Super Dog

Well, I don't mean it so literally!!!

As I have mentioned before, I manage the largest pet care service in Washington, DC. We take care of roughly 750 a week, primarily in only the Northwest Quadrant of the city, and a few blocks spilling into the Maryland suburbs. We have a staff of about 15-18 'walkers' at any given moment, and provide 24/7 coverage 365 days a year. The majority of my time, is spent focusing on marketing, advertising, low end design work, scheduling, hiring new staff, training new hires, and assisting with invoicing, once in a blue moon.

I also provide pet care services to some of our 'higher maintenance' clientele, to ensure their satisfaction with our company, god forbid one of our scruffy punk rock staffers makes them nervous. This often means that I find myself in *unusual* circumstances, sometimes caring for people who have undergone heart surgery, elderly people who are now too feeble to walk their own dogs, women 'too pregnant to move,' and the like.

Overall, I consider myself a relatively good care taker. I am pretty intuitive, sensitive, (insert ominous foreshadowing here ___), and when I override my instinctual shyness, I can even be quite gregarious. Most of our clients (over 2,000+) seem to like me, and enjoy chatting with me when they get the chance. Sometimes I still find myself a little tongue tied and stuttery when faced with someone I make out to be a bit intimidating.

Meet: The Power Lesbians.

Two of the remaining few clients I assist directly are what I refer to as "The Power Lesbians." They are two women, most likely in their 50s, who are an incredibly powerful and influential couple. One is a retired lawyer, while the other is a famous political journalist for televised news programs. (Yes, you would know her...) They make me nervous.

Both of these women are powerhouses not to be reckoned with, which of course, throws me into nervous spasms every time I approach their huge, minimalist, modernist mansion. Ugh! I feel anxious even thinking about it.

The *funny* part is that these women seem to adore me, and rave about how lucky they are to have me caring for their precious pets. (Again, with the foreshadowing...) They would say repeatedly how important it is for their two boy dogs to have some "positive male influence" in their lives. I thought they were joking, until one of them finally fessed up that their previous dog would passive aggressively pee around the house if a guy came over. Oh, they weren't joking! Anybody else find this hilarious, saying this kind of shit to ME?!?

Just yesterday, the lesbian lawyer (think of Jane Lynch from Glee and Best in Show), praised me for almost a half hour, raving about my meticulous attention to every detail her dogs need. While I was readying myself for an awkward exit, she stood silently, with her "math face" on, as though she was cornered with a new exhibit right before her final cross examination.



PL: "Will, I was wondering if there is anything that you want for Christmas." (Notice, this was a statement, not a question.)

Will: "Um – no, no, no...! There's nothing I need, and these guys are so much fun to be around, it's a joy to see them." (Did I even answer her question in there?)

PL: "Well, I wanted to get you something special you might like as a 'thank you' for taking such great care of our boys. But I didn't want to get you something you didn't want, so I was thinking I'd just give you a check. I know – it's so gauche, but that way you can get what you'd like."

Will: "Really – these boys are so great, I don't need anything. But I appreciate your gesture."

She wouldn't accept my deflection, and persisted. I knew I didn't have a chance against the Power Lesbians, so I acquiesced.

Fast forward to today: I was feeling a little under the weather, literally, as it was 30º and incredibly windy, but otherwise okay. I arrived to their homo-mansion to only find the older of their two dogs, but mysteriously, it sounded as though someone might be rustling around upstairs. (Note: I would *never* go upstairs in the lesbian lair. Nope, never, nunca!)

I took the one dog down to the nearby park (which I have to drive the dog to get there, btw!), and upon returning, found Jane Lynch's doppleganger cavorting with the younger pup. She asked me to take the little guy out to the back yard to let him pee, and reminded me that I didn't need a leash. Meanwhile, she walked the older dog down to their renovated basement, and told me to follow with the pup in my arms. As we arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the little westie pup decided to completely launch himself out of my arms in an attempt to catch his Mom. This wriggling made me nervous, and I tried to get a good handle on him, with no avail, and through the air he leapt. It was like some slow motion multi-angle action shot in a blockbuster thriller – About a westie pup... It was awful!

Watching the dog mid-air, I freaked out, and tried to catch him, with no luck. He hit the ground, causing his little stubby white legs to buckle under him, and he belly flopped on the hard, ceramic tiled floor, bumping the very chin that she just told me last weekend might have a rare bone spur on it. Awesome! (Had I used the leash like I *had* been doing, this wouldn't have happened... Why did she tell me not to take it???)

I almost threw up.

