"How to get Dylan Safely to the Garage without Getting Attacked"

Oh how I cherish my morning routine with little Dylan.  

Putting Dylan out for the day is like a game of Double Dutch (jump-rope with 2 ropes). 

Timing when to jump in can be difficult if you don't know the local rhythms and rules. Luckily for me, Dylan does not divert from his daily routine too often. 

Our morning usually begins pleasant. After a perfect night sleep, I wake up, drag myself get out of bed and tip-toe toward the shower out of fear that my little monster will wake up before he is ready. 

"Exhibit A"
(Dylan Sleeping)

As I get ready, Dylan slowly wakes up and starts his day. 

After about 15 minutes, Dylan is fully awake. He begins wondering the house looking for food and begins terrorizing his beefy sister Bella. 

"Exhibit B"
(Beefy Sister Bella) 

After about 30 minutes of "play" time, Dylan is exhausted and decides to take a little nap while guarding my door.

"Exhibit C"
(Dylan Sleeping/Guarding) 

Suddenly Dylan is awake and alert. He jumps to his paws at the sound of my music turning off. This triggers him to run for cover.

The game begins.  Every morning I must figure out "How to get Dylan Safely to the Garage without Getting Attacked".

This morning I started by checking under my bed.  

This particular location is usually the most dangerous of places because my reaction time for pulling my arm and face back before his anticipated vicious attack is most likely delayed due to the awkward angle of my bed.

Haha! Caught you Small Brain!

"Exhibit D"
(Small Brain Under my Bed)  

However, pursuant to Rule No. 231 of "How to get Dylan Safely to the Garage without Getting Attacked", you shall never leave the malti-poo unattended once the malti-poo's location has been revealed. 

Although I am very familiar with this rule, my A.D.D. got the best of me. I messed up. 

As I leaned down to maneuver him out, I saw a light flash behind me which triggered me to remember the coffee pot was on which then lead me to get up, go down stairs and make myself a cup of coffee to go. 

When I returned upstairs to get my things... I remembered that prior to getting my coffee I was doing something....

Oh yes... Getting little devil dog out from under my bed.

However, by the time I leaned down to fetch Dylan, he was long gone. Shoot. 

I then proceeded down the stairs to his second favorite location: Under the table in the entry way. 

Haha! Caught you again small brain!

"Exhibit E"
(Small Brain)

Although I am overwhelmed with joy because I outsmarted a malti-poo, I am discouraged from completing my task when my memory begins to replay the awful consequences of getting too close.

"Exhibit F"

(Almost too close)

At the very moment Dylan began to make his fake panting noise, which means the attack is near, I remember Rule No. 967. 

Rule No. 967 says, that "once you have made eye contact and revealed yourself to your four legged friend, you must never make quick advances at the suspect. Instead, slow, gentle movements will be your best bet at saving your fingers". 

I have also learned that getting down to his level helps with the non-intimidation approach.

I get down and start calling for Dylan in my nicest voice possible, tapping the ground gently making sure not to scare him and pretend as though I am not about to rip his head off for making me late for work once again. 

Haha! Sucker. Works like a charm. Dylan surrenders.

"Exhibit G"

(Sucker starts coming out from hiding)

"Exhibit H"

(Sucker then becomes submissive)

  "Exhibit I"
(Dylan Retreats to his bed in the Garage)

"Exhibit J"

(We say our Goodbyes)

"Exhibit K"

(Dylan Accepts the Feeling of Defeat)

Don't feel too badly for my little small brain dog. He has a great life. 

In addition to having to stay outside for the day while mommy attends work and law school, Dylan chases the cat, beats up his beefy sister Bella, sleeps in our beds, play's chase with the little kids down the street, eats human food and receives daily massages.

Yesterday I caught him eating a full roll of cheese. He loves his life.  And I am happy to report I still have my face and all my fingers.

Dylan's Driver's Licence

In all of the beautiful pictures of my little angel, you may have noticed something that resembles a driver's licence around his neck.

