Gay Pride 2007 Part 1

HMMM! I WONDER WHO THE PURPLE HAIRED MAVEN IS AT FRAME 1:22!!!

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 5 YEARS & COUNTING

MAY 1ST IS THE 5TH YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE FAMOUS "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED" AIRCRAFT CARRIER DEBACLE BY OUR COMMANDER AND THIEF. HE'S AS RIGHT NOW AS HE EVER WAS. THIS VIDEO SPEAKS FOR ITSELF.

http://www.glumbert.com/media/irack/

I DO TRICKS

WHAT A WELL BEHAVED DOGGIE UNLIKE THE INFAMOUS ABBYNORMAL DOES. GIVE THE LITTLE GUY COMMANDS, HIT SUBMIT AND WATCH HIM PERFORM. BE SURE TO ASK FOR A "KISS" AT THE END.
http://www.idodogtricks.com/index_flash.html

SERVING SPIRITS

SERVING SPIRITS IS A WONDERFUL AND MAGICAL SITE AND STORE. THERE IS A BEAUTIFUL MONTHLY SPIRIT ARTISTICALLY PHOTOGRAPHED BY THE GRAPHIC ARTIST AND PHOTOGRAPHER ARIS DERVIS.

BE SURE TO GET ON THE MAILING LIST @ http://www.servingspirits.com/monthly-spirit.html

YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED.

CAROLE MURRAY, THE REKNOWN ASTROLOGER AND TAROT READER CAN BE CONSULTED THERE ALSO. THE GIFT OF HER INSIGHT IS A BENEFICIAL TREASURE TO ANYONE'S LIFE.

9-11 MEMORIAL TODAY

THE PEACE MEMORIAL WHICH STOOD IN THE PLAZA OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER AND SURVIVED TOTAL DESTRUCTION ON 9-11 IS NOW IN BATTERY PARK. THERE ONE CAN GIVE HOMAGE AND REFLECT ON THE FACT THAT ALTHOUGH MOST EVERYTHING WAS OBLITERATED THAT WHICH REPRESENTED WORLD PEACE ROSE FROM THE DESTRUCTION. THE ETERNAL FLAME HONORS THOSE LOST THAT DAY.

GROUND ZERO NEW YORK CITY TODAY

APRIL 2008 R.I.P. DEAR SOULS GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

DEAR ABBYNORMAL

Dear Abbynormal
My dog is yelping "Ruff Ruff" and travelling by butt across my new oriental rug. What could this mean?
Scooter's Mom

Dear Scoot
Duh! Either it's worms or anal sac needs expressing. "Expressing" is too kind a term, trust me.
I'd take "Ruff Ruff" to mean the carpet pile is too high. Don't add insult to injury and give your baby piles. Change the damn rug. Shit stains ain't easy to remove.
Then again your dog may be into S & M.
Abbynormal

MISS X (Don't even ask...I'll never tell)

MISS X

I guess I drank too much beer because if I didn't piss and quick, I was going to bust a kidney. It was Lundy Gras, the Monday before Fat Tuesday, and the French Quarter was packed with soused locals and tourists alike. And, I'd venture a guess, more than half of them had to pee, as bad as I did. That is, if they hadn't already wet themselves. Carnival in New Orleans always brought out the worst in people or in this regard, a bladder full of urine.

There was no way I'd last standing in another bar's bathroom line. A toilet so near and yet, so far away. So, I figured drastic times called for drastic measures.

Compared to Bourbon Street, Pirates' Alley was all but deserted. Perhaps, I'd found a solution to my dilemma. How fitting? The answer to my prayers would be at St. Louis Cathedral. Or should I say over the low concrete wall separating the church from where I stood.

I, hurriedly, jumped the fence. I dropped my pants and squatted. Looking down at the yellow puddle at my feet, I sighed in relief.

"Oh my God, you just about scared me half to death!" the blond haired girl gasped, "What the hell are you doing there?" "Would you believe searching for my rosary?" I retorted sarcastically, trying to mask my embarrassment. "Sure, and that's holy water you're standing in," she retorted.

