(back to ask max)
Archive for March, 2006
Thursday, March 30th, 2006
Recently I was reacquainted with a person from the past. A few years back the two of us had a great email rapport and seemed to share a similar sense of humor. We went on a few dates but nothing ever really came of it. We tried to meet up last Friday night but it just wasn’t happening. However, on Sunday I get an email asking me how my “date” was Saturday night. My question is should I be concerned? I was on a date Saturday, however I don’t believe this person had anyway of knowing. Nor was it something I was hiding. Why would they ask me? Would they not assume it placed me in an awkward position? Isn’t that peculiar? Also, is it creepy of me to be semi-covert in an effort to unravel this mystery?
Kind & Genuine Guy
Your question is really 17 questions, so we’ll just address the ones that offer the best opportunity for humorous double-entendres. Getting reacquainted with people from the past usually isn’t pleasant, despite what psychics and Shirley Maclaine would have you believe. They mostly just follow you around whining about how outrageous the price of everything has become. Also beware of e-mail rapport, even of the “great” variety. I was playing licky-face back and forth via IM for months with “HotHaunches1295.” Turned out to be a sweaty, 10-year-old bulldog. And it was a *guy* no less. But you have given me two strong clues about the bubbling cauldron of passion between you and your possessive-pain-in-the-ass-in-waiting: “nothing ever really came of it” and “it just wasn’t happening.” Why worry about the reaction of someone who means so little to you? Things aren’t working with her, so you can’t date anyone else? There’s a term for that – marriage. You need to consider the tone – is it possible she was just funnin’? But some say there’s always truth in kidding. In which case, you should tell her it sure beat the hell out of Friday. By the way, when you Ask Max, you abandon all hope of being covert, semi or otherwise. We got more hits than George Michael – and *way* fewer indecency misdemeanors.
How long do you give someone to return a phone call or emails before you stop considering them a friend?
Burned and Unreturned
I think to fully answer your query, we need to define “friend.” You can’t define something as elaborate and complicated as friendship with a single designation. Like an onion, which by the way you should never eat because they taste terrible and are poisonous for canines, a friendship has many layers. In fact, that’s most often why a man makes friends with a woman – to layer. But I think you have to accept people as they are and not as you wish they were. Judging by your nom de plume, I think you are talking about someone at the outer edges of planet friendship — like the *peel* of the onion. You’re not supposed to get all teary-eyed until you hit the deeper layers. But nobody is perfect. You just have to decide if they give you enough joy (or treats) to warrant their sometimes rude habit of not returning a call, or email. Or not playing fetch enough. If it’s not balanced, forget them and move on to the people who *do* give you enough treats to deal with their bad habits. My mom gets annoyed when I sniff around instead of doing my business on cold mornings and she yells at me when I chew through the trash (unfair—finders keepers). But she gives me treats, makes up songs about me, and throws my toys till her arm goes numb. In the end, the good far outweighs the bad. Even though she *never* returns my emails either.
Thursday, March 23rd, 2006
Can Manolo Blahnik be stopped? If I see another pointy-toes shoe this summer, I’m going to flip. I’m tiny with big feet, and those things look like boats. Do you have any words of wisdom?
First of all – sorry about your initials. Might I suggest some penicillin? (And don’t get me started on the Manolo Blahnik worshippers who consider your question blasphemous. Don’t worry…your email address is safe with me. Although, I could be bribed with say a new sock monkey or perhaps a finger-pinch of ham sandwich.) As to your big feet situation, it sounds like some sole-searching is in order here. Just because *you* don’t want to wear pointy-toed shoes, doesn’t mean nobody else should. Shoe Diversity is what makes the world go around. Freedom of choice. If we all wore the same shoes…and if they were all Manolo pumps, well, that would be silly. Especially for the men. So Manolo is too pointy for you. Have you tried Jimmy Chew? Bark Jacobs? Poochie? Chewie Vuitton?
My owner always feeds me cheese – its the Kraft kind that comes in the little wrappers. It’s good and all, but I’ve seen my humans eat what looks like a better cheese- all nicely packaged in brown paper like a Christmas present. How do I get my owner to give me THIS cheese… ??
I hear ya Roxy,
I see *all sorts* of comestibles passing by – in pretty brown wrappers, brightly colored boxes, tins, plastic wrap, foil, on plates, in bowls, in hands… and I end up with the same dust pellets in my bowl every night. I’ve tried everything – whining, begging … Well, mostly whining and begging, but you get the idea. No consideration! Throw a dog a bone once in a while, will ya? I think the zen approach to this is best: seek contentment with the Kraft singles, and whenever the chance arises, get “Krafty”: jump up on counters and tables and pull their pretty brown packages of gourmet cheeses down to where they belong.
