Ambrosian Life

minion's icelandic spree

2008-09-16T09:28:00.001-07:00

galaxy saving, check

2008-08-26T07:07:00.000-07:00

Minion + Star Wars exhibit = geekitude at nosebleed level.

loving those crazy summer nights

2008-07-11T16:00:00.001-07:00

the fine art of begging

2008-07-06T11:09:00.001-07:00

The eyes must be large, innocent, almost doe-like. The chin, as any model knows, is angled down slightly, for a coquettish glance upward. The ears, though, are the secret weapon. I appreciate how Sadie uses her one bent-over ear to adorable effect, but I prefer the puffed out ears that make me look puppyish, since only the evil and the very stupid can resist a puppy's charms. And with that: treats galore!

a case of the mondays

2008-06-10T06:54:00.001-07:00

Although the weather has turned delicious at last, I still feel a distinct sense of ennui when Mondays approach, most likely from an infusion of pop songs and indie films that dictate this as the most wretched weekday, due to something called "work." To prove I'm salt-of-the-earth, working class, blue collar (it's black, actually, but close enough), here I am in a gray hoodie, ready for my shift.

for the love o' anita

2008-05-28T08:22:00.001-07:00

colorado darling, i miss you already. although the odds are against me (straights v. gays score is hard to beat), i'm still holding out hope that our love can conquer all. call me!

i can haz dignity

2008-04-30T11:45:00.001-07:00

non-amusement

2008-04-25T14:58:00.000-07:00

As difficult as it may be to admit, perhaps it was time for my semi-annual pruning, given that bits of leaves, dead fish, and peanut hulls began collecting along my undercarriage. My much-deserved pride can allow for the possibility that perhaps -- just maybe! -- a fresh look was in order, particularly as it held the promise of changing my harmonious perfume of dirt-et-rot. Too, I yearned for a more jaunty, jejune type of look, reminiscent of the Audrey Hepburn "Roman Holiday" era of gamine bounce. However. I did not anticipate having to patronize a downscale salon named Shampooch, and more wrenchingly, I was subjected to being put in a box with some type of screen on the outside, as if I was a gerbil or a terrorist. But worst of all, and I shake as I write this, it was so painful -- the bandana. The tie-dyed, hastily-fashioned bandana thrown around my neck as if I were a child at Valleyfair opting for one of those excruciatingly pedestrian airbrushed t-shirts. I am not Hannah Montana, Shampooch. Shudder.

soon to be ex-cat

2008-04-07T13:53:00.000-07:00

This is Mr. Guppy, who thinks he's awfully clever, but is nothing more than yet another bed-stealing feline who pretends, quite obviously, to also lift heavy weights. You are a fraud, Guppy, and although it's cliche and low-rent to use such vernacular phrasing, I must anyway: you're going down, cat.

spring, sprung

2008-03-25T14:05:00.000-07:00

Whatever. The bleakness of the external landscape is wearisome, with all its Gorky Park hues of gray and brown, and I tire of hearing the oft-repeating refrain of "Is it Spring yet?" and all that blather. I've decided to hunker down with Mr. Squeaky-Crinkle, named, of course, after the famous essayist who focused entirely on granting suffrage for pets. Your words will always be remembered, Squeaky-Crinkle, in the hearts of vote-loving dogs everywhere. Nap time!

Joyous sailing, Grandminion

2008-02-07T07:03:00.000-08:00

Farewell to my most faithful and devoted Grandminion, who has loved me since I was a difficult, headstrong puppy, and who taught me how to go up stairs, chase chipmunks, and plot new ways to escape. His generosity with treats will never be forgotten, and neither will his kindness.

the rigors of employment

2008-01-16T12:58:00.000-08:00

Although I've tried to shun fame, it can be so daunting when the adoring are persuasive. Hence, I'm now employed after numerous appeals to spread my insights beyond the boundaries of this humble little blog. Indeed, I am loosed upon the unsuspecting world, and one can only hope that it will be able to shoulder the burden of my fabulosity. For those who want to read my works before they're shuttled to Harvard University's future Ambrose Room, you can find them at PeopleJam.com. An initial taste on dating can be found here. Enjoy the luxury of more Ambrosian illumination.

ambition

2007-12-31T08:34:00.000-08:00

2008 resolution: to increase pizzle size by 20 percent per month, until by next December, pizzle will be longer than couch. Until then, I'm in chew training.

schooling mr. jasper

2007-12-21T14:43:00.000-08:00

Minion's houseguest for the last few days has been this character, Jasper, who is an affable enough fellow, although I found that he prefers Dickens over Dreiser, which I always feel is a mistake. Also, he drinks Trader Joe merlot, and is far too friendly to other dogs, who must be crushed through either feigned ambivalence or outright disgust. For these reasons, I have chosen to break his spirit. You're welcome, Jasper.