She looked at me, as we both scurried to comfort the little guy who seemed completely unfazed. He was fine. I was the one in pain. The awkwardness and distress of having to sit there with the owner holding back her accusatory rants, and inflammatory tone. I was partly impressed that she didn't totally lose it on me, but I also felt so guilty and ashamed, I wanted to slink away and leave the key under the mat.

The Power Lesbian examined the little guy, as we both stared at him in concern, and she generously mentioned that this same exact thing happened to her a few weeks earlier, and not to worry. That's all I could do, imagining that his bone spur has broken off, and is now traveling freely inside his mandibular cavity.

I took him out in their back yard, where he frolicked carefree, diving into the still pristine white snow snout first. After what seemed like 18 dog years, the Power Lesbian joined me outside to rush things along, as she needed to head out to an event. I wanted to dive into the snow snout first as well, hoping to dive deep enough to disappear entirely. She tried to make me feel better still, and asked if I was still coming back tomorrow for their two visits while she will be away at a family funeral. Was I still allowed? Was I fired? She thanked me for my help, and told me to "take good care of the boys tomorrow." I think she meant: "take BETTER care of my boys tomorrow."

Just in case you were wondering: Dogs apparently can fly, it's the landing part they aren't so good at... Ugh, so much for being that sensitive, caring, positive male influence this dog needed! Jeez...

The Apartment

I must apologize in advance: I know I just posted an entry about Shirley MacLaine not too long ago, with Sweet Charity and Irma La Douce, but The Apartment is on, and I can't help it! It just happens to be one of my all time favorite films. Have you ever seen it?

Jack Lemmon plays C.C. Baxter, a mid-level accountant in a huge firm, with several of the executives utilizing Baxter's Manhattan apartment for mid-week trysts with 'girls' from the office. These execs hide their infidelities from their wives by pretending to have banquets, meetings and other such work commitments to sneak away from their expecting families. Baxter has a crush on the Shirley MacLaine character, Fran Kubelik, who is the elevator operator at that commercial high rise.

The conflict is that Baxter has a crush on Ms. Kubelik, who is seeing the big boss, Mr. Sheldrake, played by Fred McMurray, who plays an amazing asshole in this gem. But *that* guy is married, and a notorious playa, (I know, insane to think of Fred McMurray, from My Three Sons, as a stud, right?!?) who keeps repeatedly breaking Ms. Kubelik's heart, despite her repeated attempts to get over him. A few twists and turns, in the grand style of Billy Wilder, and you have yourself one great film.

I remember catching this on cable for the first time as a young teenager, and being completely dumbfounded about how overt they were about the sexism and promiscuity in the early 1960s. This was the original Mad Men. Seriously! Everyone smoked at the office, had amazing style and grace, the furniture was impeccable, leaving me coveting a few mid centuries sofa sets, and all of the secretaries (yes, they still called them that back then), and switch board operators (yes, once upon a time *real people* operated telephone networks), all spoke with that totally affected New Yorkie nasally twang, wore cat eye glasses and leopard print coats.

As much as I would love to pretend that the relations between the sexes have improved since this film was shot, maybe the only real difference is the implied sense of... Wait, no, that's not different either. Maybe there is no change. People still cheat, still make up excuses for why it happens, still cover for other people's infidelities, and so on. Which begs to ask: Is this just the human condition?

A good friend of mine and I were talking about the subject of cheating, and she said she would never cheat on her current boyfriend, but had admitted to having trysts while with previous partners. She said the difference is that she knows her current partner would just leave, no questions asked. Even when problems arise between the two of them, she can tell herself that every relationship will have its challenges, and instead of straying, she'd prefer to stick around and work it out. She kind of joked by saying that she doesn't really feel like she can slack off in this relationship since he always seems just out of reach, and she really has to work for it.

Her boyfriend made a comment that I found shocking, especially after watching The Apartment. He said that she only likes him because he's a dick. She sort of winced, and asked him what he meant. "Women think they like the nice guys, but the truth is, they really only like the assholes who are nice to *them.* It makes them feel special. They never go for the guys that are nice to everyone. It just wouldn't work."

Huh... Ms. Kubelik's line echoes in my head: "Why can't I ever fall for a nice guy like you?"

Is this true ladies? If so, I've got some bad habits I need to be developing...

Snow Day

The bad part of managing a pet sitting company is that you don't really get to telecommute for the pet visits themselves. Today was the first snow day of the season. It was gorgeous, cold, and made me nostalgic for my childhood in New England. I watched a father bring his two kids to this park, and try to go sledding down these modest knolls. It was really endearing, and made me yearn for the innocence and exuberance that is mostly found in our youth.

