Just For Fun, Uncle Jesse

Happy Independence Day!

To my fellow Americans, and anyone else who believes in freedom, equality and really, REALLY good barbecue…

Happy Independence Day!

I wasn’t going to post today, but Uncle Jesse had something to tell you:

Any plans for today? How mad are you that we have to go back to work tomorrow (if you don’t, listen, don’t be a snot-bucket and rub it in)?

Animals, Uncategorized, Uncle Jesse

If You Don’t Want to Fall in Love, Don’t Read This

There are a lot of really compelling, totally unbiased reasons you should fall in love with my dog, Uncle Jesse (yes, that’s right, we named him after a “Full House” character, ’cause we’re cool like that).

For one thing, have you ever seen a grown, otherwise sassy and able-bodied dog eat lying down?

Did I mention he comes over and gives our feet/legs a lick of thanks every time he has a solid drink of water or a satisfying dose of kibs?

Uncle Jesse even looks pathetic-cute after rolling in disgusting things out-of-doors (and getting an immediate bath):

Have mercy for REALSIES.

If Uncle Jesse’s looks and eating habits haven’t won you over, perhaps his mind-control abilities will. When he has to go outside, he simply stands in front of you and stares.

If that doesn’t work, he gets closer.

And then…

Okay, still not smitten? Well, there’s one more test to see if your heart actually works. When I was a Hurricane Irene refugee at my parents’ house, Peppermeister and Uncle J put on this stunning performance:

What makes your pet(s) lovable?

Animals, Uncategorized, Uncle Jesse

Holy Sh*t, That’s My Dog!

Long Introduction

Have Mercy

As you might recall, one of Uncle Jesse’s first tricks was, “Watch the hair, huh!” (An homage to his Full House namesake.) My jaw-droppingly expensive multi-generational Australian Labradoodle was 9-10 weeks old when he mastered this delightful ditty, immediately justifying his price tag.

Since then, I’ve come up with all kinds of ways to amuse myself at his expense. Mostly in the form of nicknames, which change on at least a biweekly basis*. (Current nickname: Schnoodle. Because he looks like a noodle, it rhymes with poodle, and he’s just so darn…schnoodly. Don’t you think?)

We also call him a ‘man’ instead of a ‘boy’. He’s a good man. A smart man. “Come here,

A Schnoodly man

man.” Along with his name, it tends to confuse people, so we keep doing it.

I also like replacing dog-related phrases and commands with things that are ticklier to my fancy. “Fetch,” for example, has become an appreciative, “Thank you.” As in, “Thank you in advance for bringing me that toy. It was so very kind of you.” Works like a charm.

Short Introduction

My favorite canine comic relief comes from what we say instead of, “Wanna go for a walk?” Instead we simply shout, with appropriate fervor, “Holy shit!” No explanation necessary. Just watch:

*P.S. – For the record, yes, he does answer to “Uncle Jesse”. No one ever believes me!

P.P.S. – We plan on dressing him up as a wedge of cheese this Halloween. Get it? A Cheese DOODLE! Also works for an Uncle Sam costume: A Yankee DOODLE!


Incoming!!! Conversation BOMBS!

I was half-watching an episode of “Bizarre Foods” with Andrew Zimmern earlier this week when something alarming happened. You know, it’s the show where the bald guy travels the globe eating the most disgusting looking-sounding-smelling foods known to man. Normally, it’s all light-hearted fun, and you can easily half-watch while you’re busy a) working on blogs, b) wrestling the dog for the frisbee, and/or c) drunk. On this episode, though, he suddenly had my full attention.

“I was homeless for a year,” Andrew Zimmern said, which, no matter in what context, is ALWAYS out of the blue.

My head snapped up and I stared at the T.V. Did the effeminate host in the pink button-down shirt holding a scorpion kebab just say he was HOMELESS? For a YEAR? (And is THAT why he’s willing to eat anything?)

Yeah, he did just say that.