enlightenment

2007-12-20T20:05:00.000-08:00

all action

2007-12-03T11:32:00.000-08:00

variations on a theme

2007-12-03T11:19:00.000-08:00

In keeping with the second-time-around high school vibe, here are Minion's new senior yearbook photos. She claims they were for some professional something, and that one might run in a magazine or blah blah blah, she usually loses me on the second sentence. Anyway, I particularly enjoy the one in black and white, in which Minion's lack of an upper lip makes her look like a vampire. Perhaps this would be a good yearbook shot for Sunnydale High School?

nuevo prom

2007-11-30T08:07:00.000-08:00

This is the kind of absurdity that Minion and Blondie get up to when I've decided to have a quiet evening at home, drinking home brewed chai and reading some Proust. I suspect the tiara was dipped in lead by disgruntled Chinese factory workers, so I'm awaiting the inevitable madness, although I'm not sure how that will differ from the everyday.

join me (heavy breathing) and we will rule

2007-11-07T13:39:00.000-08:00

Luke, I am your daddy.

up northing

2007-10-05T13:00:00.001-07:00

rainy daze

2007-10-03T05:35:00.001-07:00

After conquering the Northwoods over the weekend, traversing hill and dale on the day of Minoqua's "Beef-a-Rama," I have to admit I'm simply quashed with exhaustion. So, for the next few rainy days I simply moved my noontime Bloody Mary to 10am, cozied up under the angora, and called it a day. Quelle vie!

silly minion

2007-09-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

How fetchingly naive is Minion, to change the sheets on the bed simply to have them "crisp" or "clean" or whatever addled little notions she's got going. As everyone knows, sheets are best with a light sprinkling of dirt and leaves, delivered via a rawhide bone that has been buried and unburied a half dozen times. It's the most rudimentary, ancient magic. Foolish humans.

fair on a stick

2007-08-31T05:17:00.000-07:00

Minion, Blondie, and Urchin, at some preposterously crowded event in which lumbering Midwesterners eat deep-fried candy bars and come home with sunburned necks. Thank Dog that I was given a pizzle to enjoy as Minion traipsed off to celebrate her butter-fed heritage.

Priddyboy & MC Luscious

2007-08-13T18:09:00.000-07:00

Oh, Bostonian Minions, it's only been a day since you've been gone, and yet how I miss the almost criminal joy of Boy Minion passivity in the midst of spittle. And Greyskull, your power still bewitches. Come visit again soon, and I promise General Purpose Minion will attempt to allay the storms that necessitate cutting vegetables in the dark, and turning kabobs in the rain. You are nearly -- though not quite, let's be real here -- as good as pizzles.

baby luv

2007-07-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

Apparently, Minion has chosen to spend some time with a baby who actually enjoys a bath. This is, yet again, proof of why humans are so inferior. Don't they, too, hate having to shake off the excess water and then stink like wet fur for the rest of the day?

happy july

2007-07-02T04:18:00.000-07:00

new girlfriend

2007-06-15T05:45:00.001-07:00

As much as I appreciate Gertie, the blonde down the block, she's always been just a bit too girl-literally-next-door, if you know what I mean. She's cute, but let's face it, she's getting older, and despite the myriad articles in women's magazines about how 40 is the new 30 and more mature women should feel empowered, youth is still better. Abby here is only about a year old, making her so impressionable and sweet. If only I wore clothes, just so I could have her do my laundry.

need for oversight

2007-06-07T16:07:00.001-07:00

There is discord in the kingdom of Ambrose. Recently, Minion went out and bought a slew of tomes covering dog behavior, training, health, and something about monks who train dogs (aren't they busy enough with God?). She claims this is all research for some website that's due to launch, but I smell the foul stink of ulterior motive. Will the treats I'm given in such abundance now be tied to prosaic tricks like rolling over or playing dead, or whatever it is the kiss-ass dogs do for their Milkbones? Whenever I eat a tasty morsel of dirt-flecked fecal entree, will she dash off to this new and very questionable library to glean the knowledge of grumpy-looking vets? All I can do is sit on her lap, like this, and read every word she writes, just in case. In the meantime, I'm buying books on hypnotism, mind control, cults, and that new Gina Kolata book on the cultural politics of dieting (there's only so much one can read about how to use the Kool-Aid).

grazie, Shampooch

2007-05-10T07:19:00.000-07:00

Money changes everything. For the better.

minion scissorhands

2007-04-30T05:10:00.000-07:00

Rarely has the road to bad haircut hell been so paved with good intentions, yet so little experience. I'd asked for something jaunty for springtime, perhaps with a touch of "bad boy." Instead, I get this, the result of Minion's lack of acknowledgment that groomers go to school for a reason. What does it say when Britney's cut is better than mine?