Two men in blue were coming slowly in our direction. "It's the cops. Oh shit," I whispered with panic in my voice, "I'm busted." "Not to worry," she told me and winked, "Get decent. I'll run interference and you hop back over here." She didn't have to tell me twice. In a flash, I was zipped and safe on the other side of the impromptu urinal.

"Hey, thanks a lot. I owe you big time. You covered my ass," I said to my guitar-toting savior upon her return. "No thanks necessary," she grinned, "It's my good deed for the day." "Then, at least, let me buy you a drink," I suggested. "Can't turn down that offer," she smiled, "Lead the way." By the way, I'm Cherie. And you are?" She introduced herself. "Well, come on Honey. For some reason, it's starting to smell like a latrine around here." And with that, off we went.

The gay lounge, surprisingly, wasn't packed. The queens were, probably, tending to last minute details. Beaded gowns and coiffed wigs had to be readied before the big day tomorrow.

We ordered a pitcher of beer, found a table near the window, and sat down. You'd have thought we were old friends and not two strangers, who met less than a half hour earlier by happenstance. We were laughing and carrying on and having a grand old time.

Miss X was beautiful, funny, and delightful company. She had the most extraordinary blue eyes. I was smitten. We spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories, suds, and sexy side-glances. Now, I knew the young woman sitting across the table from me was, most likely, not a lesbian as I was. But, it was the sixties, Mardi Gras, and she was quickly getting loaded. If anything developed and my lewd fantasies were fulfilled, she could always blow away any feelings of remorse with the excuse of being high, caught up in the madness of Carnival, or free love's "try anything once" mantra.

Arm in arm, we staggered from the bar. It was dark outside and we were exhausted. Swigging back mugs of beer was a tiresome task and we had worked overtime. A quiet place to kick it and recoup was all that was needed now. I suggested the crash pad I used over Papa Joe's. And, she gratefully agreed.

Weaving our way through the loud and obnoxious revelers was a feat in itself. It took us nearly forty-five minutes to travel two blocks. Finally reaching our destination was becoming all the more enticing to the woman at my side. I sensed she was overwhelmed and frightened.

I closed the door. The sounds from the street were lowered a decibel or two. I lit candles and a joint and we fell back on the mattress savoring the muted darkness and intoxicating smoke.

Her whisper broke the silence. "I never thought I'd make it out alive," she said softly, "The crowds were closing in and I was really getting scared. It feels so good to just, peacefully, lie here with you." She took a toke and closed her eyes. "You're welcome to stay the night," I gently told her, " I've got a bag of grass, a bottle of Chianti, and can put on some mellow music. We've got everything to veg out. You have to get some rest anyway, if you even hope to be up for Mardi Gras tomorrow. And besides, you haven't played me one tune yet." I turned my head, anticipating a response, but she was already sleeping.

We dozed for a couple hours only to awaken to the sound of loud screaming, glass shattering, and then, an approaching siren. "Now aren't you glad you are up here, Babe?" "Sure am," my guest replied with appreciation, "This small town girl isn't used to all these goings-on." I rose and grabbed the bottle of wine and my hookah. I put a record on the turntable and rejoined my company.

"It's so fucking wild how you showed up in my life today. Had you not come along and saved me, I'd probably be just another one of those crazy assholes down there getting into trouble. At the very least, I'd be shit-faced and on the prowl for some nookie," I chuckled. "Glad to be of service to a sister," she laughed, "We do have to stick together, you know."

She took the jug of Chianti from me, raised it to her lips, and swallowed a large gulp. A tiny tear of the red liquid trickled from the corner of her mouth and fell upon her shirt. "Far fucking out," I thought, "Now to pounce." I hurried to the john and came back in seconds with a warm washcloth. "Let me get that for you," I offered. Before she could protest, I began tenderly dabbing at the crimson spot on her breast. I caught her watching my efforts with a strange curiosity. That only caused me to linger all the longer. I felt her heart beating beneath my hand. I raised my eyes and gazed into hers. "Are you seducing me?" she ventured. I answered the inquiry with a gentle kiss.

