all about to break down the front door. Luckily someone at the alarm company was smart enough to try the phone which finally woke Mommy, who promptly smoothed over the emergency service people and kicked Duke the fuck out of the house.

Speaking of emergency service people, I once was seeing a fire man. And by seeing I mean, we went on one date and the rest of the 3 months we were around each other was basically spent having sex. At my house. Did I mention that I put up with him for three months? I mean he wasn't really much to look at, but he had the most beautiful clear dark brown skin, and a gorgeous smile. And fuck, he was a got damned fire man, how cool is that! So he lived at home with him mother in Queens and his fire house was in Brooklyn, so many a night he would spend at my house before he had to go on duty. One night, not shortly after I think to myself "if this guy wasn't a fire man I would have stopped dealing with his ass weeks ago, I mean he's kinda a bitch", Duke walks up to him, stands up and politely starts to hump his leg. Now Duke has humped stuff before this, usually my bed (when I'm not in it mostly but once I did wake up to a rocking motion) and for some strange reason one woman I know, but mainly Duke's a ladies dog. So I can only assume that he was picking up on my thoughts that this guy was a bitch. But I decided to give it a go, I mean he was a pretty nice guy with a great body. That seems to be my weakness, I'm a sucker for a great chest, nice arms, firm thighs and a tight ass. Two weeks later, I'm out with one of my homeboys and we run into FireBoy outside of a club. I introduce them, "FireBoy, this is my homeboy BigGuy" they do the dap thing, FireBoy goes back over to his friends. I feel it important to point out several things before I continue.
1- FireBoy was not my man. I think I mentioned the one date and he didn't even feed me, we played pool. I think there is some kind of rule where they have to at least feed you to claim you.
2 - I have told FireBoy several stories about BigGuy, who is not my man and I have never slept with him. And at that point he had never hit on me.
3 - I was wearing a pair of jeans, not skin tight, some random heels and a tshirt, hardly date wear or club wear but BigGuy was bored and so was I thats why we were out.
4 - I've knew BigGuy longer than I did FireBoy
So FireBoy goes back to his friend and BigGuy starts chucklin bout how I'm gonna be in trouble for being out with some other dude. And I'm being me, and poppin off bout how he's got no right to get mad at me for being anywhere, and bout how he said he was going to a wedding tomorrow, nothing bout going to a club. Next thing I know, the cops are arresting some dude for punching a horse. I can't see, but BigGuy is like 7 feet so he's telling me what's going on. "Oh shit Trouble! It's FireBoy!" I'm really not sure what actually happened. One of the bouncers said that FireBoy was going back across the street when the mounted cop told him to get on the sidewalk. FireBoy told the mountie he didn't like horses and to get it away from him. The mountie tells him to just get on the sidewalk and FireBoy decks the poor horsie! I called him later that night and found out that he was released around the corner from the club since he was a fireman but that was all he really had to say to me. Two days later he told me he thought that I was too close to my dog, and he didn't want to see me anymore. I said, "Ok, take care!" and hung the fuck up. Not surprisingly, about 2 months later he texted me asking if he could come over. I wrote back and said I'd probably be giving Duke a bath and to try me next never.

I Need a New DigiCam!

I kinda knew this but it didn't strike home til I tried to take some pics of Dukie last night. Do they even make 3.1 megapixel cameras anymore? Cause they shouldn't, they suck!

Here's Duke

and thats my sneaker! I also realized that Duke really isn't that fond of picture taking...

Eddie von Brentwood

Did I mention I love animals? Probably more than people cause people tend to suck and talk back and shit. There are exceptions to my animal lovin, those are most rats, mice, bats, most birds (I never got over watching The Birds and those suckers always divebomb me. The exception to the bird rule are the little brown birds that live in my backyard, those lilhomies are coo wit me.), and anything that does something gross. So when the second day of Asshat Bossman being a jerk came around, Hautechick sent me this pic to cheer me up...

Adorable right? He looks like he could be friends with my Pooper! And for a second I was exultant again, that is til I went here. It seems some nincompoop (asshead, doodle, idiot, imbecile, jackass, jerk, mooncalf (ha!), ninnyhammer, schmo, schmuck, blockhead, buffon - I found a thesaurus in my office so you choose!) hit poor Eddie, dragged him for a couple of blocks and then left him to die. Now some good Samaritan found Eddie and called a local animal shelter and you know what they did? They gave him some pain pills and waited to see if his owner would show up. In the meantime, poor Eddie is stuck in a shelter with his broken bone protruding from his leg (which is a good example of why I don't like peoples!) And that is where the good people at Westside German Shepherd Rescue of Los Angeles found him. His since had three surgeries and is doing better, but is still fighting some staph infections and Westside is still looking for a home for this guy (Danae he's only 4, I think your PD should adopt and train him!) and trying to pay off his medical bills. So I made a donation. And while I still want to kick Bossman in the throat, I think I deflected some bad karma points by helping out Eddie.

endnote: to those who say I should be helping people, I say fuck you! No just kidding - kind of. I'm from the teach a person to fish school of helping out, so I routinely make no interest loans to entrepreneurs in developing nations (notice I did not say third world) through Kiva.org

Who Let the Dogs Out?!