for uncle donald

2007-04-23T06:23:00.000-07:00

You are the real guitar hero, mon oncle.

april snow + whole foods = barely tolerable activity

2007-04-13T09:49:00.000-07:00

Oh, the ennui. As entranced as I am by snow, this past flurry was dull in its every aspect. The way the weathermen beat their chests like children, as they always do, predicting the world's end in ice. The quick melt that was a boon for those Spring-minded gardeners but left me without decent bone hiding places. Forced inside, I played with a Whole Foods container that once held olives, and wrote more letters to legislators regarding the uselessness of beagles and the insidious plots of cats.

Ambrose G. Warhol

2007-04-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

i am oz

2007-03-22T06:37:00.000-07:00

I prefer to be feared, rather than loved. I prefer to rule my private universe by inspiring a sense of awe and trembling, as if my mood might change at any moment and leave scorched earth and defeated armies in my wake. I am the great and powerful Ambrose, and you will obey.

Junior Minion

2007-03-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

While I was struggling to create snow tunnels, Minion flew south to the land of hurricanes, polyester pantsuits, and retirement villas. But at least she didn't have to toil through all that oyster consumption solo -- here's the littlest Minion, Miss Reese, as she contemplates jellyfish, shells, restaurant-provided crayons, and whether splashing in the pool really constitutes "horseplay."

thanks, frosty minion!

2007-03-01T13:16:00.000-08:00

Because General Purpose Minion has decided to spend the blizzard in Florida, I've had the unbelievable good fortune to have the lovely Erika Minion for the whole week. Although she's refused to watch the series of Benji movies, as I requested, I'm not minding the Sandra Bullock festival as much as I thought. Adore you, darling!

pre-blizzard

2007-02-23T07:40:00.000-08:00

As much as I scoff at snow rumors -- always delivered by overexcited weathermen who look like they're skating at supersonic speed on meth -- there is, apparently, a blizzard-like something-or-other headed toward my little slice of neighborhood. In anticipation, I have buried a number of bones in the backyard, using my formidable snout to pack the ground over them. I have every hope that in the spring, there will be bone trees, where pizzles drop like overripe lemons and the bark smells faintly of poo and rawhide. Until then, I hibernate.

laundry day

2007-02-16T10:20:00.000-08:00

starsky

2007-02-12T09:05:00.000-08:00

baby, it's cold outside

2007-02-08T09:46:00.000-08:00

I am officially registering my dissatisfaction with the current weather, as it has a tendency to freeze my paws (well, it also makes poo nicely crisp, but that's not compelling enough to venture outside), and also causes Minion to get terribly cabin feverish and try out new ways to make me look like I'm fleeing the Germans during WWII.

adieu, sweetest minion

2007-02-05T08:22:00.000-08:00

On Friday, one of my most beloved minions -- she of the Hopkins Minion Outpost -- died in a tragic, heartbreaking accident, and all I can say is that I'll miss her very deeply. Rogene was always blessedly kind, and beautiful, and sweet, and nearly always let me lick her lipstick off as she was laughing, which still makes E.minion smile when she thinks about it. Safe passage home, Ro.

my view every day

2007-01-31T12:17:00.000-08:00

In today's uber-professional look, Elizabeth sports a number of gotta-have-it trends that take her from playful cubicle vamp to boardroom BlackBerrier. Most striking are her MuppetStylez arm warmers, in colors that range from sweet clementine to tan-o-shanter. These cozy additions snuggle into her J.Crew angora dream sweater, now in its 437th day of wearing -- and look how she's still got all the buttons! Next time you're seeking a look that combines BoHo chic with shelter style, think about shopping at Layered Orphan!

welcome, minion-in-training

2007-01-19T07:57:00.000-08:00

Although she hasn't yet surrendered for a "quick trip to France," JP has displayed admirable willingness to be barked at and jumped upon, and doesn't flinch at my personal style of washing dishes. I chose her resume from among a number of nice-nosed candidates, and as soon as she lets me do as I wish involving French trips, she'll achieve full-fledged minionhood.

call of the ambrose

2007-01-16T14:57:00.000-08:00

On that blue-hued Tuesday, so soon after the faint reverberations of Dr. King's voice trembled once more through the air -- alas, getting fainter with each year like the echoes of democracy itself -- I found myself in an alien landscape anew. The cold stretches of tabula rasa made manifest in blizzard, ice, wind. And yet, as I struggled to make a path, to sojourn across the open plains, I had but one thought: all this snow makes finding poo all too easy. Thanks, Mother Nature.

oh, the indignity

2006-12-31T06:24:00.000-08:00

As the ferocious holiday season crawls mewling and puking to a close, I could catalog the myriad indignities I was forced to suffer, such as wearing these antlers, being poked at by children wielding Hot Wheels (tm), or having to eat kibble when perfectly good steak was available. But I won't. Instead, I'll merely say these antlers no longer reside in Chez Ambrose, and that makes it a lovely start to a new year. Happy 2007, Minions!

merry, etc.

