So.  Damn.  Cute.

My parent’s dog, Butch.  He’s a durley – a word coined by Margaret Reynolds (see Trio of Tricks) as (loving) slang for elderly:

Matilda:

You remember that dog who sold t-shirts in Union Square?  Here is the video I posted on May 19th:

And here is the response I got on YouTube:

I gotta say…maybe they are on to something.  Might wanna check it out.  I mean, who knows?

PS  I’m gonna be by for a new t-shirt someday soon.  I’ll be really sad if you aren’t wearing the dog outfit.  But even without it, you’ll always be the dog who sells t-shirts to me.

PS  Did I mention Greg is talented?  He came up with this television show.  It’s inspiring, and I’ll bet some network is gonna pick it up.  It’s that good.  I’m proud.

My brother is one of my best friends.  I’m so lucky to have him.  I just got to see him in Philly (my parents live there), and was reminded how funny, talented and kind he is.

P.S.  He’s single, ladies!  Feel free to send me your bio/pic and I will consider whether you are good enough for him!

and he loves precious animals

Greg and I went out in Philly, and had the best time.  So… you think I’m weird? Meet Greg.  And now picture two Sloan’s out on the scene in Philly.

Dangerous and terrifying?  Yes.  But also kinda AWESOME.

Amongst the “scenes” with which we graced our presence:

a. we crashed a batchlorette party (as soon as he took this picture, Greg, mistaken for a pervert, was forcibly pulled back from the stage…later the owner came up and apologized – he said the security guard was new and didn’t know better – and he gave Greg a free beer)

b.  We met this guy on a motorcycle and his sexy biker chick (they were parked on the sidewalk with the music blaring…and they took requests!)

PS  Greg is a motorcycle expert…he builds ‘em, rides ‘em, can name every single one in a pack speeding by us at 100 MPH.  Once he picked me up in the Bishop McGuinness parking lot after school…just sped in with his bike, right in front of everyone.  I was so cool (for, like, a minute…actually, that was probably my only cool moment in four years of high school)

c. We went to a party (We met these hot girls at a bar, and I acted as wing-woman, like a good sister should…then they invited us to their eighties party.  They all work at FOX in Philadelphia, and they are so fun and sweet)

Then this news broadcaster showed up…he used to do the morning show, now he’s a nightly news guy in Ohio…I mean, you look at him and think cheesy news guy, right?  But he was hilarious…really dark with a sick-ass sense of humor.  And he’s like nine feet tall.  And he overheard me telling greg he must practice witchcraft or bathe in newborn baby blood after I found out how old he was. He thought it was funny. I’ve decided News guys don’t age.

and he told me a kickass story about Barbara Walters, which I'm sure he would not like me blaring on the Internet...it was hearsay, anyway. I don't think I've ever used the word hearsay in a sentence before. Did I use it right?

dude is nine feet tall. i'm not kidding. and he has a champion racehorse. He was there when it was born, and now he actually owns it.

In conclusion (how did this turn into a Freshman English essay?), I had a kickass time with my bro and we partied like it was 1992.  Meaning, we acted like we did in 1992, when we were young enough to actually get away with it. But everyone deserves an immature weekend now and then.

Maya and Greg, BFFs! Don't fuck with Maya, 'cause her brother will kick your ass!