You're not looking for them, but I found your two dogs.

---

Date: 2007-08-16, 10:19AM PDT


Sigh. No one is looking for these guys. And I see why. They hump everything in sight, try to dominate our old doggies, try to eat our cats and pee on everything and bark at everything. Neurotic, lick constantly. They know no commands, either in English or Spanish. They are aggressive and probably lived in a puppy mill. You dumped them, probably, and we picked them up before they were killed by traffic. Unneutered, no tags, under 1 year old small males. I hate you, person who dumped these dogs. There are no lost ads on phone poles, no lost ad on Craig's list, no lost ad in the paper. We put signs up all over, put a found notice in at the local pounds and if you were looking for these filthy little ragamuffins, you would have found them. We are afraid to take them to the pound because under stress, your dogs were snappy and horribly afraid and dogs are judged by temperment for adoption placement. They would not have passed that test. However.....

They are, under their filth, mats and horrible habits, adorable. They have learned "Quiet," "Come," "Sit." They have stopped being so neurotic and we have broken most of their bad habits in just a few days. They are smart and sweet and are looking for guidance and WANT to be good little dogs. One is a purebred little white and buff guy with an underbite, the other is a brown little dog that looks almost exactly like a miniture version of a larger breed dog. They know each other and were obviously (by the same bad habits) raised (poorly) together. We will get them neutered, train them and get them into a good, loving home with people who use the brains God gave them.

If these are your dogs, come on by, I'd like to kick your ass.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 398534694

I hate puppy mills!

For the Dogs...

Note to the dogs

---

Date: 2007-08-16, 1:43PM CDT


Dear Dogs of Mine,

It seems that lately things have gotten a smidge slack around here. I feel it is time to remind you of the rules that heretofore we have operated under. You are both cute dogs, but your continued cuteness in no way negates our previous agreement. Let me remind you of a few details of this agreement.

1. In exchange for room and board, you are to guard the kingdom. That would be guarding the kingdom from any and all bad guys, robbers, serial killers, etc. Feel free to bark maniacally at any of those that should appear in the yard. Guarding the kingdom does NOT include barking maniacally at bunnies, squirrels, cows, sheep and invisible things that only you can see, especially between the hours of 5am (when I stumble out of bed to let you out) and 8am (when I actually have to be out of bed to get to work).
(And let me take a moment here to remind you that the pizza guy is a potential bad guy. He is not your friend. Just because he comes bearing food does not allow him free and easy access to the kingdom. He is potentially way more dangerous than the bunnies that you threaten to tear limb from limb.)

2. All of the stuff that lives in the toy basket is yours. Everything else is mine. Yours includes squeaky balls, random bones, partially unstuffed stuffed animals and chew ropes. Mine includes any and all shoes on the floor (especially the expensive leather ones), underwear that missed the hamper, bras, socks, dishtowels, the remote, the cell phone, the legs of my grandmother's antique chair and the vacuum. Did I mention shoes? ALL the shoes are mine. They come in pairs, not quads, for a reason.

3. The cat gets to sleep on the bed. You do not. You each weigh 50 pounds. The cat weighs 12. You sleep smack dab in the middle of the bed with all four feet spread out covering approximately 12 square feet apiece. The cat sleeps in a neat little ball covering about 2 square feet. The cat does not bring fleas into the house. You do. You, dogs, will never be allowed to sleep on the bed. Quit sneaking up when you think I'm not looking. Your 50 pounds of dogginess negates your stealth superpowers. I know you are up there!!

4. Speaking of the cat- when he hunkers down into that little mound, lays his ears back, squints his eyes and growls way back in his chest, HE IS NOT A HAPPY KITTY. Leave him alone. He does not want to play with you. What he wants to do is poke your eyes out and shread the skin around your face. He can do that, you know. Five of his 6 ends are really sharp and pointy. He has previously shown very little restraint. Clearly he enjoys smacking you upside the head with a paw full of claws. Do not aggrevate him. When he takes your head off after you have cornered him, I will let him. You have been forewarned.

5. The cat is mean. He will lead you down a path to destruction. He likes to tear around the house winding you up. He does this knowingly and intentionally. When you chase him, I will only yell at you for careening into walls and furniture. He knows this. Quit falling for it.

6. If you find something in the garbage can, assume that I intend for it to be there. Platic tampon shells are not chew toys. Don't eat them.

7. Also not for doggy consumption- anything you find in the litter box. This is why you no longer get to kiss me.

8. You are allowed to sleep on the furniture. You are not allowed to eat the furniture.

9. Yes, I have to leave every day to go to work. No, you cannot go with me. That's why there are two of you, so you can entertain each other. The cat gets to stay in the house. You both have to stay outside while I'm gone. The cat does not chew things up. You do. Quit whining about it. Your porch is air-conditioned. It's just like inside the house minus the sofa. If you'd quit chewing up dog beds, it would be just like inside the house. You have made your own proverbial bed by destroying two very expensive dog cushions.

