Wanted: Shark Sweatshirt

Because we all know that autumn is the season of pumpkins, apple pies, camp fires, and crew neck sweatshirts with spooky fish graphics.

Woof, woof.

Fall Back...INTO ACTION!

As the tick tock of the clock momentarily stopped for an hour to let the US of A align itself with the rest of the world, Spuds snapped out of his post-summer mourning period with a new found spring in his step.

He spent the day zipping around the island of Manhattan with his hot pink skate board and favorite flannel button up; snatching cupcakes from the hands of innocent tourists, licking off the icing, and giving them back the sub-par, bare naked cup of cake before they even realized what had hit them. How's that for a Sunday agenda.

He's currently passed out on the penthouse terrace thanks to the genius combination of icing, agave spiked hot toddies, and expense reports. (Because, yes, even the most ballin' bull terriers have to organize receipts.)

He just may have barked hard enough to have temporarily lost his woof. No worries, he'll jedi mind trick that sh*t until he's reclaimed his full-on puppy health.

Woof, woof.

Puppy Makin' Tune

Yo, listen up. With seven more dog years under his belt; this week's slow jam is dedicated to Spud's own puppy years. Conjuring memories of rollerblading on driveways (Spuds is all about that smooth pavement. Don't even think about rollin' on uneven gravel), this EnVogue tune always sets the mood right with just the right amount of sass and spunk.

SPUDS MAY BE YOUNG, BUT HE CAN DO THINGS!

IN APPROXIMATELY THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MINUTES SPUDS WAS BIRTHED INTO THE WORLD BY ONE AWESOME B!TCH.  THIS PUPPY AXE-KICKED ITS WAY OUT OF THE WOM(B)AN AND DELIVERED PURE JOY, BEST FRIEND LOVE, AND MOTIVATION TO ACCOMPLISH THINGS TO EVERYONE AS SOON AS THEY SAW THE WAG OF THE INCIPIENT TALE. YEAH.  THAT’S RIGHT, IT IS SPUDS’S HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY!  

DOGPACKS AND POUND PUPPIES AROUND EL MUNDO BE CELEBRATING!  SOME PARTICULARLY CLEVER CHARACTERS EVEN TRIED TO INSTITUTIONALIZE SPECIALNESS OF 12 AUGUST BY ASSEMBLING THE BELOW OUT OF CHEAP CARNATIONS AND GREEN DOINGER FLOWERS (GOOD EFFORT, BUT THE EARS ARE DEFINITELY OFF).

FYI PROPER GIFTS FOR SPUDS INCLUDE BICYCLE GANG PROTOTYPES, HEIRLOOM TACO RECIPES, AND LOTS OF STUFF DONE IN THE STYLE OF DAWGIE.

PUT A PROPER TOWEL OVER YOUR FOREPAW AND POP THE USD 14 ASTI, TIME TO PARTY LIKE AN ANIMAL!

Wanted: Pizza Party Crewneck

This just may be the ultimate sweatshirt:

If found, please ship to Spuds. He takes a size grande thanks to his barrel chest (not only does this make him even more huggable--it ups his lung capacity resulting in increased endurance in all of his athletic endeavors.)

Spuds can think of few better uniforms to wear to a pizza shaping party. Spuds would like to remind you that stepping outside of the constructs of a circular pie lends an excellent venue for a bit of doughy self-expression. So pass the pupperoni, turn on some Beck and Pharrel mash-ups, and get rolling.

Woof, woof.

Burn Bras, Not Books

YO, YO! Spuds has got something to say (and yeeeahhh, he wishes he ate fried chicken today, get it?! like a joke on the misfits song?! Spuds always keeps it positive except when it comes to STD tests, fyi). Yeah, what he has to say, with a certain air of authority and know-how that only he can project, is that standardized tests stifle his creative puppy power. What the woof?! 


Spuds prides himself on being a renegade within the constraints of certain institutions, universities in particular, because that's where the Magic Johnson happens. One time, while leading a pack of potential students through Greenwich Village, Jared Leto (nee Jordan Catalano from the bang-on e90s MTV sitcom, "My So Called Life") interrupted Spuds's tour and advised puppies in their formative years to "burn their books." Spuds, always equipped with some broader context, reminded students that Jordan couldn't read so his implicit assumptions, vague definitions, and lack of supporting evidence rendered his claim merely a dubious opinion. (Which later proved to be a spot-on observation as clearly demonstrated by the embarrassing pseudo-intellectual attempts to stimulate brain waves with sub-par lyrics and riffs in  the so-called band "30 Seconds to Mars".)  Ahhh, but Spuds was indeed mesmorized by those piercing blue eyes and dark hair, like a blue eyed Kipper (or whatever those attractive, yet annoyingly loud little canines are called). 