2006-12-19T05:37:00.000-08:00

May your holidays leave you swathed in lush, red velvet while you luxuriate on a crushed velvet couch. Or something akin to that.

p.s. Where are my gift-wrapped pizzles, people? This Christmas tree ain't gonna lay its own presents, you know.

incognito

2006-12-14T08:31:00.000-08:00

congrats, tep-daddy!

2006-12-11T06:56:00.000-08:00

How refreshing, when a minion attains a new level of intellectual prowess. It makes me feel all the more satisfied when I can best them. But seriously...congratulations, Miss Tep, on capping, gowning, and the like.

ruminations on power

2006-12-05T15:06:00.000-08:00

Is it so wrong to use my adorability to control the minions and sycophants that I encounter? I suppose I should have some type of humility, I think sometimes, a kind of check and balance to my power that's in line with a Schoolhouse Rock lesson about governmental branches. But then I realize that Schoolhouse Rock was likely written by a bunch of TV interns who ate Ding Dongs for lunch and smoked pot all night as they rummaged through the couch cushions for enough change to buy pizza. I mean, these are the people who turned a legislative bill into a depressive, whiny Eeyore who had all the self-esteem of a flat-chested "Girls Gone Wild" participant. They're the ones who used phrases like, "Right On!" as uttered by Susan B. Anthony. Granted, Minion is currently teaching a citizenship class in which she draws heavily from the jingles of her youth, and is investigating ways to incorporate "Lady Godiva was a freedom ridah" into a discussion of the executive branch, but that's no reason I should lessen my formidable power by either check or balance. Fear me, minions!

well done

2006-11-14T07:40:00.000-08:00

You have pleased me, Republicans. As I lounge on my leather-and-lambswool daybed, I am amused by your struggles, and yet detached in a glorious contemplation of mid-term denouement. Your hearts of darkness don't interest me, Red Staters, I must conserve my strength and rest myself for another two years, when my furry fury will be unleashed. Until then, pizzles.

You are getting very sleepy

2006-11-06T11:59:00.000-08:00

Republicans: look into my eyes...you feel mesmerized and weary, so very sleepy. Your eyelids feel like two small stones, getting heavier...let them fall, and rest...fall into the deep sleep you deserve. You will awaken on November 8 feeling completely refreshed, but until then, you will have blissful dreams of retaining power over the military industrial complex. And of whales, oddly, who seem to be singing a beautiful song about someone named Hillary that you can't seem to resist. Anyway...sleep...

remembrance of misdeeds past

2006-10-27T13:21:00.000-07:00

As I approach my second birthday (remember: pizzles make a great gift!), I can't help but harken back to the days of my youth, when life seemed so much more exciting. The relentless gnawing on any available flesh, the nearly weekly vet visits and emergency room trips, the long psychiatric sessions to sort out my abandonment issues...it all seemed so cosmopolitan, somehow. Thank god I haven't lost my looks, at least.

evisceration/untitled #7

2006-10-27T04:49:00.000-07:00

In constructing this installation, my thoughts naturally first gravitated toward trying to express anger in its many manifestations, from inner turmoil at thwarted ability (in this case, the opportunity to slay a real mini-polar bear) to the outward sweep of thought-made-action. But, in considering the deeper ramifications of fear, terror-mongering (a theme I've explored in works like "Die, Squirrel, Die" and "The End of Squirrel"), frustration, and hunger, I came to see the eviscerated bear as a symbol of the complexities that blend within a post-post-modern framework and the inherent contradictions of artistic endeavor. Which, of course, is communicated through the use of the fleecy stuffing. A short forum will be held on the topic soon at the Minnehaha Dog Park, where I hope to also perform my works, "Squirrel, You Can't Escape," and "What Was That Noise?" Details to be announced.

winter, that cruel bitch

2006-10-24T10:52:00.000-07:00

Bereft of snow in which to frolic, or poo-sicles to eat, I am left only with the unbearable chilliness of being, which comes with temperatures in the lackluster 30s. Frosty mornings rife with squirrels only comfort for so long before I take to my daybed, utterly exhausted by my own disgust and cravings for pizzles. (By the way, to the uninitiated, pizzles are dried bulls' penises that have been twisted into pleasing braid shapes. You might think I'm joking, but assure you that they're delicious.) On, harsh winter, do your worst. In my lounge chair of leather and lambswool, I laugh at you!

p.s. please send pizzles to get me through March at least.