"Exhibit A"

I thought it was important that I clarify something: The "license" around Dylan's neck is not in fact a real driver's license. 

Although it would be funny to see little Dylan joy riding around town, I think public policy outweighs my personal benefit of Dylan being able to operate machinery.

It is, however, a great conversation piece when the person he attacks is asking for your information and you politely tell them that it can be found on his driver's license, which is conveniently located around his little neck that I am about to wring. 

I got this little gem at YappyHappy.com a couple of years ago. Which reminds me, it's expired so I must purchase another one.

The Countdown Continues

In approximately 571 days, 13908 hours, 834531 minutes or 50071657 seconds, I will be a Law School Graduate!

Mood: Slightly Stressed because Ms. Winfrey has not responded to her invitation as of today's date.

I have 214 days, 5148 hours, 308927 minutes or 21095615 seconds until I finish my third year.

Mood: Anxious.

Only 62 days, 1597 hours, 95865 minutes or 5751928 seconds until third year mid-terms...ahhh.

Mood: Starting to get really Stressed. 

In 1 days, 32 hours, 1783 minutes or 106985 seconds I will be leaving my little devil, I mean prince, with my roommates and jet setting to Las Vegas to meet my momma for a Birthday Celebration.

Mood: Excited! Happy Birthday Mom!

Unfortunately, I will most likely be unable to update you on the status of Dylan's behavioral issues, my obsession admiration for Oprah, my daily sister put downs, my dad's struggles as a U.S. Citizen, my brother-in-law's fear of gnomes, my law school studies, my favorite things of the minute and my mood switching rants until I return on Monday.

Until then, if I do not make it home alive, it has been nice communicating with you.

I shall leave my shoes to Ms. NicoleMarie, my bed sheets and furniture to my roommates, all of my Law School stuff to my friend Rick, my wardrobe to my friends, my car to my neighbor Eddie and my little prince to my sister and brother-in-law. Everything else shall be divided equally among my family.

Disclaimer: Eddie- If you ever read this, you really don't get my car. I apologize for the confusion. I actually do not even have authority to "will" my car to anyone if that makes you feel better. I believe my roommates have proper title to all of my possessions....Except Dylan! And you can't have him either. He belongs to my beloved sister and brother-in-law. 

Picture Jump!

My cousin, Ms. Nicole Marie, introduced the family to a tradition that we hold very close to our hearts: Picture Jumping!

We picture jump everywhere. We do it at home, in subways, parking lots, beaches, weddings, churches, friends houses, other countries, etc.

Although there is an art to creating the perfect picture jump, some of our family has it down slightly better than others. 

I will refrain from naming any names in an effort to avoid the "bad jumper" from becoming discouraged. 

Anywho, in order to get the perfect picture jump you must be working with an experienced photographer.

If an experience photographer is unavailable, you are running the risk of a "premature" picture.

"Exhibit A"-Premature Picture

Another conflict that may arise if you are working with an inexperience photographer, is the possibility of not capturing the jump due to timing.

If the picture is not taken at a certain time, which is when all jumpers are perfectly lined up in the air, the picture jump will not be perfect.

"Exhibit B"- 
Bad Timing- Notice the Woman in the Black and How She Wasn't Ready.

However, sometimes even if you do all things right and you are still unable to capture a perfect picture jump, you may just be lacking an experienced jumper, a.k.a. "The Bad Jumper" discussed supra. 

"Exhibit C"- Bad Jumper
Notice the "Bad Jumper" in the Black.

I remind myself to not get frustrated and to be patient with our "Bad Jumper".  You should remember to stay calm as well.

I know in my heart, one day our family will get the perfect picture jump.

Dylan's Brothers

I suppose Dylan's failed attempt at running away this morning may have been caused by the photoshoot I did with him as soon as he woke up:

"Exhibit A" 

What? I couldn't help it. He looks like an Ewok. 

Reeeallly?

Really Dylan? Is your life that terrible?

This morning I woke up, made coffee and got ready for the long day ahead of me. 