Anyway, Spuds went on to receive university-level recognition for his shin-high vantage on stuff, and he vomited after eating some grass out front on the notion that those tests dissuaded him from realizing what a cunning dawg he was. And, perhaps the most important realization of them all and the real point he is trying it express, is that in order to appreciate the full repetiore of his joke power, all mating partners gots to appreciate the degree. (And that's regardless of pedigree, so put away those AKC papers.) 



Paw slap for pedantry.


Woof, woof.

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.

Pigeon Police

Somewhere between a deep tissue massage for his tight puppy hips (he's been wagging his tail a little too hard ever since the weather warmed up) and indulging in his favorite probiotic packed frozen yogurt; Spuds found himself wandering through a particularly quaint city park. Surrounded by the sweet scent of lilacs and cotton candy with just the right amount of homeless earthiness, Spuds took a moment to enjoy his temporary retreat from the bustle of urban life. However, temporary it was thanks to a flock of pigeons that flapped dangerously close to his snout. 

If there's one type of aviary creature that Spuds could rid from the planet, it would be the urban pigeon. Sorry pigeons--he just ain't down with you. 

Just when Spuds was about to start barking, a young man came to his assistance. "Put up your hands or I'll shoot  you, Pigeon! This is the Pigeon Police!"

Although this boy was only armed with the his imagination, the fervency that he demanded that these pigeons listen to his authority was frightening. The mass quickly departed to a far-off block. 

While we all can't take the time to attend Pigeon Police Academy this summer, Spuds will most definitely be adding this to his list of objectives.

Woof, woof.

Puppy Makin' Tunes

After playing this on repeat for the entire summer solstice while artfully sculpting Wu-Tang shaped pizza pies and narrating his skills to a captive audience in his best Beck-inspired falsetto; Spuds finally revealed the master behind this mash-up. It is with the greatest of pleasure that we step to you with this fresh pack of gum.

 

Woof to the GoDz....

Flavor of the Week

There are few things Spuds appreciates more than a scoop or two of ice cream in his doggy bowl. He doesn't limit himself to chocolate or vanilla, no, this pooch's palate appreciates a variety of flavors. Lavendar Honey Swirl, Madagascar Vanilla with Course Sea Salt, Mexican Chocolate with Ancho Chilies--you know, gourmet stuff like that.

Spuds seeks out ice cream with the diligence of a truffle pig looking for shrooms. He's just that serious about it. While passing through a rest stop on his last road trip, he stopped at a colorful local ice cream parlor. It was here that he found the most unique flavor of the week to date: Crumbs Along the Mohawk.

He found this name only slightly less confusing than his ex-girflriends Swayze hair. But he doesn't worry about stuff like that--he just went big and dove in.

Grab a bowl, ditch your spoon, and lick away--Spuds style. 

Woof, woof. 

Mountain Dog

Spuds has recently returned from an epic journey to the Adirondack Mountains.

He retreated to upstate New York after forcing himself to walk away from one of his favorite girlfriends. Spuds is a pretty strong communicator and is open to working through issues in relationships, however, when his SO's hair started to look alarmingly similar to Patrick Swayze's character Bodhi (from Point Break), he had to pull the plug.

Sure, Bodhi was a looker with an inspiring take on life; however, his girl's locks were conjuring images of Spuds' totally radical hero during some pretty blush worthy moments--and Spuds just thought that was confusing. Long story short, he regretfully had to step away.

He fled to the mountains to lick his wounds and it was there that he partook in a plethora of soul feeding activities: paddling across lakes after dark, bounding up mountains and enjoying peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the summit, running beaver damns in canoes, screaming down scenic descents on his skateboard, and licking maple syrup off his paws after indulging in bountiful brunch buffets; to name a few.

After a week of catharsis,  fresh air, and successive best day ever's; he's ready for the next bitch. (And yes, we mean that in the proper biological sense of the word. Spuds just isn't down with misogynistic language. RESPECT.)

Woof, woof.

Oh Snap!

Recently, Spuds was tossing some disses back and forth with a pal and popped the ultimate question:

"I know you are, but what am I?"

Go ahead, try it. Spuds promises this throwback will brighten your day and leave your verbal sparring partner disarmed (and possibly alarmed).

Woof, woof.