Pirate Dog PDX

Donde Esta the Pirate Dogs?

We're here, Pirate Dog fans. Do you see us? Over here, just behind Waldo holding up our giant toothbrush behind the British flag. (Waldo's subliminal suggestion that perhaps our colonial parents might invest in a little dental care? Perhaps.)

Actually, we're here. On the couch. Writing for money. Not writing for pleasure, in other words, right this second, we're not writing for you.

Though I've committed to the Blog 365 gods that I would post every day, I need a little time to write for moolah ... must keep Mr. Suave swimming in his solid gold bowl filled with kibble.

Therefore, to keep my lovely bloggy pals from wondering if I'll ever post again, I'd like to re-commit. At least once a week, by Sunday night, I'll have posted for the week. Sometimes more than one post ... sometimes I might post every day.

Does that work?

Upcoming episodes should be exciting: I've got an eight-week business trip to Santa Cruz coming up, infused with romantic dinners avec the Handsome David, politics with Uncle Charlie, sojourns with my adorable sister and her family, and an ass-kicking opportunity to drink wine in Pebble Beach with the fabulous and talented wine executive VA. All of our favorite characters will be there ... Little Buddy, Lynn and other EDs we love  ... Wendy the County Fair Freak ... the whole lot.

On the way home, we'll zip through Reno and visit our country cousins. Sideburns, belt buckles, and photos will abound.

So, please stay tuned. It should be fun.

xoxo, Shawanda and Rico

The Hills are Alive, With the Sound of Bloggers

The year I was born, The Sound of Music won the Academy Award for Best Picture. A movie bursting at the seams with Nazis, Mary Poppins in the lead role, and songs we're all still singing--it was iconic and big budget.

Last night, young and talented Diablo Cody won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay for Juno. How did Cody build her writing reputation?  Blogging.

When did Cody get started?  Gosh ... last month ... last year ... last night, when I got up to get a Dove bar during a commercial break? She's barely 30 years old, for cripes sake.

She wasn't even born when The Sound of Music first appeared on television. When Cody was interviewed about how long it took her to write the screenplay, she said, "About three weeks. It's only a 90 minute movie." As you might have guessed, she's super bright. A graduate of the University of Iowa, my development writer pal Jen, who writes for UI, is probably, as we speak, writing a profile to toot the Diablo Cody horn to donors-a-plenty. I would.

Cody is my kind of pirate. Crazy. Funny. Smart. For example: "Diablo Cody" is not her birth name. She was born Brooke Busey. A former stripper, Cody also has stripper names that include "Bonbon," "Roxanne," and "Cherish."

For the record, my stripper name is "Trixie." Theoretically. I chose it years ago, just to be ready. I would have actually changed it to Sara Sasse, if I didn't think I'd get sued for it.

Though I haven't ever stripped, when my family went to Salzberg 20 years ago, I did The Sound of Music's "Sixteen going on Seventeen" dance in the actual gazebo that Liesl danced with a pre-Nazi Rolfe. Not naked, though. And, I was dancing with my mom. So, it's probably not the same thing.

Cody also worked as a phone sex operator. (Thank you god for allowing me to write thank you notes for a living.) Ultimately, Cody quit the sex industry and got married. They moved to what she refers to as "the 'burbs, where no one strips unless they're taking a bubble bath." Thus was born, her blog.

When asked how writing compares to stripping, Cody said this: "Stripping toughened my hide, but exposing myself as a writer has been a lot more brutal."  And, she doesn't rule out leaving the brutality of writing for a simpler life: "If this whole writing thing doesn't work out, I'll be getting right back on the pole."

I believe Julie Andrews said the same thing about acting. (She didn't really. But, boy, it would have tied this whole post up with a nice little bow if she had.)

Let's assume that an Academy Award means that the "whole writing thing" is working out for Cody. God bless writers. We're freaks. Today, the hills are alive with the sound of Cody.

Creme de la Meme

You know those email chain letter emails that ask you to fill in the blank: favorite movie, color you're wearing RIGHT NOW, food currently working its way through your intestinal tract, etc? Pass it on.

I hate those. I am especially not into the ones that end that not only request that you sully your friends, but demand that you prove you love the sender, by sending your answers back to them. Aaaarrrrgggghhhh, the pressure! I love you! Don't make me prove it by filling out a form that asks me to reveal my favorite movie quote.

Except that, because I do love you all, I'll tell you that my favorie movie quote is a tie between The Godfather's "Leave the gun; take the canoli," and any line from Young Frankenstein, like, oh, say, "Tafetta, darling" or "Could be worse. Could be raining" or "Abby Someone" or ... good gawd, I love that movie. It's surprising how often those quotes were appropriate when I was a waiter.