When it was time to leave the house, I noticed that as I turned my music off I did not hear the normal shuffle from the dogs scurrying for cover in an attempt to avoid the inevitable: me leaving for the day.

Today was different.

It was awkwardly quiet, which is usually a bad sign.

I went through the house looking for Dylan in all of his favorite hiding spots: Under my bed, next to my roommates door, under my roommates bed, on top of the white couch, under the table by the front door, under the coffee table in the living room and under the kitchen table.

Dylan was no where to be found.

I then became panicked and thought, well maybe the dogs already escorted themselves into the garage. I then walked into the garage only to find it empty.

I opened the garage door to see if the gardeners may have left the back gate open. The gate was closed and locked. 

Ahhhh... where is my prince!?

I then went into the backyard in a last attempt to find my son before calling 911. 

While I was calling out Dylan 's name, I spotted his sister, Bella, laying in a bush in the corner of the yard with a confused look on her face. (Which isn't out of the ordinary.)

I then see him. Dylan. Vigourously digging under the fence which so happens to connect to the community park, a.k.a. his freedom. His white paws were black and his mouth was full of mud. 

As he sees me approaching him, he starts to eat the dirt so that his digging will go quicker. 

Dylan was trying to escape. I get closer. He digs and eats faster. He only stops eating and digging because I pick him up. 

He looks at me with anger and disappointment. 

Really Dylan? Your life is so terrible that you are trying to escape by eating dirt? 

Mom's hurt this morning.

"Exhibit A"

"Exhibit B"

"Exhibit C"

 "Exhibit D"

I understand that you have seen little snippets of the real world on the 2 walks I have taken you on thus far in your life. 

I also understand that your curiosity may have gotten the better of you this morning.

However, I can not accept the fact that you would rather eat dirt by the mouth full than stay living with me.

Monchichi

Ok... I feel really badly for bringing light to this situation, but my sister's friend brought it to my attention that Kim Kardashian's husband, Chris Humphries, may in fact resemble a Monchichi. 

Having not heard or seen a Monchichi since 1992, I quickly Googled both Mr. Humphries and a Monchichi to see if they do in deed strike a resemblance to one another.

"Exhibit A-Chris Humphries"

 

 "Exhibit B-Monchichi"

Well this is awkward... Kim is married to a monchichi.

Well This is Awkward

Although many of you may believe that some of my stories are false, or possibly exagerated, I am slightly embarrassed to inform you that they are in fact true.

My dear friend, Ms. Pretty Unpretentious, sent me the following picture this morning with the headline... "Awkward":

"Exhibit A"

Although I felt slightly discouraged from continuing to pursue my dream after I was banned last night from posting on Ms. Winfrey's fan page wall, I am in fact allowed again to proceed with my attempts to bring my idol to my Law School graduation in May 2013. 

And to my Dear Friend Ms. Winfrey: I apologize for the social overload last night and this morning. I admit, the 18th post may have been too much. I promise to limit my daily contacts to you to one social outlet per day. 

Life Class

Dear Oprah:

I received your email dated September 22, 2011, in which you asked me to "watch a special message" from you in regards to your Life Class which starts October 10, 2011 at 8:00 p.m.

Your message confirmed that you have in fact gained over one million students to sign up for class.

Although I appreciate you keeping me informed of the status of your Life Class, I am concerned that you have not gotten back to me regarding the following:

First:

In my email to you dated September 11, 2011, I expressed my concern that I have yet to receive my "Oprah's Class Journal" that you promised in your email to me dated August 18, 2011 because I was ONE of the first million student's to sign up for your Lifeclass.

Because class is starting in just a few weeks, my concerns have grown and my fear of not being prepared for class has heightened.

Although I have given my mail carrier's the heads up, please let me know when I may expect my "Oprah's Class Journal".

Second:

In my letter dated September 13, 2011, I asked you to please get back to me with "regards to attending my Law School Graduation in May 2013 and giving a well-prepared speech". 