10. I have opposable thumbs. This is why I get to be in charge. I can open cans, doors, and bags of treats. I am the only one in the house that can operate the hose sprayer. I'm also the only one with a driver's license and a car. I win. Being cute is no match for opposable thumbs.

While I in no way wish to suppress your rightful dogginess, I feel that these very simple guidelines will allow us to continue to co-exist in peaceful harmony. Please know though, that should you choose to continue in willful violation of these rules, I WILL PUT THE CAT IN CHARGE. He has just been itching for a position in management.

Much thanks,
The Human

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 398608788

I feel your pain Human, I feel your pain. When I first got Duke he used to be obsessed with my dirty panties. Nothing makes a better impression than bringing someone home and finding dirty panties all over the floor!

Marmaduke!

(another one of Duke's nicknames and sooo fitting)

He doesn't know many tricks but the ones he does know are priceless!

• "Show me your tummy" - he'll roll over and (*gasp*) present his big old hairy tummy for a rub.
• "Shake Hands" and "No, Your other hand" - pretty self explanatory.
• "Take this upstairs" - kind of obvious except he hasn't really learned to let things go so once he gets upstairs you have to chase him to make him give whatever it is up. And keep an eye on him cause things have been known to disappear into Duke space.
• Waking me up - he's big enough so that he can rest his head on my bed. I tell you there is nothing quite like getting smacked in the face by a big hairy paw and then opening you eyes to a mouthful of very large teeth.
• Protecting the Baby Birds - a family of those little brown NYC birds has adopted our yard. The first year they moved in, Duke kind of sort of might have could've maybe hurt one of the babies (He was playing! and got very upset afterwards) and ever since he's been their protector. Don't let some other bird come in the yard and start some shit. Duke will be right there surrounded by little brown birds while they fuss at the intruder.
• Not scaring the old folks - I always think he's going to start barking at some poor old woman or man and give them a heart attack. But somehow he never scares the old farts.
• Scaring the thugs - this is actually my favorite trick, and probably the one most likely to get me shot. He has the uncanny ability to sneak up on thugs and cause them to scream like girls. I swear I spent half of Saturday sitting in my hammock, cracking the fuck up as thugs went flying away from my gate! That shit is priceless.
• Getting me to dance - His newest and most annoying trick. He lays in front of the bathroom door and won't move. Meanwhile I'm dancing back in forth, trying not to pee on myself screaming "Duuuuuuke! Come on move your big ass before I pee on you!" Oh and he lays so that you can get the door open like an inch, so I can see the toilet which usually makes it worse. He also has a version of this trick where he waits until I'm in the bathroom and then lies in front of the door so that I can't get out. Or where he lies in front of the front door so that I can't leave for work.

Mr. Pooper

That's my current nickname for my dog, Duke, a Belgian shepherd mix. He pretty much looks like a long haired German Shepherd. But occasionally I do get "Ghetto Lassie" comments.

Here he is dressed as Andre 3000 (thanks Hautechick!) He is totally a spoiled brat, and only half way trained, but I wouldn't have him any other way. (I mean come on, how can I be mad at him when I'm basically an untamed spoiled brat myself?!) I have a million Duke stories. There was the time that I was walking him at around 11 pm, totally oblivious, because really who would be dumb enough to mess with a 120 pound dog, even if a 112 pound woman is walking him? Apparently there are people dumb enough and one of them happened to be following me that night. I started freaking out a little bit. Not really scared for myself, more scared that Duke might tear his ass up and get taken away from me. You see, Duke was abused, and for about the first 4 months that I had him, he hated men in general, and addicts specifically. He would go ape shit crazy and attack. Once my brother in law had to throw a box on him to keep Duke from trying to bite off something very important to my sister.

So I was very happy (and quite impressed) when Duke stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, turned around and gave the dude following me his impression of a hound from hell. All raised hair, teeth baring, bass growling, terror dog! (It was so cool! Especially considering that when he wasn't trying to neuter my brother in law, he was busy pissing on my floor in fright. And who knew that crackheads could move that fast.) Then there were those nights that he insisted I let him out, only to follow him and find him (1) tearing someones jeans and they scrambled over my fence (dumbass #1 was trying to steal a bike that was in the yard, how he was going to get it over the 6' fence I still haven't figured out) and (2) have some dude pinned to the wall (dumbass #2's girl threw his keys into my yard and rather than ring the bell, he thought he would get them himself.) And my personal favorite, the time he humped the dude I was seeing. The only time that he has ever tried to hump a male (females your at your own risk, he likes the ladies) and dude didn't even realize what was going on. It was kind of like Duke was trying to tell me that homeboy was a bitch, of course I didn't figure that out until later...