Thursday, March 16th, 2006
I have been dating a man for a year, and am ready to take things to the next step: move in and get a dog together. I’m 33, he’s 37. He is stalling and afraid of commitment, while I’m itching for a little house and a Burnese Mtn. mix to call our own. Should I reconsider a past suitor who is a bit older and has made it clear he’s ready for these kinds of long-term commitments, or hang in there and see if Mr. Right Now can come around? And if the latter, for how long?
Dog Clock Ticking
First of all, relax. Forty is the new thirty. So, technically you’re much younger than you are. Second of all, if you’re so ready to throw your boyfriend under the bus for your older ex, who’s obviously an “ex” for a reason—then you probably don’t belong with either of them. Just get the dog. It’s what you really want anyway, and how can I blame you? After all…
A kiss from a gent may be quite continental
but doggies are a girl’s best friend.
A slurp from a pup as he leaps from his kennel
on your smiling face, transports you to another place.
Men grow daft as girls grow soft
and we all lose our charms in the end.
But Shih-Tsus or Airedales
we dogs don’t lose our wagging tails
Doggies are a girl’s best friend
(I don’t mean felines)
But canines are a girl’s … best … friend!
My dog is “dating” a dog that’s not very nice and is ugly, what should I do?
Rufus, Greg, and Hideous Holly
Dear Rufus, Greg, and Hideous Holly,
So, who’s dating whom here? Somebody with a name like Hideous shouldn’t be throwing stones at other people’s glass houses, but then again, beauty is only skin deep. Which is why you might consider one of those fruit-acid peels for this date-dog. Those always sounded so tasty to me. What’s more concerning is the “not very nice,” because beauty fades, but bitchy is forever. When considering a woman or man as a date or mate, humans sometimes say, check the mother and father. So it is with dogs. If you want to make sure: Check the owners. If they also seem mean or unstable…start looking around for a new playmate at the doggie park.
My year old boston Molly has been really touchy about one of her back legs for the past couple of days. She tries not to walk on it and lays on the opposite side when she sleeps. When i take her out and get her running and playing, she uses it just fine. I have rubbed all over it trying to get a feel of where it hurts but she does not seem to respond negatively or act like it hurts. I have a vet appointment in two weeks so she can get her rabies shots. Should I just wait it out until then or should I be more worried. She’s just as energetic, and loving as always just limpy. Please let me know what you think. Thank you so much.
I’m sorry I couldn’t answer earlier, because this is serious business. Since Molly doesn’t seem to be out of commission, you’ll probably be okay waiting until the scheduled appointment, so long as you and she don’t overdo the playing. You see, we dogs aim to please, and we’re instinctual and a little manic. So you throw something, we fetch it, to the point of our tiny hearts exploding. It’s our cross to bear. My money is on a muscle strain or something of that sort – sore but not a single point of trauma, something that might cause tenderness if touched. Get her on the stationary bike for a few miles a day, and she’ll be right as rain.
Thursday, March 9th, 2006
I recently went out with a damsel I met online. Two brief dates, but I didn’t feel she was a good match for me, in spite of being a fine girl. So I told her this, and she suggested that we have sex anyway, while we’re looking for Mr. & Mrs. Right. So, the sex was pretty fun, as most sex is, but I still couldn’t see myself with this girl for a variety of reasons. After two “booty calls” she began to pressure me to tell her my feelings, and to tell her if we have a future together or not. The more truth I told her, the more emboldened she became to convince me otherwise. And so here I am, the recipient of about ten e-mails/text messages/phone calls a day, at all hours, with her entreating me to reconsider. I finally told her to stop contacting me, but she won’t stop. I’ve locked up my rabbit, and stabled my horse, but I fear for myself. This is becoming cyber-stalking, and the girl obviously has no self-esteem, or else she would go on with her life.
Or am I just that good in bed?
Not to say “I told you so” – because you didn’t ask me in advance of sleeping with her, so I never had the chance – but entangling limbs often leads to other kinds of entanglements. So, you’re surprised that someone surmised from a little harmless intercourse that you might want to also insert yourself into her life? What makes it worse is that it wasn’t enough for the two of you to engage in a little no-strings-attached slip ’n slide – you immediately go kinky, rushing out to find another couple to play along. (Mr. & Mrs. Right? Seems to me you’d have had better odds by not limiting yourselves to just one last name.) Enough of my scolding: yours was a common and fairly innocent mistake, made every day by the horny and boozed-up. And like this fine girl (not fine enough apparently), a lot of people seem perfectly normal … until they reveal themselves to be perfectly abnormal. That’s why the neighbor always tells the eyewitness news reporter, “He was quiet, seemed like a nice guy, until, ya know, the whole cannibalism thing.” Now, your only choice is to marry her.