There is a part of me that feels somewhat dislocated. Watching that father with his kids, and feeling like I am stuck somewhere in between those two roles, perhaps permanently. Even though that particular dad might only be a few years older than me now that I've turned 34, I fear that I will always appear adolescent.

The other day a newer friend of mine mistakenly assumed that I was older than my brother. She said that I always take care of things, that I have my shit together, and end up taking a lot of people under my wing. It sounded so strange to me, as I feel like I have "little brother" emblazoned on my forehead. Everything about me seems like it was formulated as a reaction to having an older brother. Things like my paralyzing shyness, my fleeting insecurities, my yielding nature. Even the testosterone can't completely override that foundation of being a younger sibling.

My childhood seems so far away now. Yet fatherhood seems equally far, not to mention daunting. I'm left wondering when I'll ever look my age, and how to grow into it.

The spectacle of it all...

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I think I forgot to mention how I was basically heckled at my own birthday party. A bunch of folks mentioned that they liked my new specs, and we got to chatting. My old roommate, Michael, who was in attendance, just purchased the same small indie brand (Moscot), the same style (Nebb), but got the Olive color I was considering for sunglasses. It was humorous because he and I own many of the same exact clothes, apparently have similar taste in women (insert nervous cough here ____), and now have the same eyewear. Man, I guess there is something to that demography stuff, egh?

Next thing I knew, everyone at my party wanted to try on my new specs. (I guess I should mention here that I am very defensive about my horrible vision. In third grade I accidentally looked at the sun with high powered binoculars when trying to look at a visible full moon in the middle of the afternoon. In my elementary science class we were studying the planets, hence my astronomical interests. But while scanning the sky, I briefly bypassed the sun, and literally could not see for three minutes. I'm no Opthamologist, but... It may not be a coincidence that within weeks, I began wearing spectacles. My vision has gotten worse since then, with an especially bad astigmatism. A stigmata?!?)

So, as my friends tried on my specs, each and every one of them made comments about how bad my vision is... Uh, duh! I've already admitted that fact, so do we need to continue? Apparently, they did. Every fucking one. Thanks, guys! Happy fricken birthday to me!

After they finished mocking my impaired sight, somehow they switched over to the topic of my car. My friend Danni started going off about how much she misses my Audi, and how I really made a mistake when I opted to downgrade with the current economy. All of my friends went off about how 'special' they felt when I'd come to pick them up in my Audi A4 Quattro, and how much the heated leather seats spoiled them rotten. My new car has heated leather seats, a Bose six speaker sound system with a six cd changer, an auxilary tuner to synch to my iPhone, etc. But it's not my Audi...

I felt like I was wearing a "kick me" sign. WTF? My 34 birthday party turned into a spontaneous roast. God, no wonder why I'm single. With friends like these...

Birthday Hangover

Don't worry, this isn't me! No intervention needed!

Yesterday was my birthday, and I am still 'feeling' the lingering celebration. One of my best friends in DC was very sweet and took me out to lunch yesterday. After that, I had a small gathering at my house in the evening for cocktails and cake. It was a blast, as the guests stayed til 2am, despite the pouring rain and the fact that my birthday fell on a school night.

Over 60 people wished me a happy birthday on Facebook, dozens of folks texted me their well wishes, and a few handfuls of people called me. I heard from all of these wonderful friends from a millions different facets of my life. It was so unexpected to see that many people want to send me their best wishes for my day. It was incredibly flattering, and I hope it may be catalogued and stored in my databanks the next time I feel particularly lonely and mopey. (It reminds me of that quote from Garrison Keilor: "They say such nice things about you at your funeral, it makes me sad to think that I'll miss mine by just a few days.") Ya, kinda like that. It was pretty sweet...

Speaking of sweets, I haven't really been eating much of them. I've tried to quit sweets altogether, and only eat salads and protein, but then my birthday came around. My mom sent her amazing brownies, and her world famous carrot cake (which got me a girlfriend in college – no fucking joke! Even she wished me a very happy birthday yesterday!) I didn't drink that much, and curbed my sugar cravings pretty well, but forgot that I had an early morning client meeting this morning when seeing my guests out at 2am last night. Fuck! I woke up exhausted and haggared, (but not as badly as this guy in this pic!) and *still* made it to work on time. Phew!

Even more friends called me today, and my downstairs neighbor took me out to dinner as a belated celebration. She's really peppy, and has always been super nice to me me. I think for a while she seemed to imply that I may have been the kind of guy she was interested in dating. (How much more can I dilute that statement???) But it always struck me as ironic that this uber-All American girl may have liked me because I seem to be the perfect boy next door.


















