Blogroll Me!
Dear Bloggers,
First of all, that's not me in the picture above, either. For one, I'm Canadian (Quebecois, in fact) and not American; secondly, I'm not white. I'm black...and proud of it! (But once again, Mom liked the picture and thought I needed a patriotic boost.)
Hi. My name is Max. My mom's name is Pearl, my dad's name is Pearl's husband. My brothers' names are Pearl's boys, my sister's name is Pearl's girl.
How're those for juicy details?
Okay, sorry to do this to you folks, but I don't think I can blog at this time. I promised you photos of me, not some cheap knockoff Mom substituted for me, and stories to tell. But Ralphie offended my sensibilities big-time in that last post of mine. He called my stuff "junk"! It is not junk; it was never junk; it will never be junk.
Ralphie, someone's junk is someone else's treasure...or even family jewels. I protect these family jewels and don't need West Coasters calling them otherwise. Got that, California boy?
Okay, so I'm feeling a little sorry for myself; I thought I'd made it big-time in Blogville, setting up dates with cute beagles named Bella, and comparing notes about Shabbos with other Jewish dogs, and just using up my mom's computer time. But apparently not everyone thinks I'm so good...harrumph...calling my personal belongings junk!
Okay, I've vented enough for now. I've got to go check out Phoebe, that little white cute thing who lives a few houses away. Believe me, it's much easier to have a local relationship with Phoebe than a long-distance one with Bella.
So, I might catch you another time...I might not. Ralphie, do me a favor and go hound another dog! Not me...'cause "I'm Da Man!"
Love, Max
8 comments:
Well, Max, I believe that losing your "junk" has made you quite fiesty...settle down there, little Max...You know, that mom of yours could still have your little tail kicked right outta der.
CM, you too??? I think I already made it very doggone clear how I feel about people referring to my jewels as junk . Put up your paws. I'm in a feisty mood indeed!
(Pearl in background: "Max, simmer down, you're getting yourself all tied up in knots. You really are! Look at that leash...it's all in knots!")
Phoebe!
It's over.
Bella.
Wow. I thought my previous comment might ruffle some feathers (or fur), but I didn't think it would be because of the euphemism. How about this:
It is my understanding that removing a dogs, um, "boys" is prohibited. It's why a friend of mine decided not to become a vet. (Although I know at least one orthodox vet - I haven't asked him about it, however.) Of course, considering I was then and am now addressing a dog, maybe I should not be taken too seriously.
Max, Have I got a shidduch for you! She is a boston terrier pup named Vashti! She is very sweet, and keeps a kosher home. What do you think?
Dear Vashti,
I might be interested...you looking for a long-distance relationship? I think we should be "pet-pals" first, to see how things go.
My folks had a dog -- who passed away last June -- who might've been more your type: Tyson Pugsley, a pug. But he's gone now, and *I've* wriggled my little dog tuches into this family's heart.
So in the meantime, let's shake paws on it, and see how the long-distance thing goes. Then we can talk tachlis...
Love, Max
Dear Bella,
Sorry things didn't work out...for now.
Phoebe romped with me a bit this a.m. on the front lawn, but she went sniffing where she shouldn't, and that got my tail in a knot.
Take a number and get in line behind Vashti.
Love, Max
Ralphie,
Of COURSE you should be taken seriously!
But if Max has anything to say about it...
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