Naturally, this got me thinking about conversation bombs. Those little one-liners people drop, mid-conversation, that bring the discussion to a screeching halt, while you, bug-eyed and cotton-mouthed, try to figure out a way to get things back on solid ground or run away without being noticed. I always thought one of my own conversation bombs was a real show-stopper:

“I didn’t go to high school. …I was home-schooled.”

But really, homeless bomb trumps home-schooled bomb any day. Don’t you think (vote below!)? Here are some of the more memorable conversation bombs I’ve ever heard, all said directly to me over the past fifteen years. Recognize any?

“I don’t really like music.”

“Well, you get married at 17 because there’s nothing else to do.”

“Do you want to buy some of my homemade jewelry?”

“Don’t say ‘yeah.’ It’s rude. Say ‘yes.'”

“I started smoking when I was 10.”

“I don’t eat white food.”

“How much did you pay for that dog?”


Fountain of Uncouth

Let’s see. We’ve already covered the fact that I was an extra on “Dawson’s Creek,” am obsessed with Glee, Harry Potter and little miss pageants, and that I named my dog after a “Full House” character. You might be thinking this well’s about to dry up.

Nay, friends, I’ve only just begun. (It certainly helps that blogging about guilty pleasures is, in and of itself, a guilty pleasure. That shouldn’t be allowed. It’s like trying to stare at the sun.)

Here are a mere few of the things I plan to bring to your [rapt] attention over the coming weeks. (Please feel free to express your gratitude by subscribing. Or by sending pictures of animals dressed as other animals.)

1. What to expect if you see Daniel Radcliffe naked, live, as I have.

2. What NOT to say if someone asks if you want to attend a week-long Project Management Boot Camp in Blue Bell, Pennsylvania.

3. 9021-Oh My God.

4. Robert Pattinson SINGS! (Holy sh*t, how have I not gotten to this yet!?)

5. My Plan to Save Mankind, a.k.a. The Power of Haikus


See you on the flip side, Crackers (have you not tried these yet?)!

Uncategorized, Uncle Jesse

Forever and Ever

We had our breeder picked out before the puppies were born, and it was a long waiting process until at long last Uncle Jesse, our precious Australian Labradoodle, came to live with us.

When the puppies turned 7 weeks old, we were told which one would be ours, and I thought it only fitting to make a tribute video to occupy me until we could pick him up 1 week later.

(Special thanks to Beth!)

Uncle Jesse

Have Mercy

When I first got my Australian Labradoodle puppy, I tried telling people it was a “labrador-poodle mix.” A mutt, basically. I wanted canine street cred. I was a dog-loving humanitarian, for crying out loud, not some Paris Hilton wannabe with a ball of fluff shoved in a Coach carrying case.

But eventually I surrendered, and I can now admit that I am one of the many Americans who owns a Designer Dog.

And I love him. To death.

His name is Uncle Jesse.

Uncle Jesse is the 11-month-old love child of my allergy-ridden husband and me, and every spare smile and giggle is given to him. He doesn’t shed a single hair, but instead showers us with licks and sassy sidelong glances. It took many months to potty train him and he still responds with snooty indifference when we set down a bowl of organic lamb and rice kibble. He prefers raw beef and expensive, top of the line yogurt. Chunky peanut butter and chicken marinated in fresh ginger seem acceptable, too.

To add to the atrocity of this ultimate guilty pleasure, I’ve found that I like putting him in t-shirts. A lot. And I’ve convinced myself that he likes it, too.

Aside from your pedestrian basics, his first trick was “Watch the hair, huh!” (An homage to his namesake.) He mastered this before he turned 10 weeks old. The downside to an intelligent dog is that you really have to make it worth their while. “This filet is a bit overdone, sir.” Having said this, he’s a complete and total wimp and the only time he’s truly happy is when his family is together. That or he’s got his head stuck out of the car window.

Uncle Jesse is the cat’s meow and if you think you can convince me otherwise, you’re barking up the wrong tree.