If there was any resistance on her part to my advances, it faded in a moment. I stroked her golden hair and traced the lovely features of her face with my fingertips. She granted me another kiss, then another, and still another. Our tongues danced. They darted and teasingly probed.

Slowly, we undresssed and took in the sight of each other's nakedness. Passions were mounting. I leaned over and pressed my warm body against hers. "I want you so much," I whispered into her ear, "But, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to, Sweetheart." "I want you too," she replied, "But, this is all new to me. Please can we take it slow, Cherie?" "That's what I had in mind," I assured her, "We have all night to learn about each other." "We have all night to make love," she corrected and pulled me closer.

Our hands and mouths explored each other from head to foot. Ecstasy was the reward for these sensuous efforts. Screams of satiation and smiles of satisfaction were shared over and over by us that night. And when we thought we couldn't bear any more pleasure, our passions proved us wrong.

I rose up on my elbow and gazed at the lovely woman sitting beside me. She strummed her guitar and sang softly. "That's beautiful and so are you," I cooed. She continued playing and filling the room with her angelic voice. "You have a gift, Darling," I told her when she finished the serenade, "That was groovy." She blushed; lay down her instrument on the floor and her body next to me. "Tonight, Cherie, you're the only gift I care about." We made sweet love for hours more. Then, exhaused, our bodies entwined in rapture's embrace, we contentedly fell asleep.

The sunlight drenched the bed. Its cruel rays pried our, reluctant, lids open to tiny slits. We moaned in unison. "Is it morning already?" we asked each other. "I sure as hell hope not. Maybe, if we close our eyes tight, we can pretend it's still a few hours off," I suggested. "That would be nice," my lover yawned, "But we have to face the inevitable sometime and start getting up."

Suddenly, a wave of despair enveloped me. Time was my enemy now. Soon the blond woman with azure eyes would leave. I'd never touch her velvet skin and taste her lips, her breasts, her thighs, and her silky wetness again. The sound of her voice, her laughter, and the melodies she sang would be forever silenced. She'd be gone.

The conversation was stilted and strained as we sipped our coffee and shared a cigarette. "I'll keep in touch," she assured me, "You'll be bombarded with letters." "Well, you better," I said smiling weakly, "Because I'll always cherish what little time we've been together and won't ever forget you."

We hugged each other tightly and shared one last kiss. "We'll meet again," she promised and descended down the stairs. I ran to the window and watched as she and her guitar disappeared into the masked crowd below. I knew we would never see each other again, despite her sincere and heart-felt promises. What we shared was a precious time in space always to be remembered, but never revisited.

The sixties were such a wonderful and exciting time. This hippie lived those years to the fullest and still enjoy reminiscing about all the far-out people I met and groovy times I had, during that tumultuous era. To my surprise, the lovely lady did keep her word, after-all, and I received a couple letters from her, following our brief interlude. But, it had been many, many years since our last correspondence and, as fate would have it, we lost track of one another.

I stood in the kitchen preoccupied with preparing the evening's dinner. All of a sudden, my attention was diverted to the television in the next room and the vocalist I was hearing. I knew that melody; I recognized that voice. "It couldn't be," I thought as I ran over to the set. But, to my amazement, it was. She was there on the TV screen. She was singing and playing the ballad she once sang and played for me. I was mesmerized as I watched her performance. She captivated and enthralled me as she had so many Mardi Gras's ago, when I was her audience and her stage was a mattress on the floor of my French Quarter pad. The song ended too quickly, just as our time together had. And in an instant she was gone again from me.

I followed her career and was so proud of her many achievements in the music industry. As soon as her latest album reached the stores, I was first in line to buy it. I had no doubt I was her biggest fan. I attended her concerts whenever she appeared in town, but always sat there with mixed emotions. Whereas, it was wonderful being so near to her, it saddened me that now, in her celebrity, she was beyond my reach. Of course, I entertained the thought of going backstage and saying hello. But, when it came down to it, I didn't want to, possibly, risk making her uncomfortable in any way or putting her on the spot. I looked back on our night of lovemaking with the fondest of memories. But, in the chance, she might not share my feelings; it was better that, with respect to her, I stayed away.

