My pit bull Gotti escaped again.  This, the day after the local news reported that a man shot his neighbor’s pit bull because the dog kept wandering onto his property and was being aggressive.  Gotti has absolutely no human aggression, but he has animal aggression.  If he ever wanders up to the wrong pet, it would be tragic if the owner used lethal force to protect his property.

Gotti is somewhat understanding of the rules, but he is very compulsive.  He knows the consequences of his disorderly behavior, but is not at all concerned.  The short-term gratification of breaking the rules outweighs its punishment.  Gotti’s physical build is massive, and he is wary that no one can physically make him do something he does not want to do.  He is only two years old and my hope is that he will grow out of this stage of delinquency.

I should invest in proper dog training.  Although I desire a dog that behaves itself, I never wanted a robot dog that had no personality and never made a move without approval or a command.  Terriers as a family, are very independently-minded, with an abundance of energy.  They can also be manipulative, and prone to bouts of lunacy.  I don’t think you could ever fully erase Gotti’s personality.

Gotti gets a tremendous amount of separation anxiety.  He’s a city dog, so he lives in a downtown apartment.  When I leave for work everyday, and for the duration thereof, there is a lot going on outside.  Sirens, traffic, pedestrians, postal workers.  I imagine all the hustle and bustle creates tension for him.  When I come home in the evening, he is overly-excited and relieved to see me.  At bedtime, he will sleep across my legs to prevent me from leaving him while he sleeps.

We have a daily routine and when I deviate from it, I am punished by coming home to find a pile of scraps which used to be a shoe, or toiletry, or book, or decoration.  Gotti can be vindictive when he feels slighted.

My neighbor upstairs is unemployed and offered to walk Gotti everyday.  We discussed this awhile ago, and since then, she has adopted a dog of her own.  Bailey is a small fluffy “Benji”-looking dog.  He does not like Gotti.  I don’t blame Bailey, Gotti can be overwhelming and a bit of a bully but with harmless intentions.  Gotti’s two best friends are Daschunds, so he enjoys smaller dogs and is aware of their smaller stature which prompts him to be protective of them.  When Gotti and Bailey first met, their leashes became tangled which drew their heads tightly together.  Bailey freaked, and started barking and twisting wildly while Gotti just remained cool and collected.  Gotti summarily discriminates according to the size of animals, smaller ones do not bother him in the least.  Dogs that are his size or larger make him nervous and agitate him.

 Anyways, today’s antics were unacceptable.  It’s ultimately my fault and I will have to dog-proof my apartment tonight.  However, I will have to call in a professional to help teach Gotti how to enjoy life and also co-habitate with people and other animals.  The two aren’t mutually exclusive and he will be much happier for it.

Music is very personal, so my first instinct is to keep my playlists to myself.  However, I have been offered hundreds of dollars in jukebox cash from strangers to keep the party going with my eclectic favorites.  And, this is my blog and I’ll blog what I want to.

Introducing the following as my ‘heavy rotation’ sounds…

Bongo Bong                                Delta Nove

Stronger Than Me                       Amy Winehouse

I Feel It All                                  Feist

Jenny Don’t Be Hasty                   Paolo Nutini

Island In The Sun                         Weezer

I’m A Lady                                   Santogold

Float On                                       Modest Mouse

Holiday                                         Green Day

Labels Or Love                             Fergie

It’s Amazing                                   Jem

New York Girls                             Morningwood

Cheryl Tweedy (Single)                  Lily Allen

I’m Yours                                       Jason Mraz

Steve McQueen                             Sheryl Crow

Young Folks                                   Peter Bjorn and John

Timebomb                                      Beck

Kiss, Kiss                                       Yeah Yeah Yeahs

L.E.S. Artistes                                Santogold

My Superman                                 Santogold

Shut Up And Let Me Go                 The Ting Tings

Hard To Live In The City                Albert Hammond Jr.

