PALM BEACH BURIED TREASURE FROM THE TERRACE
Woof, Kids!
Howlin' Happy Monday, you mutts! Go on...howl, just a little bit. Well, at least yap or whine your way into the day, okay?
The Diva-Dog has a master plan for the week. Oh, yeah. Ready? Simply to be on one of our terraces peering out toward the Atlantic without blinking. Why? My expressive eyes will be searching for some lame ship bobbing and bouncing out there whilst looking for buried loot, er, treasure. Seriously. Would I kid you kids? I figure if I can spot some of the fab and crusty gems they fish out of the salty water it could bring some treasure finding karma to the Diva. Treasure being sublime treats, you understand. For real, this is going on out there in the ocean neighborhood. Yo-ho...a pirate's life for me. Well, not a bad pirate. No, a swell and fabulous one.
Sitting, unblinking. Patiently waiting. Staring at the ocean, looking for the sunken treasure ship to appear, just like James Stewart spying on his neighbors in, Rear Window. Well, not exactly...Gaz and Moolie are no Thelma Ritter and Grace Kelly, just for the record. Hm, I need to find better sidekicks.
Again, the weekend was jammed. As I have growled about on numerous occasions, Gaz and Moolie are into one project after another. The wheel even came off our personal cart it was so loaded with...whatever. Yawn and boring. Gaz repaired the little cart wheel. Understand, when I say repair...I am using that term very loosely. Very.
They hauled themselves to a place called, Bellagio's, for breakfast on Saturday morning and then ran around West Palm and did meaningless and superficial errands. Ditched me at the condo, 'course.
Last week, Moolie, claiming to be the ever non-tv watcher...watched a new show on network tv. Glee, as in glee-club...singing and jazz. I will admit that Jane Lynch is a trip, but that dumb show takes place in Ohio. You heard me. Lima (LIE-ma), Ohio. Pronounce it correctly. Man. If you know anything about Gaz and Moolie, you will get what I'm sayin'. If not, too bad.
Now, that's not even the worst of it. Moolie is watching...Rachel Zoe Project. Again. For The Love of Lassie!!! Rachel Zoe, the toothpick stylist (as in, she is a toothpick, not that she styles toothpicks...wait, she DOES now that you think about it). Moolie has reached a new low (and I didn't think that was even possible) with this ree-dik stuff. Do we really give a tiny rat's ass how many new outfits, Liv Tyler, needs? Okay, it's ten, if you MUST know. Evidently, Moolie needs to know about shallow and self-involved celebs and all their clothing drama. Remember, she doesn't watch television much, to hear her tell it. Uh-huh.
Pups, Moolie hit up a fabric store on Sunday. What the...? Fabric. She has NO skills in this area. Zero. Zip. She carted in fabric and some piece of foam stuff. Hm. Can't be good.
Happily, I have to tell you that we pulled the cutest card from the mail box the other day...there, big as life...a snap of that HOT-A, Pudgy, right on the return address label. That long-tall Texan is the DAWG and Big Daddy is the berries. Wait, Pudge is short and stubby, but still HAWT. Anyhoo, we loved the card, but mostly we love Pudgy and BIG DADDY!
Zip it on into the day...I gotta get my fluffy and sassy self perched back on that terrace, pronto...don't want to miss buried treasure action. Makes me think of one of the worst movies...had another Texan in it...Matthew something and that non-actress, Kate something. Watching this shizz with binocs can not be any worse than that shizzy flick.
Bark at me!
Howlin' Happy Monday, you mutts! Go on...howl, just a little bit. Well, at least yap or whine your way into the day, okay?
The Diva-Dog has a master plan for the week. Oh, yeah. Ready? Simply to be on one of our terraces peering out toward the Atlantic without blinking. Why? My expressive eyes will be searching for some lame ship bobbing and bouncing out there whilst looking for buried loot, er, treasure. Seriously. Would I kid you kids? I figure if I can spot some of the fab and crusty gems they fish out of the salty water it could bring some treasure finding karma to the Diva. Treasure being sublime treats, you understand. For real, this is going on out there in the ocean neighborhood. Yo-ho...a pirate's life for me. Well, not a bad pirate. No, a swell and fabulous one.
Sitting, unblinking. Patiently waiting. Staring at the ocean, looking for the sunken treasure ship to appear, just like James Stewart spying on his neighbors in, Rear Window. Well, not exactly...Gaz and Moolie are no Thelma Ritter and Grace Kelly, just for the record. Hm, I need to find better sidekicks. Again, the weekend was jammed. As I have growled about on numerous occasions, Gaz and Moolie are into one project after another. The wheel even came off our personal cart it was so loaded with...whatever. Yawn and boring. Gaz repaired the little cart wheel. Understand, when I say repair...I am using that term very loosely. Very.
They hauled themselves to a place called, Bellagio's, for breakfast on Saturday morning and then ran around West Palm and did meaningless and superficial errands. Ditched me at the condo, 'course.
Last week, Moolie, claiming to be the ever non-tv watcher...watched a new show on network tv. Glee, as in glee-club...singing and jazz. I will admit that Jane Lynch is a trip, but that dumb show takes place in Ohio. You heard me. Lima (LIE-ma), Ohio. Pronounce it correctly. Man. If you know anything about Gaz and Moolie, you will get what I'm sayin'. If not, too bad.
Now, that's not even the worst of it. Moolie is watching...Rachel Zoe Project. Again. For The Love of Lassie!!! Rachel Zoe, the toothpick stylist (as in, she is a toothpick, not that she styles toothpicks...wait, she DOES now that you think about it). Moolie has reached a new low (and I didn't think that was even possible) with this ree-dik stuff. Do we really give a tiny rat's ass how many new outfits, Liv Tyler, needs? Okay, it's ten, if you MUST know. Evidently, Moolie needs to know about shallow and self-involved celebs and all their clothing drama. Remember, she doesn't watch television much, to hear her tell it. Uh-huh.
Pups, Moolie hit up a fabric store on Sunday. What the...? Fabric. She has NO skills in this area. Zero. Zip. She carted in fabric and some piece of foam stuff. Hm. Can't be good.
Happily, I have to tell you that we pulled the cutest card from the mail box the other day...there, big as life...a snap of that HOT-A, Pudgy, right on the return address label. That long-tall Texan is the DAWG and Big Daddy is the berries. Wait, Pudge is short and stubby, but still HAWT. Anyhoo, we loved the card, but mostly we love Pudgy and BIG DADDY!
Zip it on into the day...I gotta get my fluffy and sassy self perched back on that terrace, pronto...don't want to miss buried treasure action. Makes me think of one of the worst movies...had another Texan in it...Matthew something and that non-actress, Kate something. Watching this shizz with binocs can not be any worse than that shizzy flick.
Bark at me!
Diva ... a pirate? Not so much. That eyepatch just isn't that stylish and your shoulder only has room for a parakeet ... not a parrot!
For the record, it took considerable technical skills and knowledge to apply that two-sided tape to that wheel, don't ya know!
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Grey Goose!
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Darling, Gaz...hm, you have some valid points here. Some. Scant.
I'm kind of scared of parrots but you know how I adore chasing birds in the park...so, having a bird on my shoulder COULD be problematic. Point taken. Eye patch, eh? Hadn't thought about that. Sequins would help, huh?
Two-sided tape, Please. That was a band-aid if ever I saw one!!!
Grey Goose...HOWLIN' time!!!
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