It was a beautiful New York afternoon. I needed to pick Ralph up for his daily walk. The other dogs, at my side, were extremely rambunctious that day. And if, their behavior persisted, I'd have more gray hairs than I already had on my head. I was too old for this nonsense.

The elevator door slid open. Suddenly, the mutts lunged forward colliding with the exiting passenger. In the commotion, I dropped a leash. I dove to retrieve it and was grateful to see a high-heeled foot pinning the leash to the floor.

"I'm so sorry," I breathlessly apologized taking hold of my charge. "Thanks," I continued turning my attention upward, "You saved my ass." "Not to worry," she assured, "Glad to run interference. It's my good deed for the day." Our eyes met. So much passed between us in that instant. Memories flooded the elevator and knowing smiles quickly crossed our faces. But, not another word was spoken. Then, she was gone. Some celebrity secrets deserve to be kept.

"HOUNDINI" A SHORT STORY

HOUNDINI

I was dog-tired. LITERALLY!!! It had been an exhausting week in the City walking my furry clients. Finally, today was Friday and a couple boarders and I were off to Upstate New York for some R & R.

It was a win-win situation at my home in the country for everybody. The pooches had fenced acres on which to , safely, run and frolic with their pals. The barbeque pit was constantly fired up. And word had gotten around the canine circle, that if you waited just long enough at this cook's feet, from time to time, smoky tidbits would, accidentally, jump off the grill for the taking. Needless to say, they enjoyed this mini-vacation and I, likewise, was happy as a clam. Not once would I have to pick up a leash or pile of poop. And the money wasn't bad either. How could you lose?

Largo and Olaf barked excitedly and pressed their wet noses against the glass, as I turned into the driveway and they saw my girlfriend and their buddies Gumbo and Gaytor awaiting them.

I got everyone inside the house, fixed myself a cool drink, and suggested to the wagging foursome, that if they'd let me relax and put my feet up for a spell, I'd make it worth their while. When they spied me going for the rawhide chews, I knew I had no argument and so, out we went to the upper deck.

It was a beautiful afternoon and I knew the sun's warm rays would be a soothing tonic for my weary bones. I was more fatigued and achy than I had imagined.

I handed the treats out to the "kids", took a seat on top of the picnic table, and propped my outstretched legs on the deck's railing. Before I could emit a sigh of relief, it happened. My life passed by me in a flash. And, so did Olaf!

In an instant, he had leapt over my head, the wooden railing, and teetered precariously on an adjoining roof. I truly believe I saw what seemed to be a mischievious smile on his muzzle, as I strained to reach and pull him back out of harm's way. Because then, to my horror, the dog jumped, fearlessly, off the ledge.

Dreading the worst, I made myself look down. There, cushioned on top of a bush, Mr. O was sprawled. He was winded, but didn't appear to be hurt whatsoever. "Olaf, Olaf," I, frantically, called. He glanced up at me and, I swear, shot me the bird with his left paw. Then, before I could say, "Aw shit!" he scrambled from his leafy perch to the ground and took off like a bat out of hell.

"Damnit! That little bastard could have, at least, sprained something," I cursed. "I should have known he'd pull one of his schemes. Now, I have to track his ass down." The remaining trio of mutts momentarily lifted their heads from their chews to watch Olaf galloping towards the woods. "Don't even think about it," I warned them. They could have cared less, not when there was an extra rawhide treat to fight over.

"Lisa! Lisa! HELP!!!" I screamed. My housemate ran to my assistance with questioning concern. "It's Olaf. He's escaped," I breathlessly informed her. "We've got to catch him before dark. He's almost to the woods. You take the car and I'll head out on foot."

I heard the jeep speed away with Lisa calling for the dog at the top of her lungs. Armed with honey-baked ham, I raced in the direction I had seen him run. Following his trail was not an easy task. He seemed to have gone through each and every mud hole he could find to throw me off. Knee deep in the muck, I swore I'd get even once I got hold of his butt.