Hang Me Up To DryCold                    War Kids

Come Over                                     Estelle

There Goes The Neighborhood          Sheryl Crow

Gone                                             Montgomery Gentry

My Favorite Mistake                       Sheryl Crow

Love Song                                      Sara Bareilles

Don’t Bother                                   Shakira

Tell Me ’bout It                               Joss Stone

Hollywood                                      Madonna

Saving Grace (Theme)                     Everlast

Spiderwebs                                     No Doubt

Much Too Long                              The Sounds

Midnight Rider                                The Allman Brothers Band

The Queen And I                            Gym Class Heroes

Here It Goes Again                         OK Go

Bang, Bang (Erica Jennings)             Tracy Young

Yeah, so the artists all over the place, underground, mainstream, rock, hip hop, country, punk…Great music is timeless and has no genre.  Beats and lyrics that stir something in us can come in every form.

My friend Georgie came over the other night to bugger me.  He had way too many cocktails and god knows what else.  I made him a muenster grilled cheese, which he wolfed, and then he passed out on my bed.  I love Georgie, and my only non-issue with him is he is a cryer. 

I’ve known a few men to cry, none that I look at quite the same as non-cryers.  Blame it on the social-constructs.  I’ve known my dad for 31 years, he’s had plenty to cry about, but I’ve not ever seen it with my own eyes.  I’ve had a couple boyfriends that were cryers.  Crying is okay in some instances for the male sect.  Funerals, birth of their children, and a few other cases.  Georgie was crying because he claimed he was just so lonely.  I went with it, if I didn’t, I would’ve been accused of being callous. 

Maybe I am callous to men lacking inner strength, emotional strength. I guess my explanation might be, if they think they’re in such a sad condition, they should try being a woman for day.  Yes, today my feminists defenses are up.  En guard (prepare thyself)!

My job is ending at the end of August.  Really, actually a blessing in disguise.  Nothing like a good lay-off to get you back to chasing your dreams.  I’m listening to the “Sex and the City” movie soundtrack, it’s quite good. 

Leggs booked our tickets to the visit the pan handle for our Gourd friend’s pending nuptials.  She got back last week from taping the show in Japan.  I found a teaser on ABC’s website and it sounds hilarious.  She did warn us that she is definitely the villainess in the first episode, so we better buckle up.  I’m excited to take a vacation, it’s been forever.

Aztec called Friday.  I was busy burning chicken for dinner.  When I called back it was too late.  I know that he will be here soon.  For how long and under what circumstances I wonder.

I re-arranged my living room and bedroom over the weekend.  It really didn’t make much of a difference.  Consequently, it just made me clean more of the apartment than I had intended.  I also bought a power-sander from home depot and got a coffee table done.  The large red kitchen table is next.

I feel like going to the resident gay dance club and kicking up my heels soon.  On an off-night, so the floor is not so busy.  If I stay away from the cocktails, I could actually get a pretty good workout.

I have to go vote in the primaries today.  For democrats in this state, it’s a fairly quick process. 

A blue girl in a red state, that’s me. 

What is going on with artists making music about strippers?!?!  Are there any more songs about the average woman these days?  I thought this music was mostly confined to the hard rock and hop hop genres.  Then I stumbled upon Jason Mraz’s “Butterfly”, he’s adult contemporary, how confusing.

Usher’s “Love in this Club”, T Pain’s “I’m in Love With A Stripper”, Buck Cherry’s “Crazy Bitch”, are all paying homage to the grandeur of women sexually exciting people for money.  I may sound like a hater, but I think the profession has been glamorized enough.  So the music industry has begun to slight the girl-next-door in favor of tear-away pants and pasties.  I am sure most music artists spend a majority of their leisure time in stripper establishments and this is where their artistic inspiration takes root.  Seriously?!?!  Really?!?!?!  Pour all of your effort and artistic invention into a pop song about a woman whose explicit job requirement is to wear no clothes and pretend she’s hot for you?  Whom, if you took the “tips” out of the equation, would spray you with mace and run in the other direction?  Genius.

All I am saying is that the average girl here is wanting some songs about her.  About going to her crappy corporate job, but keeping a smile on her face.  About how sexy she looks when she’s washing her face before bed.  About how you laugh when the dogs knock her down to lick her face.  About how special you feel when she wakes up early and jogs to the cafe to grab your favorite latte.  Or how about you don’t know her yet.  She’s your neighbor who waits tables and takes night classes.  She’s always at your gym taking yoga.  She’s the check-out girl at the gas station.  She’s got her face in a book as you walk by a restaurant window.