I advised you that "I have already filed a petition with my school for an extra ticket for you to sit next to my dad, step-mom, sister, brother-in-law and mom. If you hurry and get back to me, I might be able to put in a request for an additional ticket for Stedman if you were thinking about bringing him".

I also asked you to "Please get back to me with your answer to all of the foregoing no later than October 1, 2011, which is the deadline to submit an Amended Petition to my school for an extra ticket to my May 2013 Law School Graduation".

As of today's date, I have not heard from you.

As October 1, 2011 is approaching, please advise asap to all of the foregoing.

Thank you much and I will see you in class!

E.T. Go Home!

Who ever said this was a "great movie for the whole family" was a liar! 

Pursuant to Black's Law Dictionary, Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress is defined as the tort of causing another severe emotional distress through one's great negligent conduct.

Most court's will allow a plaintiff to recover damages for emotional distress if the defendant's conduct results in physical contact with the plaintiff or, when no contact occurs, if the plaintiff is in the zone of danger.

Emotional distress is defined as a highly unpleasant mental reaction (i.e. anguish, grief, fright, humiliation or fury) that results from another person's conduct.

The "Zone of Danger" is defined as the dangerous area created by the defendant's negligent conduct.

The making of E.T. was pure negligence: 

The creator's of E.T. owed a duty to little children everywhere. The risk that children would be scarred for life after watching this disturbing movie was 100% foreseeable. 

Further, it is in the best interest of society to protect our children and not have them be exposed to little scary creatures running around trying to use the phone before the age of 18. 

Because the creator's of E.T. had a duty to children everywhere,  they breached said duty by making a film about a little alien that was going to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Since watching the scary, life changing movie, my sister and I have had to spend an excess amount of money on nightlights, flashlights, heightened electricity bills, therapy, etc. 

The watching of E.T. has disrupted our social life, my sister's married life and has had severe consequences on the completion of our brains fully forming. 

Because the breach of their duty was a substantial factor in causing us severe mental anguish and defendant's conduct resulted in the physical contact with our brain, the creator's of E.T. owe us the following damages:

***An apology for making the most disturbing, scariest movie ever***

However, I will settle this prior to trial if you get Oprah to come to my Law School Graduation in May 2013. Thank you much.

In the Defense of My Sister

With all this new found fame, I would like to take a moment and write a piece "in the defense of my sister":

As much as I poke fun at her, I understand (and believe you should too) that my sister's haircut when she was a little girl was not her fault.

In fact, it was intentional.

Every six weeks, my loyal mother would take us to her good friend, Barber Shop Joe, to get our hair cut and styled. 

Although talented, Barber Shop Joe knew one hair style and one hair style only: The feathered mullet.

Here is an example of what a typical family looked like as we passed each other to and from Barber Shop Joe's magic chair:

"Exhibit A"

Throughout the years of child abuse, opps, I mean salon days, Barber Shop Joe would repeat his motto to us: He firmly believed hair should be simple and convenient, yet sassy. 

Because it took extra time and energy to keep your hair away from your face by placing your long locks behind your ears, Barber Shop Joe made "our" (*my sister's*) life simple by eliminating the extra step and cutting off the "excess" hair that went from our (*her*) temples to about an inch past our (*her*) ear.

"Exhibit B"

As much as I would like to advise you that my mother realized the damage she may have been causing by allowing Barber Shop Joe to continue this abuse on us before Barber Shop Joe got to me, her innocent little baby, I mustn't lie to you.

My mother failed to recognize the signs of a fashion no no and by the fifth year of this torture... everyone in our family was given the feathered mullet.

"Exhibit C"

(Top Row-Right to Left: Adopted Cousin Nicole Marie, Barber Shop Joe's Best Client, My Mother's Perfect Little Angel. Bottom Row: My Monkey Cousin.)

However, lucky for the rest of us, Barber Shop Joe lost his disposable camera before he could capture our feathered mullets.

So... please let the record be clear, that my sister was not the only one that endured this torment.