I caught up with Lisa, as I exited the woods. I was filthy, exhausted, and smelled awful. We were both dogless, but she had a look of optimism on her face. "Cherie, I think I've got him cornered," she excitedly told me. "Where? Where?" I desperately asked. "You know that mansion we admire down the road? Well, he's in the yard by the pool," she told me, "Get in and let's hurry over there before he takes off again."

Within seconds, we screeched to a halt in front of the home. The owner greeted us, though he didn't look too impressed with my appearance. I don't think my scent was that appealing either. He guided us to the back of his property and there was Olaf sitting as smug as could be.

"Don't spook him. I can't chase his anymore and he knows it. If we don't corral him now, we're screwed," I whispered. Crouching low, we took a breath and sized up the situation.

"Hey, O," I cooed, "Look what I've got for you." I tossed a piece of meat in his direction. He glanced over at it, but was preoccupied with something on the ground. I threw another slice of ham closer towards him, but still he didn't budge from whatever it was. "It's a trick. I know he's going to grab the food and bolt. I just know it," I whimpered. "This isn't the time to freak out, Cherie," Lisa said sternly, "Get a grip."

I slowly began to rise. Come hell or high water, I'd get that dog on his tether. It was now or never. I'd had it. I stood up and helped Lisa to her feet. Olaf stared at me and me at him. He defiantly turned and began to quickly retreat from us, then stopped abruptly.

With tail between his legs and head downcast, he came over to where we stood. He looked so contrite, so sorry, so wiped out from running. At our feet he placed a peace offering. It was a dead turtle.

I grabbed his collar, scooped him and the road-kill up in my arms. We profusely thanked our neighbor, hurried to the car, and headed home.

"Give me a cigarette," Lisa demanded. "But, you don't smoke," I argued. "I do now. Hand one over," she snapped, "Christ, I don't know what stinks the most-you, the turtle, or this afternoon."

The rest of the weekend was uneventful, since Mr. AWOLaf played in the solitary confinement of the small yard and was forbidden any deck privileges.

As I started up the car and prepared to leave on Monday, Lisa told me in no uncertain terms, between puffs on a Marlboro, that Olaf had worn out his welcome and no longer could come for visits. Of course, she was right, but what was I going to tell his owners?

Wayne was at his desk when I delivered O back to his residence. "We have to talk," I began, "Is Judy here?" He told me no, which was for the best. She was the most well-respected and level-headed psychologist I'd ever known, except when it came to her Norwegian Elk Hound baby. Then, she could be as neurotic as her patients.

"He's done it again, Wayne. Olaf took off and gave us a real run for our money this time. Lisa says he is puppy-non-grata at the house from now on. I wish it could be different but I'm in the dog-house too." I went on, proceeding to tell the owner, in detail, his dog's latest escapade. When I finished, Wayne just shook his head in empathy. Since he had chased O, more times than he cared to remember, when the front door was left open, or the leash had broken, he, totally, could relate. He would talk to his wife about what had occurred, but we both agreed it would be better to leave out the part of her precious boy jumping off the roof.

As I was leaving, I turned and chuckled. "One good thing has come out of this, you know." What's that?" Wayne asked puzzled. "I've often heard how the boys are embarrassed to walk Olaf because he squats to pee and they think he's a wimp. Well, the next time they bring the subject up, tell them something for me. Olaf may not lift his leg to take a leak, but their dog can do something other dogs can't. He can fly!"

THE END

THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU AND THE BOYS, JUDY AND WAYNE. NO DOUBT MR. O IS RUNNING AMUCK IN HEAVEN AND KEEPING THE ANGELS IN SHAPE.