(My belated birthday dinner: the world's largest *pumpkin* pizza... It's actually trick photography, like the Lord of the Rings dudes.)

A few months back she started dating this new guy, who seems pretty cool. Things are working out for her, and the two of them are simultaneously moving out to southern California somewhat randomly. We talked a great deal about where we've been emotionally, and how we're both so curious about where these turns of events might be leading us. She leaves in about a week, and I'm actually kind of sad that she's moving so far away.

The two of us used to hang out a bunch, on what I'd consider "accidental dates." It was perfect in some ways, as we'd talk incessantly about whatever dates we'd gone on with other people, and commiserate about the crap we'd experienced. I feel like I learned a great deal about how to be based on those "unofficial dates," and our running commentaries. I'm scared that I'll lose not only a fun friend who lives in the hood, and is always up for hanging out, but I'll also lose her candid, snarky feedback that was so helpful. I really am happy for her, and wish her the best.

But I got some other big, shocking calls (and texts) over the past two days. One of my good friend's grandmother passed away unexpectedly right after Thanksgiving, and my heart broke for her family. And today another friend called to say that she missed my party because she was hit by a driver in the rain last night while she was stopped at a red light on her Vespa. So insanely scary! A third friend accidentally hit a pedestrian yesterday, who luckily was not seriously injured. And a fourth friend called for my birthday greetings, and then casually mentioned her little sister, (whom I've known for about 18 years), is six months pregnant, and got married in September. What's odd is that I've talked to this friend many times in the past six months. What??? How did we miss talking about that?

With so much happening in the world: more troops being deployed, the health care debate causing such a ruckus, so many people struggling with foreclosures and potential homelessness during this winter holiday season, people losing their loved ones, friends getting into vehicular accidents – I just wish we could have some universal, world-wide moment of silence to stop all the busy-ness, and just be still. It wouldn't necessarily stop the wars, or lessen how much we miss our loved ones, but the fact that we are literally crashing into each other violently from our distractions, some quiet stillness may help us regroup.

Feeling somewhat 'blessed' (and I never use that damn word) to have had so many friends focus on me for even a brief moment, I have *received* all of those good tidings. I guess part of me just naively hopes everyone could feel that same sense of protective insulation, if they could be the focal point of that kind of collective intension. I wish everyone could feel that lucky. (And that the gynormous pumpkin pizza could feed world at the same time!)

Thanks for making me feel like the luckiest boy in the world, pizza or not.

My Birthday...

Today is my birthday. I am 34 today, which seems so odd to me, as I still feel like I am in my early 20's, and look like a teenager. Well, except that my hair is turning gray, thinning, and I have laugh lines that really aren't so funny. But other than that!...

It's a little after 8am here, and I am still sleepy. My dog keeps waking me up between 3-4am to go out, and my cat keeps scratching at my door in the middle of the night if she fears she's running low on food, or just needs attention. Which begs to ask: Why did humans decide to domesticate animals in the first place? And how did I get stuck with a neurotic, aggro pit bull, and a feral, feisty black cat, for bad luck? Awesome! So, ya – a little sleepy today.

I used to have this ridiculous theory as a kid that the kind of weather you had on your birthday reflected the kind of person you were. As I got older, I realized that my theory was based on the kind of weather I witnessed where I am, regardless of where the birthday boy/girl resides. Funny. Apparently I am "overcast" then, if we're going by the immediate standard of weather outside.

All of these people have been asking me what I want for my birthday. As much as I really love giving gifts, I don't get as hung up on receiving gifts. As I always say in my birthday invitations: "No presents, just presence," since people sharing their time with me is the best gift I can receive. (Unless they are cranky assholes, who only go on and on about how shitty their lives are, and then "sharing" becomes unnecessary!)

But between friends asking me what I want for my birthday, and having to come up with suggestions for bday/Xmas presents for my family, I have really been thinking about what I want. I thought it would be good to write them down here, to put them out into the universe and help them materialize. They are as follows:

What I want for my birthday:

1. A beard! (And no, I don't mean a faux wife, for my gay boy ass...)
2. The new iPhone 3GS with video (so, I can be a complete dork and post videos to this here bloggy.)
3. A new operating system for my laptop, to better sync with my hypothetical new iPhone
4. An Audi A5... My favorite new car
   
5. World Peace (yes, I am a materialistic douche bag for putting it 5th on my list)
6. A hair transplant (yes, it's true. sigh~)
7. A new "operating system" for my neurotic, aggro pit bull, so he can permanently be as cute and cuddly as he is with me alone
8. Time and money to go travel around all of the oldest centers of Europe
9. To get three articles published by spring
10. A 10' ladder to seal the leaky skylight in my bedroom, and change the burned out light bulb in a light fixture in the upstairs hallway of my house, that some complete moron affixed over the stairwell, roughly 8' off the ground. WTF?
11. A leaf blower. (Yes, apparently I've become just that bourgeois)
12. Did I mention a beard? (Don't you think I'd look really good with a beard? Waiting for this second puberty to go full steam ahead already...)
13. To fall head over heels in love, and have it work out this time. Yep. Lucky 13...
    