Just kidding. I always wanted to do that. These cases always strike me as sad. You’re right: it has nothing to do with you, really. You’re merely the current object of her insecurities. She needs to be happy with herself before she can be happy with anyone else, but the little idiot inside her is grasping at an outside solution: “If only Chaz! Must … get … CHAZ!” No comment on your prowess on the mattress – but she needs to get in touch with her own demons. (Let her drive *them* nuts for a while.) Block her addresses and don’t take her calls. She’ll either fade away or attack you on the street with a machete, and either way, you’ll get closure.
I need to know why I am always barking all the time at trucks and every little noise? I AM A BORDER COLLIE CHOW BREED, does that have something to do with my barking?
Trina Ruff Ruff
The ALL-CAPS section of your question just about ALL-CAPTURES it: you’re a border collie-chow breed? You’re the “perfect storm” of canine control freaks. Your inner border collie wants to herd everything it sees and bring order to the seemingly unruly world around you, while your inner chow is bursting with instinct to corral, protect, and generally flip out if someone looks at you cross-eyed. But barking is the double-edged sword of dog behavior. We do it, they tell us, “Quiet!” We *don’t* do it, they say, “Some watch dog you are!” We can’t win for losin’. I’d only recommend getting a little self control, because a friend of mine had a barking issue – then his parents got him a new collar, and now barking makes his neck tingle. Weird. Your case brings to mind some other curious breeds and their peculiarities – like the St. Bernard-Chihuahu mix, or St. Behuahua. Constantly chilly, but carries its own warm-up. There’s a growing fan base for the Chocolate Lab-Maltese mix – the Chocolate Malt. The Lhasa Apso-Malamute, or Apsomutely, has some unswayable adherents. And everyone loves the Lhasa-Doberman combo – Lhasa Do. Sometimes it’s a gender thing: many women favor the Mastiff-Cockapoo mix, while men have a known aversion to the Cocker Spaniel-Maltese blend.
Thursday, March 2nd, 2006
Do you think we really landed on the moon? Or do you think it was all falsified using video equipment to win a political battle called the “space race”? Also, how come no other countries have gone to the moon? Don’t you think by now other countries would have wanted to explore the moon? And how come we haven’t gone back in over 30 years? It seems that all other historical events where people did great things(Columbus coming to America, Sir Edmond Hillary reaching the top of Everest, the 4 minute mile) many others followed soon there after. I just find it strange, in a age when I have more technology in the laptop I type this on than all of NASA had in 1969 that more people haven’t gone back. Thanks! Your curious, long tongued pug dude friend…
Yogi the Pug
The moon has occupied our imaginations and the passing car windows of many a high school junior’s dad’s Cutlass Supreme since time immemorial. So it’s natural for you to want to preserve it in your mind, pristine, immaculate, unsullied, virginal, without a date, sitting home Saturday nights in an exfoliating mask eating Chunky Monkey out of a pint container while watching “Ab Fab” reruns on Oxygen. I do believe we landed on the moon, because it bears the hallmark of every great accomplishment in history: we quickly got bored with it. Just three and a half years after Apollo Creed landed Stretch Armstrong on the lunar surface, we were over it, and to everybody else, it was like the hot night club – from three and a half years ago. (Nobody goes there anymore but tourists.) Speaking of which, my neighbor allegedly put a deposit down in the 70s for a seat on the first civilian flight to the moon, and I’ll bet she’s wishing she’d bought a small cap mutual fund. As for your laptop, the space program should get a large chunk of credit for its tiny, mighty brain. But most people are too busy blogging, googling, and surfing porn to plan moon shots with them these days. Pity. I could use the cheese.
Why is it, that people who claim to LOVE their dogs feed them the exact same dry, boring food every flipping day? Do they then, quid pro quo, not love themselves because they force themselves to exercise free will and eat a wildly varied diet? I say, if your owner doesn’t feed you a different course at every meal, they hate themselves. Right?
I’d be better qualified to respond to this if I actually tasted food on the way down. Truth is, I’ve consumed a wildly varied diet of food, apparel, hardware, household and health & beauty items in my day, reasoning that if my neck’s throat can handle it, my posterior’s throat shouldn’t have any problem. (An assumption that proved incorrect, apparently, for an acquaintance of mine who ate a sock and needed 1,200 bucks worth of surgery. Now that’s a test of your love for your dog!) But you’re guilty of a common logical fallacy. To wit: “if A (loving someone) then B (feeding the same thing every day)” does not imply “if not B (not feeding the same thing every day) then not A (not loving someone).” Correcting this understandable and eminently excusable error is a simple matter of overnighting me a wildly varied diet each day for several months and seeing if you still love me. Put “Perishable” on the box so the doorman knows not to dilly-dally.