Anyhoo. Among my loved ones is Rekabek. She recently tapped me in the blog version of a chain letter, known as a meme. She, in turn, was tapped by Palinode. The challenge is this:
   1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
   2. Open the book to page 123.
   3. Find the fifth sentence.
   4. Post the next three sentences.
   5. Tag five people.

Shit. Rekabek clearly doesn't have an emotional investment in whether we post or not, since she also tapped Pierre who is currently pretending not to have a blog. Yes. Dude. We see you.

But, here's the surprising bit. Both Palinode and Rekabek's closest books are smartie pants books.  Palinode is reading Douglas R. Hofstadter's Gödel, Escher, Bach, a "crazy 1979 "metaphorical fugue on minds and machines in the spirit of Lewis Carroll." Rekabek is reading Anais Nin's Delta of Venus--lyrical and naughty.

I'm less brainy. I like travel books. The closest book to me right now (Portland Hill Walks) rendered a page 123 with only three sentences, so I'm using them:

"Before returning to your car, you may want to check out the Contemporary Crafts Gallery at 3934 SW Corbett, two blocks north of Lowell. It was founded in 1937 by a group of women whose mission was to foster an appreciation for fine craftsmanship while providing a market for artists. The atmosphere is mellow, and the art and crafts, in both permanent and changing exhibits, are superb. Most items, except in the permanent exhibits, are for sale."

Okay, Herb, BIAZ Bonnie, Wendy, and Innkeeper ... tap,tap. Get on with it. Prove your love. Peter, I'm tapping you too, because you clearly must be shamed into getting your art out there.

100

When old folks reach the century mark, Willard Scott and Smuckers make a big, fat fuss.

On the wall, 100 bottles of beer makes for a long freaking song, and the beginning of a road trip (that will never, ever end) with teenagers.

100 is almost enough Dalmatians to make a movie about. (Three movies, in fact.)

100 is significant like that.

I only mention the weightiness of 100 because yesterday's post was my 100th on the Pirate Dog PDX blog, and I'm feeling landmarky. In that time, I've acquired piratedogs.org and regularly receive over 100 visits a day. It's hardly fame, and it's clearly not fortune, but it's closer to fame and fortune than I was 100 posts ago when I had only written other people's stories. From philanthropic tax advice to motivating prose about global warming, women's health, preserving history, educating the masses, and pet adoption-- prior to my 100 posts, I'd written reams that have nothing to do with what Rico and I think about the world.

And, we've got some opinions. Particularly Rico. As you know, he has feelings about puppies, the French, and though we disagree on this point, musical theater. "Blech," says my otherwise super-gay dog.

As we head into our second hundred posts, I'd like to start a "best of" page to highlight the best posts. I know there are days I've phoned it in. But, I find that the days I think are yawneroos aren't necessarily the same ones you don't love. I never, ever would have guessed that my Lawrence Welk post would have been so popular, but it would appear that there are quite a few lurky Welkies out there.

Bottom line, I'd like to provide one-stop-shopping for those folks who might like to see my shiniest writing samples, without the less brilliant moments. ("All killer. No filler." As my friend Tim likes to say.) Any favorite posts you'd recommend? Feel free to comment on this post or email me your thoughts.

After that, I'd like to give Pirate Dogs some "meat." (It's Shark Week on Discovery Channel. I'm feeling predatory.) Mom, Bonnie, Patty, LB, VA, and some of my Blog 365 pals have pirate dogs, as well. Maybe I'll use the site to provide pirate dog highlights from across the country: Pirate dog profiles and interviews by Rico would keep him out of trouble.

Maybe Pirate Dogs could showcase dog-friendly travel. That would allow me to travel even more with my dog, and I suspect, write it off on my taxes --ooh, and, pitch shamelessly for doggie travel schwag. Rico and I are going to spend a month in Santa Fe in the Fall. Starting with Portland and Santa Fe, the Pirate Dogs site could feature cool dog-travel books, accoutrement, hotels, parks, restaurants, events, health concerns when traveling internationally with your dog, and other cool sites we love. There are dog sites a-plenty out there, but I have yet to find one that's an actual "community." I'd like to provide that.

Finally, gawd, I hate to say it, but since Pirate Dogs is a "dot org," we could probably save a gay black pirate dog for Jesus (or two) with the site. Animal welfare is like the charitable mafia; you can check out of nonprofit work, but you can never leave. Or is animal welfare the charitable Hotel California? Either way, it would be a painless way to stay connected with animal welfare without having to smell like "Chill Room" EVER again.