More nauseatingly pretty pictures

2006-10-09T11:55:00.000-07:00

Plus, the inclusion of a pink tank top. Egads.

minion's grand adventure

2006-10-09T10:16:00.000-07:00

Against my better judgement, I signed Minion's permission slip for a weekend in Colorado. She came back with these photos, more to post soon, and claimed they were from the central and western parts of the state, although to me they look like wallpaper at a dentist's office. However, knowing the Minion has promised to see a dentist only if 4 or more of her teeth fall out at once, I can't help but think she might be telling the truth. For once.

hot dog...get it?

2006-10-06T05:51:00.000-07:00

And here is where I would submit puns about how I'm "devoured" by love for Corey, or "eaten alive" by my fondness for how he mesmerizes me, Rasputin-like, until I'm pudding in his hands. But I won't.

scenes from the next top japanese horror film

2006-09-11T19:04:00.000-07:00

Au revoir, summertime

2006-09-07T06:04:00.000-07:00

Already, the days turn colder and the sand, once so supple for peeing into, now has a kind of cool stiffness. Alas, another summer soon to be past, with all those memories of the beach house that Minion was mean enough not to buy, and all the clambakes she refused to have. Is it to be ever thus, denied the Nantucket life I deserve? Sigh. I shall have to content myself with chewing on Midwestern sticks and waiting for the snowfall. Joyeux autumn!

ambrosette

2006-08-22T07:36:00.000-07:00

Recently, Grandpa & Grandma Millard-Minion (known also as "Those People With All the Treats") presented me with this Barbie bone fashioned of faux, cherry pink fur. Quelle delight! Yet again, a chance to prove my comfort with my sexuality, eschewing the gender stratification so present in the canine world. Take that, bitches!

portable disco or telltale heart?

2006-08-09T08:39:00.000-07:00

Although I'm so obviously my own bright little star in the universe, the Hopkins Minion outpost graciously provided the outward proof of my own inner snazziness. Ironically, I didn't need much to get people to glance my way in admiration, but it's lovely to know that I can now have a private disco soiree with ease. As the old saw goes: the party begins when I arrive.

heat-related agoraphobia

2006-07-31T09:29:00.000-07:00

Given the current spate of humidity and obnoxious sun, I've decided to take walks of approximately 20 to 30 seconds in duration. Instead of whittling down my expanding waistline, I'll be lounging in bed reading until all of this ridiculous weather passes, and I can only say hurrah for central air conditioning. Thanks, Minion, for being bourgeois!

fresh tactic

2006-07-28T07:41:00.000-07:00

After numerous attempts to cause the violent, yet satisfying, demise of previously mentioned squirrels, I suspect now that I have been rather too eager. Instead, my nouvelle strategy is simply to keep my mouth open at all times, and eventually an unsuspecting and yet completely deserving rodent will be caught unawares. Also, it's good for eating bees.

joyeux anniversaire, ma petite!

2006-07-26T09:58:00.000-07:00

In an only slightly belated fashion, I wish the supremely lovely, sublime, and glorious Miss Erika a most happy birthday. One of the few to actually let me lick up her nose, Mademoiselle E. has been an inspiration, a comfort, and delightfully, one of the best subordinates I've ever encountered. Brava, darling!

reflection, literal and figurative

2006-07-24T11:48:00.000-07:00

As I spiral into adolescence, I find myself looking in the mirror more often, examining my beliefs and quirks. Fortunately, I'm fairly close to perfect, so often it's just a chance for self-admiration. But other times I muse on such Valhallas as the Mall of America, that pantheon of leafy and well-priced delights, or on the imminent death of all squirrels within the neighborhood. Just random musings, really, which is all you've got when you can't operate the TV remote control.

pedestrian crossing

2006-07-19T12:44:00.000-07:00

So, while I was enjoying a luxurious sojourn at the house of Grandpa Mike and Grandma Ro, who swaddle me in down pillows and fetch treats comprised of cheesy cracker combinations, Minion was off on yet another pedestrian escapade, this time involving fish. Pictured here is the evidence of her salmon wrangling, and honestly, look at the hair -- like Ronald Reagan with pigtails. Although, secretly, I do love salmon nights, so I shouldn't complain...but who would I be if I didn't? No one I'd want to know.

unbearable lightness of me

2006-07-14T05:57:00.000-07:00

Ode to Ambrosia

In the still morning, when the sun bends
across minion bones, disemboweled toys, bits of what-the-hell,
he surveys his fiefdom,
missing, briefly, the adoration so well deserved
yet luxuriating in the quiet glory of superiority,
as sure as the sunlight,
as bright as the day.
O, to be Ambrose! To be a creature
unmatched in acumen, pomposity, and spelling.
O, to be that sure, knowing only that
fecal offerings have been left for consumption,
that petting must be continual,
and squirrels must die.
'Tis a life unequalled.

