My Massage Booth Adventure

Yes, I ran the Massage Booth. There was nudity, kissing, and other inappropriate behavior. I’m not sorry. It was all for a good cause.

Basset Hound Rescue of Southern California runs an event every year called the Spring Games. All proceeds benefit homeless hounds. There are several events, delicious hot dogs to buy, a fabulous raffle. You can get your hound’s ears measured. Make a plaster paw print. Competitions include the kissing contest (yes, owners smear peanut butter or tuna water on their cheeks. And you know they practice at home). There’s a contest for the lowest belly (that’s a tough one is this crowd). The Basset boxer relay: the boxers go on the Bassets, with the tails coming out the holes, then you run to the other side of the ring.

But something was missing. I have an excellent massage therapist, Shawn. After my massage, Shawn moves on to massage the dogs. So in 2001 we decided to run a massage booth at the Spring Games. After all, what could go wrong? Continue reading

Struttin’ Stella

When my Basset, Hennessy, died in 2009, I started searching the Internet for a young female Basset. None of them really caught my eye until I saw Rita. Then I realized she was with Dawn Smith at Daphneyland. I’ve known Dawn for a million years. I asked her if she thought Rita would be a good fit. She said, “Come and get her.” Rita had come into ASPCA Fresno a year before, starving, without any hair. They were going to put her down, but Dawn had room and took her in. She’s probably a Basset/Springer Spaniel, which is why she caught my eye (my first dog was a Springer). I took the big dog and drove up to meet her. Continue reading

Dunked

The Internet is full of evil lying people. Not everywhere, of course. Just on those sites who raise your hopes, then dash them down, removing any hope of happiness for the rest of your life. That’s right. Dunkin’ Donuts, I’m talking to you.

It really started at the supermarket. I’ve mentioned before Gelson’s policy of featuring an item, making me fall in love with it, then immediately discontinuing it. This time it was Ridder cheese. It’s a great cheese with a slightly nutty flavor, soft but not quite spreadable. On crackers, with a glass of wine–lovely. I didn’t panic when Gelson’s discontinued it–after all, I’ve been down this road before. Searched all the big stores in LA. At Ralph’s I asked if they carried it. After much consultation, the answer was no. Except there were four packages on the shelf. I’m no fool, I took all four. Life was good. Continue reading

Drying Out in the Desert

It’s not often I get on a health kick. But now and then, I get a little burst of enthusiasm. I recently took a look at my life and decided to try and improve my nutrition. No, I won’t be giving up mashed potatoes. Or donuts, if I could find any decent ones. I decided to go right the for the big one, the one they said I couldn’t do. I decided to give up Diet Coke.
Not that it would be easy. I know where every fast food restaurant in Los Angeles is, and how much the biggest Diet Coke costs, including tax. Your Super Quencher will be $1.61 at Jack in the Box. Extra-large (ask for “the 44-oz.”) is the same at Carl’s Jr., except occasionally they bump the price back to $1.50 for some reason. Don’t bother with McDonald’s unless it’s summer–the rest of the time they only have large, not extra large. I have been known to choose my cars based largely on the quality and quantity of the cup holders available. Sorry, new Volvo convertible–you won’t be coming home with me. In other words, I like my Diet Coke. Continue reading

One “M” or Two?

My assistant, Paula, usually has an interesting to-do list. You know, “Get doggy ice cream,” “Tow the Jaguar back across the state.” “Take the dog to acupuncture.” Things like that. This week’s list includes:

1. Get Janine’s clothes back from the deranged person.

2. Find the heathen stonecutters.

Let’s start with number two. I’m trying to order a carved stone for a friend’s garden. The catalog company thinks it should say, “Grow, damnit!” I am quite sure the correct spelling is “Grow, dammit!” Isn’t it? (My spellcheck was less than helpful on this issue, suggesting “admit” and “dampish”, among others. Sounds like Bill Clinton’s average week, doesn’t it?)

The plot thickens. We finally convinced the catalog company to go with “dammit.” Then the actual stonecutting company called and refused the order because they are a Christian company and will not use profanity. Even if it’s spelled wrong. Hence the search for the heathen stonecutters. Let me know if you know any. Continue reading