Chihuahua dog breed | dog owner hotttpocket

Chihuahua dog breed dog owner hotttpocket

I performed last night. I think it went okay--but, I could be wrong.

Thanks Scott, for taking the video with your sweet iPhone.  You rule!

I wish I was a hilarious as these guys, they're absolutely THE BEST PODCAST EVER!

This is a video from their website, "Irreligiosophy". It rules, subscribe (FOR FREE!) on iTunes. They're the antidote to Glen Beck's poison! Here's the video. (warning: for adults. If you're offended by colorful language, fuck off, this video isn't for you. You are a fucking child--this video's for grownups.)

Part two of Cranky Maurice video.

For those of you who had to know, "Does he finally get out of bed or not?"

Maurice is cranky in the morning!

Turn down the volume unless you want to be annoyed by my loud, grating voice as I try to cajole Maurice out of bed one morning.  Other than that, I thought this video was cute. 




Yes, that is his tongue hanging out to the side.  What can I say, he doesn't like to floss. That's what happens to dogs who can't get dental implants when their tooth falls out.

He's only pretty.

This guy came up to me the other night and introduced himself.  "My name is Chris. (beat) I'm a Virgo." (Chris is not his name. It's not even close to his name. It's a made up name.  Why? Because, I don't want to give him the satisfaction of using his name.  I could be talking about someone else, some other douche bag i met recently, who's name is Chris.)  The fact that I allowed the conversation to go on past that point is my own fault.  I had the information I needed to know right there.

But, I foolishly permitted myself to flirt with and be flirted with and, at the end of the night (for me, anyway), when he walked me to my car I asked for his email, which he gave to me.

Here's the email I sent to him, a day and a half later:

This is Esme, from Friday night.  I hope this email doesn't frighten/alarm you in its "soonness."  If it does, you are easily frightened and alarmed. That must suck. ...Anyway, perfunctory (and snide, bonus!) repartee aside,  To be totally honest, I would have written you that night, or yesterday morning when I got up (6 am approx) but I felt that my borderline stalkerish behavior on Friday night needed a 24 "cooling off period," time enough to (I hope) fade from your memory/soften the creepy edges.

I'm writing you today to acheive the following objectives:

1.  To dazzle you with my ability to recall a 5 character email address (okay, 8 characters, counting the domain...I share this skill with many chimps, bonobos and even a few of nerdy capuchins documented in various cognitive reseach studies published quarterly... Yay me!)

2. To thank you for the gift that is "Electric Six."  I honestly believe my life has been instantly and immeasurably enriched now that their music is in my iTunes library. The song Danger! High Voltage! is ridiculous, mad, crazy awesome.  If I was a Japanese ad exec, my ad copy for their new campaign would go something like this:

Electric Six is SUPER-HAPPY-FRESH-EXTRA-SPARKLE-PRETTY-SMILE-ULTRA-BONUS!!

3. MOST IMPORTANT THING! To give you your mix cd  .I'm not sure what you'll think of it. Of course, I hope you like it heaps and heaps.  I certainly won't be unduly hurt you do not.  I tried, I failed, it's all good!  Oh, and please, let me know if it doesn't work--if your iTunes doesn't open and a playlist of music isn't created for you to listen to (but not copy or edit) on your computer.  That would be bad.


Here's the link.

untitled playlist 6.m3u (file://ESME-PC/Users/Public/Music/untitled%20playlist%206.m3u)


Final Note:  My phone number is ________.  Each hour that you postpone dialing this number is, for me, an eternity.  But, like, no pressure or anything.
Rawr!

Okay, so, that's the email I sent--five days ago--complete with a "virtual" mix cd!  And what was his response?  Uh, (shocker!) not a peep. Absolute, total radio silence. I mean, that's the ultimate humiliation in the annals of unrequited love. I have been rejected, categorically.  So, gentlemen, it does happen to girls.  And not just fugly, snaggle-toothed fat chicks--but girls like me. (Not that I'm that  hot or anything.  Even though, last night, a guy told me specifically that very thing.  But, he'd just seen me doing a stand up set (I didn't kill, but I got some laughs) and he could have been suffering from "groupie googles.")

I should stop going to bars. After all, I'm over the age of 30...  Okay, that's not going to happen. I should just trust my gag reflex when a guy triggers it within 7 seconds of meeting him.