Best Friends

My sister and I got off to a rough start when I was born. The news of my mom being pregnant with me devastated her. 

In an attempt to avoid the inevitable, my sister would run head first into my mom’s pregnant stomach with hopes that she would stay an only child. 

Her attempts to murder me luckily failed.

When I was born, things started to look up. She accepted the fact that she was no longer an only child and even became interested having a baby around.  She would dress me and my mom would allow her to feed me, only while being supervised.

My sister's curiosity lasted for approximately the first two months of my life. 

Extreme boredom soon set in and she was ready to get back to "normalcy", which apparently I did not exist in.

I slowly began to fear for my life.

"Exhibit A-Notice the Fear in my Eyes"

This fearful state only lasted so long and some where down the rocky road of being sisters, there came a time when my sister began to like me.  

Even though we were sometimes mistaken for brothers, my sister was always quick to correct the fact that we were girls.

"Exhibit B-Best Friends"

I think this sudden change in heart happened when I started attending her elementary school, which she vigorously begged my mom to keep me out of. 

I think my sister realized that being an older sister wasn't so bad!

"Exhibit C"

I realized that this "hate" for me was in fact fake when she started doing the following:

1. Holding my hand on every first day of school.

2. Siting next to me on the school bus when I was scared.

3. Always meeting me at the white line at every break she had.

4. Sticking up for me when someone would call me a boy; and 

5. Always laughing when I said something funny.

It's interesting when I sit back and think how far we have come.... not much has changed.

"Exhibit D-Best Friends"

 Well... maybe some things have changed...my sister doesn't look like a little boy named Pedro anymore. 

Night night! Can't wait for our 8:00 a.m. conversation tomorrow morning!

I have zero to talk about... so you better bring something good to the table.

Warrior Dash 2010

Warrior Dash is a "mud-crawling, fire-leaping, extreme run from hell". 

Around this time last year, my oh so sweet cousin advised me that we will be participating in said event.

(Note-I despise running.)

So, in order to get me excited for this "extreme run from hell", my cousin explained the run as a “Bay-2-Breakers” type event. 

Oh.... well in that case...My spirits automatically were raised and I began to search for the perfect costume. 

For those of you that are unclear as to what a “Bay-2-Breakers” type event is, please be advised of the following:

“Bay-2-Breakers” is a yearly "run" that takes place in San Francisco. However, this race is not an ordinary race. I have heard that some people actually run it. 

The other 132,563,289 people participating in this "run", use this race as a pre-Halloween party. 

The streets of San Francisco close down and everyone, dressed in their outrageous themed outfits, carrying things such as wagons with beer-kegs, bags of wine and bottles of whiskey, roam the streets attempting to make it to the finish line.

"Exhibit A"

"Exhibit B"

Sounds fun right??

Understanding what the expectations of “Bay-2-Breakers” are, I immediately accepted my cousin’s invite to participate in this “Bay-2-Breakers” type run.

My cousin and I rallied a group together to “run” with us and decided we were going to be "farm animals".

"Exhibit C"

I am the Gorilla.

"Exhibit D"

After we parked our car and began walking to the start line, I became confused. I remember thinking... "hmmm... that's weird. I do not see any one else in costume."

In fact, NO ONE was dressed in costume, other than some of my fellow runners who put on their best rendition of what a Warrior would run in.

"Exhibit E"

(The Start of Warrior Dash- Notice, No Costumes)

You may also notice that there were no floats, beer kegs, wagons full of people, themed outfits, bags of wine or bottles of whiskey in the above picture. 

Hence... this was NOTHING like Bay-2-Breakers.

My anxiety shot up as I realized that I was actually going to run this race.

So, I gave my cousin the "I Hate You Speech" and I started the race.... with my costume on.

"Exhibit F"

We made our way through ropes. 

 "Exhibit G"

and climbed up the hay bales...

"Exhibit H"

I made it to the end of the race in full gorilla costume. 

Moral of the story: Do some research before you enter a race.