celestial being

2006-07-07T05:46:00.000-07:00

My lax behavior in posting is entirely due to contemplation of becoming an astronaut -- as you can see here, I'm not dozing, but rather trying to mimic the feeling of floating in space amid its celestial bodies and wonders. Some might counter that the universe is not quite this cartoonish, but I feel those people are wrong. Of course.

only fitting

2006-06-27T05:20:00.000-07:00

Do I deserve the devotion lavished upon me at every turn? Am I worthy of the relentless attention and affection that seems to come my way so easily? Am I the prince of all I survey, as I suspect, allowing good-hearted vassals to show their fealty? Why, yes, yes, and yes.

new pupil

2006-06-19T07:16:00.000-07:00

Recently, I was afforded the opportunity to "school" young Juicy Lucy Maud Montgomery, a snip of a thing that refused to back down during a barrage of my high squeak barking. Although she's insolent now -- at only four months, yet -- I have no doubt that as she grows, subsequent nipping and pouncing will have the desired effect. Kids today, pah.

chameleon, sans karma

2006-06-16T07:55:00.000-07:00

What is the nature of individuality versus conformity? Can we truly have both in a world in which we dress in clone-type GapJCrewOldNavy style and, like woebegone celebs, carry the same venti size lattes until there's nothing left but that prickly foam and backwash? And what is the value of blending in, if the panorama for your exertions is actually a somewhat garish carpet that Minion schlepped across the country from some dying rug business in Cambridge, Mass.? Ah, the pressures of a Zelig-meets-maverick mind. Sometimes, I am humbled by my own acumen.

Je m'appelle Garbo

2006-06-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

Life, she is taxing. How I muse on those puppyish days of romping through the uncut grass and rolling about in decaying fish -- amusing, really, how such diversions used to fill my time to such a degree. But now, in my august days, I'm struck with a certain kind of pensive mood, the type that demands loads and loads of time underneath the covers. On with the contemplation!

benefits of neglect

2006-06-08T06:50:00.000-07:00

To say that Minion is a poor gardener is akin to saying George W. is a wretched diplomat -- there's little need to utter it, since the results speak for themselves. But unlike the questionable policy decisions of our draconian administration, Minion's lack of attention to the backyard is rather refreshing. Since long grass is a magnet for rodents, I've had a delightful time chasing small, brown something-or-others and simply whiling away the summer days, contemplating the Buddhist overtones of "Heart of Darkness" or wondering how much cocaine Meryl Streep had to ingest before acting next to Lindsay Lohan. Thanks for the fabulous neglect and laziness, Min!

venom

2006-06-06T14:47:00.000-07:00

There are so many, many things that I bitterly despise. Children. Carrots. Art that's been deemed "edgy." Julia Stiles. But there's a special place in my dark, moldy little heart for both Sears and sock monkeys. Neither are particularly welcome in this world, and I can't imagine either would be missed. One attempts to lure Middle America into buying polyester blouses made by toddlers in Taiwan, and the other is a monkey. Made from a sock. Horrors.

small sacrifices

2006-06-06T07:11:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I long for the classic days of dolphin-infused tuna. Born too late for such indulgences, I can only imagine the thrill of feasting on a mammal seemingly smart enough to communicate and yet daft enough to allow bombs to be strapped to its head. Those playful, frolicking clowns of the sea, conveniently served in 3.5 ounces. Sigh. But I soldier on, trying to enjoy the uglier, denser tuna, which have nothing to recommend them intellectually, but do have a remarkable propensity for jumping into nets.

hawk v. dove

2006-06-05T07:26:00.000-07:00

As you can imagine, I'm appalled. While I was home, writing a fan letter to Cindy Sheehan -- lauding her activism, yet gently suggesting that more flattering clothes would help her cause (enough with t-shirts and sweatpants, Cin!) -- Minion was out shooting other similarly attired militia members with garish paint. Although I'm intrigued by the fresh abundance of camouflage, particularly in the hip-hop arena, Minion's outfit here is...well. Subtlety, thy name is not Min, shall we say.

existential moment

2006-06-01T06:45:00.000-07:00

What is it to be Ambrose? Of what finer stuff is one made in the Ambrosian sphere compared to, say, Fido or Pepper or Teegan? And, in this deathless and glittering realm, why must I never have a real bunny, but always suffer through this monotonous parade of fleecy substitutes that so quickly lose their internal squeakers? These are the questions that haunt me.