If I do choose to use the site to support animal charities, I'll likely just link to my favorite animal nonprofits, with no opinion forum. I don't wanna get into whether Ellen DeGeneres is a mutt-saving saint or a spoiled celebrity who considers herself above the rules and used her considerable media time to ruin a group of volunteers doing their flawed best ... so, don't get me started, please. Animal wackos always want to talk about why they're right. Including me. Let's not.

I'm stalker bait as it is.

So, here we are, now at 101. Bonnie and Herb are patting my bloggy head over this baby landmark, with their gazillions of posts and years of experience behind them.  There's much more to come. We've got to get our blog on every day this year.

Keep your ideas a-comin'.

Hello Berkeley! Hey Belize! I can see your ISPs!

Actually, there are no ISPs from Belize visiting the Pirate Dog's blog. Unfortunately.

But, maybe with Belize in the  title of a Pirate Dog post, someone FROM Belize will Google "Belize" + "chihuahua poets," and find us. Then, Rico and I will have a cool, new pen pal who offers her beach front home for the first annual "Pirate Dog Belize" conference. It could happen. Someone from Oklahoma City googled "Nyquil" + "Redbull" + "vodka" and found us. I suspect the "Pirate Dog Oklahoma City" Conference may not be appropriate for all pirate dogs.

I'll keep you posted on my quest for Belize, though.

Actually, I wrote that title for this reason: Recently, I acquired statcounter.com, a free service that shows me who Pirate Dog's lurky little pals are, you know, beside those of you I'm lurking back ... and/or related to ... and/or just plain love. Hi Mom. Dad. David. Annie. Uncle Charlie (at both his SC and Berkeley estates). LB. VA. Herb. Mara. JWo. Atlanta-person (Google Search: "Willamette" + "Dammit"). I can seeeeee you.

I just wrote "Belize" because "Tucson Medical Center" doesn't rhyme with "ISPs." Plus, it plays havoc with my iambic pentameter.

See, though none of my well-intended lurkers works for Tucson Medical Center, in two days, I've had more visits from that corporate entity than from my entire family-o-freaks combined. Hm. Shouldn't you be working down there, finding a cure for turquoise poisoning or something?

Now. If you're lurky and friendly, I sure would like it if you'd follow rebel-Herb's lead and comment now and again. LB, VA, JWo, I appreciate that you, too, have dipped your collective toes in the comment pool.

I know you got it in ya. My sweet daddy sent all manner of helpful Lawrence Welk websites to my email address yesterday, in response to my post. I can use his research and all new fun facts in chapter two of my Lawrence Welk saga: "Revenge of the Champagne Ladies." I'll bet you all would have enjoyed having that resource made available to you, too. That's the beauty of a blog. It's the sharing.

Of course, I want you to visit--even if you don't want to comment. However. As I have committed to posting regularly, I cannot allow poor Herb to bear the burden of entertaining me alone. He's got his own hungry, yet hilarious blogbeast to feed.

Tucson, please stop.

The rest of you, throw a bone to your writergirl and her tiny buccaneer pal. Or, you know. Don't. I'll still love you, naturally.

And now, back to our program ...

"Belize. Belize. Belize." She said, in an attempt to improve her Google search rankings for the convenience of our future Belizean pen pal/hostess. "Belize." Oh, and you aren't a family-o-freaks. I just like how it sounds and nicely folds in those of you who aren't actually, legally related.

"Belize!"

Dude Looks Like a Lady

When Herb Urban bestowed my very first blog award, I was naturally curious about my fellow accolade-garnerers. So I peeked. I kneel at the feet of my bloggy bretheren. Specifically, I am in love with Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians.

I'm new to the Northwest, and I miss the pantsuits off my androgynous neighbors in San Francisco. MWLLOL is like a postcard from home.

Also, many of the men who look like old lesbians are aging rock stars. It would appear: Groupies + Drugs + Time = Bea Arthur. Oh, and being a member of rock band KISS absolutely guarantees that you will look like an old lesbian ... and really, not in a good way.

Also, a younger Shawanda dated musicians. They were so pretty and glamorous, and I got a lot of time to do whatever I wanted to do, since I'm a morning person and they had to sleep in. And, since these things sometimes ended badly, it's vaguely gratifying to consider that they are shopping at Chicos now. It's like finding out that the meangirl head cheerleader from your high school got fat (or at least fatter than you were then/are now). You don't really tell people you're glad, but you consider spending $500 on a plane ticket and hotel to go to your reunion just to see her. She is also shopping at Chicos, now. I wonder if she knows Steve Tyler?

After writing this post, the Universe, being the swift and clear karma cop that she is, plopped this Wikihow on my Google desktop to teach me a lesson. I loved the step-by-step and only wish I had someone to practice on, but the universe needn't have worried. I love Bea Arthur.

And, John Davidson.

And, Bruce Jenner.

There are so many more than you even know ...

Blog 365