SHAKIRA OMFG & OTHER FAVS CHEEWOWWA

CHECK OUT THIS GREAT SITE FOR MUSIC AND VIDEOS. SWEET BABY JESUS SHAKIRA'S HIPS DON'T LIE. GIVE ME OXYGEN! BE SURE TO USE FULL SCREEN BUTTON FOR BEST EFFECT AND CHECK OTHER ARTISTS I ENJOY.
http://music.aol.com/video/hips-dont-lie/shakira/1475152

ANG AND FAVOR JEAN THEN AND NOW

"DEAR ABBYNORMAL" SOON TO FOLLOW

ANSWERS STRAIGHT (OR GAY) FROM THE MUTT'S MOUTH. ABBYNORMAL a.k.a. MOLLY MANHATTAN'S MANIAC WILL GIVE HER VIEWS ON ALL SUBJECTS. NOTHING HAS EVER STUMPED HER YET. PLEASE NOTE: ABBYNORMAL'S VIEWS ARE HER OWN AND NOT SANCTIONED BY VETS OR OTHER AUTHORATIVE BODIES. SHE IS JUST ONE OPIONATED BITCH WITH A DOG BIAS. WHAT SHE RECOMMENDS FOR HER PEERS MAY NOT BE IN THE BEST INTEREST OF THE HUMANS AROUND THEM.

RUNESCAPE'S MODERATOR CHERISLE

GOD KNOWS THERE ARE WORST VICES! VISIT ME IN WORLD 144 @ RUNESCAPE.COM. THE "BEEN THERE DONE THAT" CLAN JUST MIGHT INVITE YOU TO JOIN OUR SELECT FEW.

9-11 RESPECT

THIS IS THE MOST TOUCHING OF REMEMBRANCES OF THAT DAY. I WEEP WHEN I WATCH THIS SIMPLE TRIBUTE TO OUR CITY AND THOSE LOST. KUDOS TO ANHEISER BUSCH FOR NOT EXPLOITING OUR TRAGEDY BUT TOUCHING OUR HEARTS.
http://www.zippyvideos.com/6060787826143556/bud/

"A NEW (YORK) LEASH ON LIFE"

I flew into the Big Apple from the Big Easy on Halloween night 1990 arriving via 747-not broomstick! The move to New York City, while grounded in hope, was not without some sacrifice. I terminated a ten-year relationship and liquidated a life-time of assets for a mere trifle of cash. I left the haunting, yet familiar bogeymen of New Orleans for the yet unknown in Manhattan. Why? I was in love!

The new faces, smells, noises, and bustle of city traffic spurred my adrenaline yet the surroundings also catapulted me into sensory overload. I thought I could handle change; after all, I had over ten years sobriety from drugs and alcohol under my belt plus double that time in therapy.

I was wrong. I began to suffer severe panic attacks, debilitating bouts of depression, and a recurrence of an old nemesis-agoraphobia. I could barely get out of bed during the day and was terrified to venture from my apartment with my new lover on the Upper West Side.

After months of increasing fear and hopelessness, as well as a relationship that was now failing, I contacted the New York Psychiatric Institute's Depression Evaluation Service from an ad I had seen in a local paper. Reluctantly, yet desperately, I volunteered for an anti-depressant study they were offering. This was quite a step for me. Given my past, I feared drugs of any kind and held the belief that more therapy would cure me of my maladies.

As my depression and anxiety syndrome was so critical, they decided to treat me directly rather than risk my receiving a placebo in the study. Hence I began a regimen with my new life's companion-Prozac! Before things got better, however, they seemed to get worse. I was plagued by sleeplessness and nightmares which my optimistic doctors assured me were temporary.

I was barely able to take care of myself at this point yet my ailing psyche longed for normality so I reached out again. This time I phoned the Northshore Animal League and soon became the proud Mama of the most beautiful and energetic shepard-wolfhound pup you ever did see. Gumbo Ya Ya had come into my life.

Gradually the medication began to kick in and the side-effects ceased. I forced myself out of the apartment since I had a pup to walk and train. My fears of new people and places started to subside and I began building friendships with other dog owners in the neighborhood. One new friend was a dog-walker I met in Riverside Park. He said he had a new client in my building but was already over-booked. "Would you be interested in walking a small Jack Russell terrier along with Gumbo?" he asked. Even with all my problems I knew I could walk a little pooch around the block. Hell, Gumbo was proof of that!