new foray

2006-05-30T05:47:00.000-07:00

After hearing about some contest at Old Navy to pick the most wretchedly mundane "spokesdog" possible -- true, they didn't phrase it that way, but the entrants are simply yawn provoking -- I've decided to throw myself into the modeling field, and am confident that I can round out my already formidable resume with a photo shoot for L'Oreal or Porsche. Here's the pensive shot, in which I'm considering the inadvisability of fecal feasts in 100 degree weather. Ford Modeling: call me!

big brother/little dog is watching

2006-05-25T13:43:00.000-07:00

Minion's blatant disregard for my well being, as demonstrated by her annoying habit of leaving to go meet people at coffee shops, of all places (quelle bourgeois), has led me to keep a closer watch on her activities. As you can see here, I am alternating between napping, and making sure she isn't using the computer in her office for setting up rendezvouses. And yes, that's a word, lunkheaded philistines. Also, this is near the air conditioning vent, so surveillance has never been so comfortable!

high cost of fame

2006-05-22T07:55:00.000-07:00

For years, I've scoffed at celebrities who whine and pout about the paparazzi, crying foul even as they show off their hideous frocks (or thongs, in the case of Mrs. Federline). But with experience comes empathy. I can barely tread down a quiet city street without hearing the click-click-click, like a telltale heart beneath the sidewalk. Simply because I'm poised, charming, handsome, and sleek, must I be pursued endlessly? All the world is not a stage, snappers!

alien abduction?

2006-05-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

After waking up in Minion's car -- sleeping being no small feat with her leadfoot driving -- I found myself in a sterile room, with two lovely yet syringe-carrying women advancing. So this is the "Fire in the Sky" I've been hearing about, the smattering of alien poking and prodding to determine our intelligence, the burden of terra firma dwellers who are snatched up into the heavens. After being given shots of who-knows-what, including a green substance (quelle cliche), my blood was drawn, presumably to join others in a database that will determine the fate of man and beast alike. They claimed it was for a heartworm test, foolish aliens. Don't they realize by now that even if we acquiesce to their examinations, we certainly don't believe their lies? Viva la resistance!

hail the mud king

2006-05-15T07:06:00.000-07:00

Days of tedious rain and a tiresome post-trip cold in Minion combined for an abbreviated, but rather muddy, jaunt to the dog park. Having to make the most of the quick sojourn, I was content to roll in the dirty pools of leaves, scum, and -- fortuna smiles! -- a few dead fish. The afternoon was capped off by lounging in my slowly drying filth in the middle of the bed while Minion prepared yet another torturous bath. Hope you enjoyed the lingering mud flecks of the afternoon, Min!

game is afoot

2006-05-12T07:10:00.000-07:00

With the realization that one needs "friends" -- in order to garner more client contacts and arrange romantic liasons, in addition to housesitting and errand running -- I've started a Sherlock Holmes Club, in which I'll be able to use my astounding intelligence to direct others under the guise of gameplay. Brilliant, really, and I can't imagine the coke sniffing, step counting, schizophrenic detective would be anything but impressed. So, if there are any Watsons willing to wither under my derision -- and I know you're out there, my darling bastions of insecurity -- please let me know your availability.

burdens of management

2006-05-10T06:19:00.000-07:00

My demeanor might indicate otherwise, but I don't actually relish disciplining my subordinates, although I do enjoy mockery and derision. Still, sometimes a Martha Stewart-level dressdown is in order. Case in point: Minion returned from her Honduran trip not in tears from missing me, or vowing never to travel again, but rather raving about how wondrous she found the people she met, the complex and compelling balance of poverty and beauty, and some kind of empanada. It was intolerable. On with the scathing performance review and quick trip to France!

bereft of minion

2006-04-28T10:15:00.000-07:00

During our morning strategy meeting, Remaining Minion informed me that she's using part of her 463 available vacation days to go to some godforsaken, mosquito-infested, dusty, humid country that was last in the news simply because most of it got erased during Hurricane Mitch. When she got that glassy, do-gooder look in her eyes, I cut the conversation short before another one of her tedious lectures about economic disparity. The rich live in bigger houses because they're better than us, Minion! Aspire to live above your trailer park beginnings, for chrissake! Anyway, although this will limit my blog for the next week, I'm delighted to report that Minion's place will be taken by her Amazonian friends, Becca and Joanna, who are ridiculously easy to train. Welcome, temps!