(And maybe have Amy Sedaris personally deliver me cupcakes, while Amy Poehler waves some Happy Birthday banner, while they both sing me some wacky version of "Happy Birthday" to me. Is that too much to ask???)

Obviously, there is nothing that I really need this year. I feel pretty lucky to honestly have most of what I really want in life already. Sure, having a nice, well-groomed, full beard would rock the party, but otherwise, I am really content for the first extended time ever. I feel truly grateful for having such a wonderful network of friends and family that already started sending all of the warmest birthday wishes my way. Thanks everyone, and let's hope the sun breaks for at least a fleeting moment, so I can shake this self-induced reputation of being "overcast" from this birthday weather!

Much love, and many thanks! All the best ~Always, Will

Head in the...clouds?

Have you ever felt like this? (((I like his little toes...))) This is kind of how I feel today. I had a great day, but it was a whirl wind. A small gaggle of my favorite people called me today to check in, which was really great to get caught up finally. I also did several hours of landscaping at my house, in preparation for my big birthday party tomorrow night. I think I've invited about 85 people, so any more than 13 will be a pleasant surprise. Trying to get ready. I've got about 4 simultaneous "to do" lists to ensure I won't forget anything. Inevitably, I will.

Invited friends via email. Check. Invited friends via Facebook. Check. (Which took me far too long to decipher how to set up an event. Man, I'm dum.) Swept front porch and front step, removed like 372 lbs of wet leaves from the front and back yards, repotted and replanted dozens of plants in front garden. Check. Hired my illegal alien - Canadian artist friend to recaulk two of my bathrooms. Check. Um – isn't there supposed some talk about party necessities, like booze and snacks? Ya. Hopefully I'll get around to that.

It was just such a gorgeous day, finally having the sun back after weeks of rain and dreary gray skies. The barometric tension seemed to break just in time for the the metaphorical clouds to part, as well. One of the phone calls I received was from the last person I seriously dated, who lives a time zone away. There had been several months of radio silence between us, so the call was unexpected, to say the least. It was great to get the chance to chat, and hear about each others' lives, as we had been friends for years before we tried to date one another. It was tough to feel like that friendship might have been threatened when our romance fizzled. I was bummed, to say the least.

In many ways, that relationship was one of the most defining moments in my life. It was that connection that made me realize that I wanted to step up and be a productive, successful, balanced adult. I think when I was younger, it was kind of sexy to be the mellow-dramatic fuck up, the bad boy. Then I hit a certain age, and realized that you're just a douche for still carrying on like some narcissistic, anxiously bratty child. Being dumped was the wake up call that I needed to get my shit together, and start living the life that would make me proud to claim as my own.

Being in that relationship made me want to be a better man. I've never truly felt that before. I was ready to raise the bar. I think in the past, I was too invested in trying to run away, or trying to defensively deflect responsibility for the bad choices I was making. But I finally saw myself objectively, and knew instantly that I had to step up and change what was sabotaging my life. I feel really proud of the person that I've worked so hard to become since that break up. And it felt great to be able to acknowledge what I've learned, and be able to put those ghosted flickers of guilt and shame to rest. To be able to hear us both say that we learned so much from each other, that it was significant, and that we've been missed by the other. So unexpected, and just plain nice to hear. No pretense, no defenses, no bullshit. What a great way to lead into my birthday.

Perfect.

And one of my favorite friends from college called, my best friend made her near-daily calls to check in, chatted for a while with an artist friend/client about her upcoming show in NYC later this week. Got home to find a bunch of folks already posting birthday greetings on my Facebook page. To be honest, I was a little nervous that this birthday was going to suck, as they seem to be super fun, or super sucky. Last year's birthday was one of my favorites of all time. Understated, simple, but exactly what I wanted. Brunch with the aforementioned ex ("pre-ex'ing"), spa treatments with one of my best friends in DC, a wonderful "dress up" dinner at the Tabard Inn with my gal-pal, and then a celebration with all of my closest friends at home with my Mom's famous carrot cake. Simply dreamy.

Looking forward to having a low key birthday this year, and having some time to reflect. I'm ready to celebrate with my friends, and letting it be what it is.

Thanks for already making it a good one!