So Gumbo and Miss Zoe led the pack, soon followed by Patchouli, Cousin Ginger Ann, and Bonanza Jellybean. My doctor said she didn't really know which came first-the Prozac or the puppies, but the rainy days became sunnier and slowly but surely my footing became more secure. Whatever energy I could muster, I threw into caring for neighborhood dogs and, inadvertently, myself. I was available seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day for pet care and business began to boom!

Throughout my months of depression and anxiety, I had been receiving Social Security disability payments. As I began earning money I knew my regular government check was in jeopardy. Could I risk giving it up? Could I risk depending on myself right now? I so feared relapse and found myself in a scary conundrum. But I knew I had survived far worse, so I decided to gamble on me! "Goin' To The Dogs Of New York," my pet care and boarding business, became a reality that day.

Years have passed and I've scooped more than my share of doggie droppings but I've also made the acquaintance of hundreds of dogs, cats, birds and even an occasional iguana and snake. My favorite perk though is the wonderful "two-legged" creatures I meet while strolling with my "four-legged" ones! It is with rare exception that I encounter a human who doesn't smile or chuckle when they see me and my motley crew of canines stumbling down the street. Sometimes my arm just aches from waving to all the people who tell us hello on our daily rounds.

Early morning walks often reveal their own surprises. While pawing and scratching the turf, certain "clients" have dug up such items as a Santeria altar and a discarded box of old sex toys mistaken for bones! By afternoon, however, we are more likely to enjoy the sounds of a piano concerto emanating from one window followed by a diva practicing an aria at the next.

New York City has proven to be a fantastic town! I have met so many extraordinary people and pets and am no longer afraid! I'm "that lady with the dogs" and I couldn't be happier or more satisfied with my life. If I had a tail it would certainly be wagging! "Goin' To The Dogs Of New York" has been my salvation and I am ever mindful of my success. Recently, while sitting Shiva for a hound of the Hebrew persuasion, I couldn't help but be grateful for my many blessings. I am a thriving entrepreneur with an apartment "dog-house" in the City and a home in the country which also serves as a "beasty bed and biscuit." I have a new relationship but that old love interest that I came here for in the first place is now a dear and supportive friend who even walks a dog or two for me on weekends. Gumbo has a brother named Gaytor and depression?-well that's a thing of the past. What do I have to be sad about? Everday I get an abundance of unconditional love and the only crap in the world I have to put up with...I get to throw away!

NO I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH THAT MAN!!!

IT'S EVERY BROAD FOR HERSELF BUT I WOULD HAVE COME OUT OF RETIREMENT, PUT ON A BERET AND BLUE DRESS, AND HUMMED DIXIE! NOW I KNOW WHY MISS MARY WARNED ME "BE CAREFUL OF YOUR BACK, HONEY. REMEMBER NO KNEELING." BLONDIE HOGGING BILLY MIFFED ME TO THE ENTH. I DID GET NOTICED FROM THE PODIUM AND A WARM HANDSHAKE BUT MARY AS YOU CAN SEE TITTY RUBBED THE FLAG OFF HIS CHEST. GO GIRL!!!

MY MAIN MAN BILL CLINTON

WELL I'M OFF TO SEE AND, HOPEFULLY, MEET THE BEST PREZ I'VE EVER KNOWN. ORCHESTRA GIVE ME A FEW BARS FROM SHOWBOAT. "HE'S JUST MY BILL AN ORDINARY GUY....." GODDAMNIT, THAT MARY IS BEING A BITCH AND HAS HIDDEN MY KNEEPADS. WELL, I CAN WING IT AND SUCK IT UP. TA TA BLOWING YOU KISSES. GOTTA GET THESE LIPS IN SHAPE!!!

DEDICATION

THIS BLOG IS DEDICATED TO THE "PRECIOUS PUP OF THE ANGELS" COUSIN GINGER ANN. HOPEFULLY, SHE AND HER COHORTS IN CRIME GUMBO AND GAYTOR ARE BOUNDING THE CLOUDS AND DRIVING THE HEAVENS BESERK IN SEARCH OF THE ALWAYS ELUSIVE TENNIS BALL. I MISS YOU GUYS!