Mutt or Muffin?

It's 72 degrees, sunny, there's a movie shooting in my neighborhood, I'm going to see a comedian friend perform tonight, and I went to an organic restaurant the other night with locally grown food. I know what you're thinking, "What? Jacktoschool, you moved back to LA?" Nope. I'm in Baltimore. (And yes, I just referred myself as Jacktoschool. It's kind of weird, but I kind of like it.) Plus, full disclosure: I'm seeing the friend perform in D.C, not Baltimore. Close enough. And I have no idea what movie is shooting. But who would have thought? All this in Baltimore.

Not to dwell on this perfect Baltimore weather... and I know it's totally wrong and un-p.c., but, um, I'm kind of pro-global warming. Excuse me, climate change. Melting icecaps, shmelting shmicecaps. At least right now, I'm pro. Like today. When it's 72 degrees outside in November. Luckily my blog is only read by 5 people, so no threat of angry environmentalists writing letters. Whew.

Onto Obama, since I'm so not over this incredible new reality we're living in. I kind of love that the biggest news that came out of his first press conference was what kind of puppy he'll get his daughters. (Also, every time I hear the sound bite, "A mutt like me" I want to pinch his adorable cheeks. And by the way, when the last time I wanted to pinch a president's cheeks? Maybe this should be the last time. And maybe I should have kept that sentiment to myself. Creepy, Jacktoschool. Creepy). Anyway, everyone has their own opinion on what kind of dog the Obamas should get. A pitbull named "Lipstick" is the obvious option, but I have my own opinion: a Muffin. Duh.

Have you seen a cuter face? Oh, and the dog is nice, too. That's me at a frisbee tournament my junior year of college, with my Wesleyan-requisite short haircut growing out, and my adorable Maltese, Muffin, may she rest and pee all over doggie heaven. Granted, Muffin was no way in hell a shelter dog, as Obama would like, nor was she a mutt, but rather a purebred. A very white, almost Aryan, purebred. (Her brothers and sisters were show dogs, but she had a flaw on her nose, so no show for the Muffdog. But seriously, a flaw on her nose. Even that's adorable.). Okay, Muffin was nothing like the Obamas. But, hey the Obamas are all about diversity, right? I got Muffin when I was 10, the same age as Malia, and I was deliriously happy with her. Not to mention, Malteses are hypoallergenic. Plus, Muffin-- and thus all Malteses-- it's my blog and I can generalize if I want to-- was quite liberal in her views and loved everyone equally. She licked all people regardless of race, religion, age, political views, or color. (Some would say she was a slut in that manner, but I prefer to think of her as open-minded). Also, having her reproductive rights taken away from her at a very young age, she was adamantly pro-choice. Anyway, she's been dead for about four years. And it's getting to be a little weird how much I'm personifying my dead dog on a public blog. So, I'll stop. But seriously, Obamas, get a Maltese and name it Muffin. Do it for your country.

Addendum: Because the owner of the dead Mr. Wuv is too lazy to have her own blog, I was told to give a blog shout-out to Mr. Wuv: Hello, Wuv. You are sorely missed. I hope you and Muffin and getting along up there. (Yes, these are grown women obsessed with their dead dogs).