Wanted: Trapper Keeper

While Spuds was picking up deals on summer party favors at the dollar store (you know you love those little umbrellas), he witnessed the first of many Back-to-School shopping scenarios to come. Armed with checklists, children ran rampant through the aisles searching for erasable pens, fresh composition notebooks, and just the right pencil case to reflect their individuality. Meanwhile their mother's, helplessly sidelined, debated the side effects of sniffing glue. Ahhhhh, to be young again.

Spuds remembers those obedience school days like they were yesterday. This inspired him to go home and dig his most prized grade school possession out of his doggy house. Buried beneath stellar report cards praising his interpersonal skills and his prom date's corsage; he found it. THE organizational tool to beat all organizational tools: the Trapper Keeper. 

Move over, Google Calendar, Microsoft Outlook, Lotus Notes, and iCan't-Run-My-Life-Without-You. Spuds is busting out the big guns. Get ready for some mind blowing productivity.

Woof, woof.

Puppy Makin' Tune

Spuds thinks Da Brat and Tyrese have a pretty good idea what a beach party should look like. He also thinks  that Da Brat's sass is just plain inspirational. She'd probably make a really great middle manager, with her excellent communication skills and abilities to clearly outline agendas. Yeah, he likes dat.

Woof, woof.

Pass the Lyonnaise, Please

Go ahead, blame it on the Moet that was sipped by the bonfire last night. Spuds can't seem to stop talking about his favorite EU country. Last night he wooed us with tales of Paris, but, it's a different French metropolis that Spuds gives the upper paw.

Smacked in between Beaujolais to the North, and the Côtes du Rhône to the South, Spuds prefer to sip his fine wines in Lyon. He also would like to share that Lyon is the probably the world's epicenter for:"I Spy: GARGOYLE EDITION". Seriously, it's a little creepy. They're everywhere And why do they always gots to look so scary?

But don't even worry about those scary gargoyles. The miles of skateboarding paths, fresh sneaker boutiques, open-air farmer's markets filled with seasonal delights, street vending machines stacked with jimmy caps, and the endless gastronomic pleasures make Lyon the laid-back hedonists choice.

But don't take it from Spuds, he learned most of what he knows from this guy:

Woof, pardon, woof.

2am in Paris

With all this talk of the Maillot Jaune amongst the bicycle gang, Spuds has been sharing some of his favorite memories of his travels in France. This evening he wooed us with tales of his second favorite French city. That's right, we said it: second favorite. Don't even worry about that.

'Twas nearly a year ago that Spuds found himself cantering through the streets of Paris's Latin Quarter at approximately 2 in the morning. In case you're not as well versed on the Parisian hoods as Spuds, after the Sorbonne-faring bichons are laid to rest, the seedy chihuahuas of the Left Bank emerge. You know the types, the ones who were never taught not to beg. This is the section the tour books warn you to stay away from. It must have been a combination of jet lag, the hypnotic blinking of the Eiffel Tower's glimmering lights, and one too many fig and brie baguettes that stifled Spuds's sense of direction. At that moment, he found himself in the underbelly of the world's most romantic city.

On the verge of his first anxiety attack since his life changing assault charge, Spuds closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Who knew one sniff could change it all? His olfactory receptors tingled with pleasure and flooded him with comfort as he took in the familiar scent of ground corn. What did the streets of Paris smell like at that moment? You guessed it: tacos. 

Spuds was then taken on a mind trip that when retold was slightly awe-inducing, but mostly frightening. His journey concluded with the realization that sometimes the B.T.M.E (best travelling moments ever) are those that evoke a quiet nostalgia for home and remind you to love the life you live, man.

Damn, Spuds is good.

There is an ongoing debate whether Paris is best in the rain, or the evening, or when tripping on expired Alpo. But in Spuds's mind, Paris is best at 2am in a dark alley along the Left Bank with the scent of chorizo and carnitas wafting down the rue. And that is truly a testament to just how unique and enchanting "La Ville-Lumiere" really is.

Excuse moi, woof.

Update: Grizzly Attack

For those with a memory that hasn't been compromised by an excess of song lyrics and/or recreational neurotoxic substances, you may remember Spuds sharing an excellent warranty letter sent by one of his bicycle gang members.

Apparently, Spuds wasn't the only one to appreciate the genius behind the argument; as displayed in the below response.

Sometimes things are just so right.

Woof, woof.

Puppy Makin' Tune

While attending a local polo club's annual Midsummer Night's Social, Spuds serenaded a particularly well kept Jack Russell with this tune. Spuds would like to remind everyone to never judge a pooch by his or her pedigree--sometimes even the most seemingly clean cut breed can bust some freakishly impressive moves on the dance floor.

Adina was onto something here. Isn't it all about the dog in all of us?

Yeah dat's what I thought, good puppy.

Woof, woof.

Don't Mention It

Spuds has been hiding in his doghouse after this picture emerged following a quick stopover in Taiwan. Apparently, for a fleeting moment Spuds decided to turn in his single speed tricycle for a Harley. 

Not all good ideas turn out to be good ideas. 'Nuff said. 

Woof, woof.

Puppy Makin' Tune

Spuds chose this week's slow jam after hearing a particularly moving acoustic rendition. It was a prime SJ backdrop: a sunset cruise along his favorite barrier islands inter-coastal while sipping his puppy pack's signature drink and counting the dolphins surfacing around his yacht. Spuds silently thanked T-boz, Lisa Left Eye, and Chili for crafting such a lyrical masterpiece.

You might need to read that paragraph a few times to appreciate how majestic the life of Spuds Mackenzie is.

Woof, woof.

Spuds's Book Club

Something Spuds knows about is culture; art, leisure, sport, international lovers, and high literature.  Today on a plane, Spuds characteristically produced a neon-jacketed book and felt perfectly at home amongst a plane full of Chow-Chows and Pekingnese.  Why the insatiable appetite for literature? The transandental power of rock and roll biographies, of course!  They have expanded upon the solemn into a more holistic and radical appreciation Spuds gots for musical artistes.  Except for Slash's bio, that changed things.  Anthony Kiedis, Perry Farrel, and a few other jokers' lyrics and gyrations now hold an even higher form of meaning, since Spuds gots that blow-by-blow on the seductions, OD-s, and other stuff too. 

Not every pup has developed this cultured sniffer for refinement and pleasure, just like not everyone knows how to subtly rock a neon bandana.

 Ahem, woof.