Maybe selling the fantasy girl gets better music sales.  Fine.  But I’m not apologizing for my awful body dexterity, and the child-like modesty about my body.  I’m sexy damn it, I don’t need a pole to prove it.

Men crooning about strippers.  It’s played.

Friday night, Gotti went to his grandpa’s house.  I made the best pasta salad, shells, cucumber, celery, olive, bacon-bits, and ranch flavoring.  Fairly dull, which is how I prefer most dishes.  I headed to Leggs’ house and had delicious BBQ, and ended up crashing there.  In the morning, I drove home, gathered up Gotti and went for a hellish hike up a mountain we’ve dubbed “K-2″ (not even remotely similar in reality).  We went for breakfast which was divine, the coffee was strong, and the bacon was thick.  We shopped for sports bras and then chilled back at the house watching a backlog of DVR Real World episodes (such a guilty pleasure).  What a train wreck that show has become. 

I was supposed to meet up with my arena football guy, I call him Lava Lava, because he’s from Hawaii.  He’s on reserve this season, which either means he’s out of shape (partying too much), or did a naughty (underage groupie scandal…haha).  I guess it’s taken me awhile to make the effort with him, because he either wants to lay back at the house and watch a movie (try and get some) or meet me out at a loud hip hop club with his friends and jersey- chasers hanging about.  I’m really at that age where I’d prefer a cup of coffee or a quiet restaurant.  I’m sure he’s at that age too, but atheletes, even D-listers, want to cling to their “player” status for as long as possible.

I ordered Aztec Gold’s birthday gift last week.  A key chain from Sharper Image.  He loves gadgets.  This key chain is no ordinary key chain.  It’s a spring-loaded window breaker, with a seat belt cutter, and among other things a distress signal that can be heard for miles.  He drives a lot, so if he ever plunges into that wild river on accident, this key chain might save his life.

Until tomorrow.

I have none.  I will be headed to Leggs’ for a very laid-back BBQ.  She invited our girl, Mexican, and her baby daddy, Boo.  She said they would probably not show up.  These two are a classic illustration of a pattern in my life and the lives of my friends.

My friends pick the worst men to settle down with.  Partial blame for my singleness goes to them for setting such a horrible example of coupledom.  Losers, complete and total losers is who they chose to tough out the ups and downs of existence.  I really don’t have one shining example of success.  Maybe as alpha femmes, my friends and I were fated to settle on whoever could put up with our ass.  I could accept that explanation.  But why have children with them? 

Mexican and Boo have 4 children, 2 are from previous baby daddies, 1 is together, and 1 on the way together.  So I hear stories.  Boo claimed one child on his taxes, promising Mexican that he would chip in after he gets his IRS check.  He comes home one day with a brand new gold grill (teeth).  There is a child on the way, you’re struggling to make ends, and you blow your money on bling for your mouth?  Gag, choke, huh!?!?!  This is typical for the type of men my friends have chosen for themselves. 

I guess I am somewhat resentful, because as my friends are a part of my life, their significant other is a part of my life as well.  This person that I don’t respect as a human being and gives no contribution or enrichment is someone I have to waste my time with.  Look, I’ve dated plenty of losers, I mean, I’ve topped them all by a mile.  However, I didn’t bring them home, dress them up like daddy dearest, and proceed to form some lasting foundation with them.  No, I had as much fun as I could, then I got the hell out of there.  That’s why they’re called “bad boys” and not “husbands”.  You can’t throw a wool blanket over a wolf, and call it a sheep. 

If you try, the wool is pulled over your eyes, my friend.

Got to run, weekend update on Monday.

I read somewhere that the majority of casualties in Iraq are poor, white southern boys.  Those senator’s sons shouldn’t thank God they don’t have to serve, they should thank Dixie. 

I read somewhere that there are over 20,000 non-citizens currently serving in our military.  Those rich boys shouldn’t pay their Ivy League tuition, they should pay an illegal for taking their place.

The military has always been made up of the poor and dispossessed.  It is very rare to stumble across anyone who joined with other decent opportunities available to them.

I do not believe you should be able to send someone to fight a war you would not be willing to fight yourself. 

Everyone should try.  Get your hands dirty.  Cradle an AIDS baby, help dig a well for a remote village, hug as many old people as you can (they won’t be here much longer), leave a legacy of kindness and generosity. 

