Tag Archives: 90’s tv shows

The Tail of the Bald Puppy

This is a story of how a puppy ruined my life. And not just any puppy. An ugly, wrinkled, bald puppy. An ugly, wrinkled, bald puppy who doesn’t even know proper butt sniffing etiquette.

But I get ahead of myself. First allow me to introduce myself. Or re-introduce, as the case may be. You may remember me from the last time I took over Aprill’s blog. I’m Buffy, her long-suffering male dog.

Oh yes, you read that right…MALE dog. Apparently being a Joss Whedon fan means you no longer have to acknowledge gender when coming up with a pet name to impress your stupid, geeky friends. Never mind the psychological damage you inflict on said poor animal when the Duke’s and Princess’s of the world get wind of the name. Dogs may be man’s best friend but they can be complete assholes to their own kind (butt sniffing is not nearly as innocent an act as you guys assume). You’d think taking my manhood when I was a puppy (a PUPPY, for canine’s sake!) would be enough emasculation for any creature but oh, oh no. Let’s also add a frilly name from an obsolete 90’s show that only people with extensive knowledge of their parent’s basement watched.

Not that I’m bitter or anything.

But back to the bigger issue.

Now, when they first brought the bald puppy home, I thought it was great. My very own interactive chew toy! Complete with neverending battery! And super gross smells!

Unfortunately, within the first 30 seconds of our initial meeting, it was made clear to me, in no uncertain terms, that this was not the case. I swear, that stupid crying lump’s first words are going to be “Buffy” followed by “No” followed by “I said ‘no,’ dammit!”

Buffy 1

And things only went downhill from there. For instance, every time the bald puppy cried (which was A LOT, by the way), I would growl and bark. In my mind, the only reason for any creature to make that much noise is when there is an imminent threat to all of our very lives, such as the neighbor from three houses down had closed a door or the wind blew through a tree in Delaware. So I was simply trying to help the bald puppy alert our owners that there was obviously an emergency on hand, such as the mailman was on our porch and was probably going to pee on all the spots in the yard I had peed on.

Incredibly courteous of me, right?

Alas, Loud One and Spiky Head (my not-so-affectionate nicknames for my owners) didn’t see it this way. I was told, rather rudely, to shut the hell up and then threatened with not just a rolled up magazine but a rolled up September Vogue magazine (the leading cause of concussions in dogs).

Meanwhile, the bald puppy, who was making just as much noise as I was (if not more) was cuddled and actually rewarded for his whiny bark with food!


My very favorite thing in the entire world besides BALL and ROLLING AROUND IN DEAD THINGS!

Can you believe it?

And as if all that wasn’t bad enough, when I wasn’t getting yelled at, I was being completely ignored. Judging by the smell, the bald puppy was going potty every hour or something insane like that. Inside the freaking house! Which is something I’ve never been allowed to do if I don’t want to see the business end of the Sunday Times. They even put a wonderful poo catcher on his butt so he could do it whenever he wanted. And I’m all just over here, like, hey, I haven’t gone outside in 14 hours. But don’t mind me. I’ll just slunk off to the corner and eat my dog food…oh wait, my bowl is empty.


Buffy 2

It was getting ridiculous.

So then, deciding to make nice with the bald puppy, who was obviously here to stay, I began licking his face (mainly aiming for directly into the mouth, of course) whenever he happened to be within tongue’s reach. And I tell you what, I would get no more than six licks in when Loud One would suddenly push me away.

Knock it off, she said.

Buff, that’s gross, she said.

Well, let me tell you something, lady. You’re gross. Not to mention a hypocrite. I’ve seen you stick your tongue down Spiky Head’s throat many a time so you can just get off your high horse.

But before you go thinking that my owners are just absolutely horrible people, I should mention that they are trying to make it up to me. I get extra treats all the time now and during those brief moments when the bald puppy is asleep in his giant crate, they shower me with love.

And in their defense, they do look horrible these days.

Buffy 3

I’m starting to think they’re being punished by the bald puppy just as much as I am. Apparently he is the new Alpha and we all exist merely to satisfy his every whim (even if that whim is to walk him in a giant counterclockwise circle for three hours while singing “Close To You” by the Carpenters at 3 a.m.).

But let this be a lesson to all you other dogs out there. If your female owner starts to look like she has a giant ball hidden underneath her shirt, RUN.

Run away as fast as you can.

And hide out in the neighbor’s yard until the bald puppy is old enough to start dropping food on the floor.

Two guys, a girl and not a DVD to be found

The life of a writer is tough. I mean, after so many months, you run out of movies and TV series on Netflix to distract you from the fact that you should actually be spending your time writing.

Which means you now actually have to write.

And no self-respecting writer actually wants to write.

Hell, most of us just do it because it’s easier than data-entry or flipping burgers.

So, we writers are endlessly looking for other ways to distract ourselves from creating the next Mediocre American Novel. And thanks to the whole 90’s nostalgia wave sweeping the country currently and my “never say die” attitude when it comes to procrastination, I have found a new way.

Why the hell can’t you find “Two Guys, A Girl and a Pizza Place” on DVD? Or Netflix, for that matter? Or, well, pretty much anywhere?

For those of you that don’t remember the show (or are too young to remember…which, if you are, get the hell off my blog, you make me feel old), “Two Guys, A Girl and A Pizza Place” (which was later changed to “Two Guys and a Girl”…because the TV execs apparently finally realized a TV show title should not resemble a haiku…in length or form) was a show that ran from 1998 to 2001 on ABC. From what my old ass remembers about it, it was a good show, not great, but highly entertaining.

But more IMPORTANTLY, it is the show where not one, but TWO of my imaginary husbands got their start. The sitcom featured both Ryan Reynolds and Nathan Fillion as main characters.

I mean, I looked everywhere for this show. To no avail. Even Amazon, which has a page for the “complete DVD set,” has the disclaimer, “when becomes available.” Apparently, whichever company owns the rights to it now doesn’t think it would sell well.

Even the Internet pirates let me down. The only place I could find episodes, besides a few 15 minute, low quality videos on YouTube, was some scary eastern European-ish (or possibly Martian, judging by the language) website, which had the first season, but no dice on the other three (which I’m not linking here for fear the TV gods will go on the war path and take it down).

Now, granted, a lot of my frustration stems from the fact I am of the Internet generation, where we literally can have everything at our fingertips. Any information, any image, any video. So the fact that I can’t have something makes me want to throw a Generation Y-sized tantrum.

And so, I say we Gen Yers and Xers no longer stand for this. We want the crappy, laugh-track sitcoms from our youth and we want them NOW. So let’s flood the Internet with our demand for more Berg! And Sharon! And that guy on the left that no one can ever remember the name of!

It is our instant-gratification, self-entitled RIGHT!

Plus, I think we can all agree the world needs even more scenes of a shirtless Ryan Reynolds.

P.S. Between obsessively trying to track down episodes, I did do SOME actual writing. So for you suckers hard-working people with actual jobs that want to waste even more time, you can check out my latest two posts for the Weekly Dig, where I bastardize the Bard’s work after seeing Shakespeare in the Park and get all gangster on a trolley. And, of course, my latest Advocate humor column, where I reveal my brilliant new plan to make new friends based solely on their pop culture preferences (you Next Gen Trekkers are in…Original Series? Hit the road, loser).