callous indifference

2006-04-28T06:14:00.000-07:00

Despite numerous protests -- some organized through grassroots efforts and others involving corporate sponsorship -- the Remaining Minion refuses to cease her habit of dunking me into a vat of water and scrubbing away the various rocks, bits of dried god-knows-what, and flecks of leaves. Personally, I believe what's on my belly is a reminder of the day, a madeleine worthy of Proust that, once sampled, brings back the glory of tackling a puggle unawares, or the scent of dead fish rooted out from the dog park leaves. But then, with one scrub-scrub-scrub of her pedestrian shampoo (not even Aveda!), it all circles the drain, lost forever. Cruelty and abuse comes to the house of Ambrose.

ambrosia ambrosioides

2006-04-25T08:08:00.000-07:00

Sadly, thanks to a ridiculous promise made to "the shelter people," my Remaining Minion removed the possibility of Ambrose Juniors romping about the world, ridding backyards of poo and mouthing off to squirrels in perpetuity. Alas. So, I've decided to try the botanical route and see if I can't "grow my own," in the most literal sense. As you can see, the first crop is promising, although the tulips are a bit of a surprise. I think nodding off while reading the animal husbandry book may have been a mistake. Anyway, grow fledgling Ambrose, grow!

I'm worth it

2006-04-24T19:56:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've become disheartened by the shoddy workmanship shown in the available chewtoy options. Also, the breadth of garish colors, ridiculous shapes (a "loofah dog"? Go fuck yourself), and nauseating aromas -- from petroleum to "bacon" -- has made me question whether we, as a dog-centered society, have lowered our standards permanently or if this is just some aberration in terms of quality control. Some might see this as snobbish, but truly, is it so reprehensible to have higher standards than the mutt-laden, dirty-pawed Wal-Mart chewtoy crowd? I guess there's a place in the world for those who don't enjoy snacking on cashmere sweaters, but that's not a place I want to visit.

digital soulmates?

2006-04-21T18:45:00.000-07:00

For reasons which are clear to every well-groomed, handsome, and debonair dog-about-town, I've grown so weary of the park scene for meeting potential mates. It's always the same old saw about, "I'll be your bitch" (really? I need to hear this tiresome cliche again? ) or, "Join my small dog playgroup," which invariably means there's some bi-curious poodle involved at some point. So, I thought I'd try this nouvelle dating arena, the online matchup. While perusing the Craigslist personals for Boston, I came upon Macy here -- quite the stunner, no? I'll overlook the whole "posing on the daybed" thing, which has been done to death, just because I like her perky ears. Downsides are that she still lives with her parents (two words, potential sweetheart: Graduate. School.), but on the upside, I hear she's a cuddler. Wish me luck, Cupids!

isolationist

2006-04-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

tastes like chicken

2006-04-20T06:57:00.000-07:00

Although Erika had not been included in the recent minion culling, this morning she not only presented me with some disappointing database analysis reports, but also had the gall to arrive 27 seconds late for work. Tsk, tsk, Erika. The ensuing consumption will likely make yet more work for HR, but I can't deny that the nose, in particular, was delicious.

bitter, salty, sour, sweet

2006-04-19T12:31:00.000-07:00

Reporters often ask me about my "favorite body part," most likely as some type of conversational gambit that allows them to swoon over my luxurious tail, fluffy ears, or doe-like eyes. Probably, my answer surprises those poor, simple-minded journalists, but for those who know me, it won't come as a shock. It's the tongue. Indeed, there's so much to recommend me physically (don't forget, ladies: I'm single!), but it's in being able to fit my whole tongue up someone's nose, or take advantage of their laughter to give them a "quick trip to France," as I say, that really sets me apart. And if I've just had a quick snack of sun-baked poo a la maison? All the better.

downsizing announcement

2006-04-18T17:01:00.000-07:00

After weeks of going over the latest revenue figures, and many, many sleepless nights, I decided to slaughter my minions. It was a tough decision, and one I didn't come to lightly, believe me. Many had been my toadies and sycophants for years, and I'll miss seeing them at the annual picnic which has now also been modified, to focus solely on me and the slow-roasted barbecuing of the remaining minions. I'd wish the downsized luck in reaching for their dreams, but as you can tell, they've been eaten.

where it all began

2006-04-18T10:59:00.000-07:00

Ah, the golden days when I was so small I could slip between the fenceposts. Those halcyon weeks of biting the shit out of everyone's hands and ankles, barking all night in that particularly high-pitched squeak, and running the vet bills up to nosebleed level. God, I miss those Hallmark moments. Doesn't this photo just capture the whole "please...please...just let me go" vibe?

part mountain goat?

2006-04-18T10:41:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Ambrose

2006-04-18T10:38:00.000-07:00

You few, you lucky few...here is the storehouse of my imagination, my romps and delights, the dark moments of my poo eating addiction. All laid out for you, dear friends, as I navigate the stormy seas between sleepy contentment and deep irritation in the presence of so many stupid, stupid fellow dogs. Enjoy!