When you hear people say, “They’re homeless ‘cuz they want to be,” or “She doesn’t work because she collects welfare,” or “They are always killing each other so just let them,”…you should feel sorry for them.  These are people who have lost hope, these are people who have given up on life, these are people who are close to giving up on themselves.

Remember, I was going to write a letter a day.  I’ve revisited this.  Once a week is a more realistic goal. 

I promise that if you live your life caring for the welfare of others especially in the face of personal gain, it will come back to you. 

I promise. 

I love my friends the Golsons.  The couple getting married in France.  They leave today and last night I was chillin’ at their home, the artists compound.  As I suspected, they left most details for the last minute.  The wedding slide show was not completed, and their vacation ensembles were lying all over, unpacked.  I am admittedly not a good source of assistance in these situations.  Organization is not my strength unless it comes to business.  With leisure, everyone is on their own.  Besides, I’m notorious for hauling wet clothes in my luggage because I will attempt laundry an hour before my plane leaves.

There were a few highlights to report.   Out of hundreds of slide show photos depicting the Golson’s life, I am not in even one.  Um yeah, burn.  Part expected, part don’t-care, part WTF.  Our funnier pics were mostly in Stanley.  She did mention something about not wanting to re-live that part of her life because of the accident.  When we there, she rolled her rig down a hill while she was piss-drunk.  The irony?  I was walking down that hill alone from the same river rat party and was the first to arrive on the scene.  Now why was that ironic?  Our friendship wasn’t even close enough for her to offer me a ride or I would’ve rolled down that hill with her.  I’ve always had a penchant for being sidelined at crucial moments like these, guardian angel maybe.  Anyways, she maintains it was life-changing.  I will maintain that it was the same shit; different day. 

For their wedding gift, I will be re-upholstering and gifting my chaise lounge they love so much.  I’m not in the slide show, they filled up their jet-set guest list before they ever said “boo” to me, and their demeanors have become increasingly narcissistic, BUT, I still love them.  They are like the annoying successful siblings I never had.

Professionally, they are moving up on the food chain.  Having networked here and there, they may be designing a very popular nightclub spot downtown.  It’s only good to have friends in high places, if they can actually remember being at a lower altitude…haha…otherwise, it’s just an empty claim.

I called Aztec Gold last night, and we talked on the phone for a whole couple of hours.  Our conversation was actually filled with substantive topics.  He really can spar with my head trip on life.  It’s that old soul country boy wisdom.  When talking about friendships, he described them as “fecal”…haha…he meant “fickle”.  He sold me on both descriptions. 

Aztec has managed a sober existence for 3 years, he has a strong desire to drink these days.  I told him under no circumstances.  That everything is so much better in hi-def lucidity.  This from the fountain of recklessness.  I made it convincing enough.  I hope.

I will finally see him in a couple weeks.  Then I can wrap my arms around him and breathe him in.  His birthday is June 16th, he will be 26.  I have to think of the best gift.  Sharper Image maybe.

Nina Ricci perfume is off the chain gang…hoo ahh! 

Darla is in love with a deaf man.  She’s trying to convince him to get a BB to text back and forth with her.  I never thought of text in such a con”text”, it is not so passive-aggressive in that case.  You know what they say about a man who only texts you, girl, he’s just not that into you.

I so need to get out of this town.  I missed the deadline that would grant me freedom once again.  My sub-conscience is undermining my consciousness.  It is definitely fear that is holding me back, fear and laziness.  The laziness stems from my superiority complex, like someone like me shouldn’t have to put forth so much effort.  God, this kind of self-analysis couldn’t even come from a hundred dollar-an-hour shrink (complex rears its ugly head).

This weekend, I am going to start sanding and staining that furniture in my living room.  I might paint too.  I want to have a couple BBQs this summer.  Would love to have some peeps over.  My apt is always under construction.  My life is always under construction.  One thing at a time though.

The Coca Cola company wrote me back regarding my suggestions.  I wrote to them about their manufacturing interests in Zimbabwe.  Mugabe has been challenged for his presidency and has ordered the military to rub out any opposition.  Ruthless tyrant.  Civil war could break out.  I asked Coca Cola to send en envoy, an ambassador to help make pleas and ask the government to end the violence against its people. 

The response reads: