How to Convince your Boyfriend to Sleep with your Dog

Brunettes can doubt themselves like everyone else. They can wake suddenly in bed wondering if things are going to be alright. In the middle of last night, I woke up in a sweat. Okay, my petite little fan had turned off but, suffice it to say, I was really happy to have my dog sitting next to me. I pet his head and tickled his cute 7lb. belly and I promptly fell back to sleep.

In the morning, I woke up in my pink polka dot sheets. My sweet dog, Valentino, was sleeping right beside me.

The issue: Boys who dislike doggies in their Girl's bed
If a girl's dog is an indoor doggie not romping through mega rain puddles or tramping through dumpsters, tell me boys, what's wrong with the little guy sleeping on top of your toes at night?

Girls, You Make the Rules
Let's get this straight style agents, Don't be a push-over! Most guys that I've dated, including Mr. Cop, have made up rules about dogs sleeping in the backyard or at least rules kicking my dog out of my room. How it starts is the boy is trying to get to know your lifestyle, he meets the dog, and then casually, sooner or later, he asks:

BOY
(devil-ish all knowing grin)
Hey, where does the dog sleep?

MISS BRUNETTE
Why?

BOY
Just asking...
(Sip of coffee. Ever so gently he sets the cup down and looks at Miss Brunette)

MISS BRUNETTE
(not hungry or thristy anymore)
No, it's fine. He sleeps in my room.

BOY
In your bed?
(nose turned up)
The dog sleeps in your bed?

The inner voice is saying-what?! This is all that has to happen. Pick up your purse and leave the boy at the cafe. Or, promptly kick the boy from your room, kicked'em out the front door, and delete'em from your cell phone.

Maybe it's just too easy to dump guys based on a dog.

Boyfriends are Different.
Mr. Cop has mentioned to me that Valentino should sleep in a, gulp, a kennel. I can't image it? Valentino, the little guy that was so cute sleeping on a pillow beside me last night, stuck in a a kennel....hmm.. Jimminie Crickets! Mr. Cop is way to hot & sexy to just dump. I think I'll have to go undercover to work this to my favor. Here is my plan and I offer it you dear brunettes and style agents alike.

Operation Doggie Slumber Party

Here is a task list that will be put into effect once Mr. Cop & I are living together.

1. Regular doggie baths. Sorry, Valentino but it is for the greater good.
2. Never buy a kennel. That's a great first start.
3. Bonding time. Mr. Cop needs to get cozy with Valentino quick.
4. Doggie PJ's. It might sound quack but a cute set of doggie nightgowns might just save the night.
5. Talk about it. The pathway to public understanding is get it out there. Tell friend's & family, neighbors, even tell a postal worker, just talk about the cozy nights of sleep you get with your pooch. Pretty soon there's a trend sweeping the nation and your boyfriend starts to get it!

My plan is so simple that it is like clockwork. I can't wait to win! Really, I have to say, everyone wins. Boyfriends & husbands and their girl's doggies can all just get along.

Happy Dreams & Nonsense

My happy dreams of last night weren't just of Elvis holding teddy bears. I dreamt that I had woke in my dream to being in bed. This is like something Oprah would talk about as astral projection or something. I woke up in my dream & I realized that my bed was rolling around the streets of NYC. Strange, I know. I was laughing & so happy as the bed surfed though intersections & made rights on quite Chelsea brownstone streets.




Cut to:
Disneyland.

I was traveling with an old man and the young asian boy from Indian Jones & the Temple of Doom. We were in midst of a beautiful adventure that felt as safe as a trip with Disneyland. We were walking through haunted manisons and through underwater cities. We were captured by wonder with the details of these places.

And then I woke up smiling. It sounds absolutely silly but I woke myself with laughter before, which had been more frightening. This time I was so well rested, I felt at complete peace and I had a smile on my face. These are all the small signs of life walking in alignment with purpose. None of these dreams made much sense to me, mostly a bunch of nonsense, but at the end of a long cognitive day, with a brow of heavy sleep, and morning sweeping across the Californian land. It is not so much the dream as it is the feeling. I felt great and I wasn't even worried about traffic, work, or my love life. I just felt damn good. It was a happy end to a night of dreams and a yet more brilliant awakening. I like to cherish the small gifts of life.

The Gift of Giving

If you can't make out this image by plain lack of confusion, it's an overloaded cart filled with books. More importantly, notice that the cart is pointed toward the light at the end of the tunnel that leads to my parked car sitting outside the storage structure. One quick car ride later and I'm at the curb of the Salvation Army where I will begin to give away hundreds of books.

OMG!
I'm giving my library away to move in with a guy that lives in a different city, mind you a different country, and I still haven't found myself thinking that I am crazy. This must be some sort of man that has rocked my world. As my best friend, the Red Menace has put it blankly, When you meet the right one that's how it should be. Fast and quick. None of that dating for years to find out that you really aren't crazy for'em. I think that if I had listened to that deep down little voice I might have saved myself years of agony and boredom. I'm listening to my voice that says, Throw your stuff out. Move to Toronto. Kiss the boy that you love.

Moving
I hate moving. I'm notorious for my belly-flop attempts at moving. Ask my sister about the move from Chicago to Orange County. The night before my awesome sister arrived at Midway airport. I hadn't really packed anything and I got, um..., to put it politely, trashed. In fact, I was so hung-over the next day that I forgot to pick my sister up at the airport! Yeah, I know, miss brunette is a loser. Five hours later, I wake up with panic. I drive like hell to the airport and find my sister wrapped up in a Mexican blanket sleeping in the baggage terminal. As it goes, some family adopted my sister, gave her a blanket because it was four days before Christmas, and ultimately couldn't stick around for the beat down my sister was going to give me because they had a flight to catch. She didn't say a word until she got to my place and realized that I hadn't really packed. I had to call all my friends over and I paid two homeless guys, known in Chicago as Junkers which is a step up from wino and darelicks, to help me pack and move my stuff. My sister didn't stop yelling and raving about how awful I am not just as a sister for not picking her up at the airport but for not packing. The car ride to California would have been brutal if I hadn't bought a harmonica and the urban cowboy soundtrack. Oh the drama of moving!

Dilemma
I'm checking my calendar. One week and four days. I actually made it to my storage unit. I'm actually giving my stuff away.

But first, does anyone understand dreams? Ever since I visited Thomas Jefferson's house as a little girl I have dreamt of having a place just like it. The bigger dream, of course, is to build a library. My dream doesn't stop with the mere acquisition of books but my dream includes a very public donation to some humble public library in order to get a little plaque above the water foutain that says:

Somewhere Public Library hereby declares the greatest thanks to Miss Brunette for the largest collection of pink covered books in the nation.

I know I'm not asking for too much.

At the storage unit yesterday, I rummaged through all of my books. Most of the titles that I gave away were the easy to replace, as common as hitting a thrift store, books. Faded paperback covers, acid yellow page leafs, or taped book spines were also books that were added to the cart. The mound grew tirelessly. I whittled away books to the point that what remains is somewhat near a stack as tall and as wide as my shapely figure. I'm still not near being done. This was at the storage unit, not my computer room and my bedroom. Ask Mr. Cop about the house. He knows there's a bunch of stuff there but he never got to first hand witness my junk at the storage unit. Its best that he doesn't know everything.

Ford Explorer seeks U-haul trailer for a good time
It's time to rent the U-haul and things get crazy. At the U-haul website, things seemed good. I put all my info in the fields. I click the get quote field. What?! No, what?@#! U-haul won't rent a trailer to me. Shoot! I backpedal to the get quote page. I decide that I'll rent a truck for the 2515 mile drive to Mr. Cop's hometown. Okay price breakdown:

Car Trailer: $437
10' U-haul truck: $1,800
Gas: $Outrageous gas mileage for a U-haul Truck

Not an option for the stuff that I have. Most of it had been bought at Unique Thrift on the South Side. Hmm...

I told Mr. Cop and he couldn't believe that they wouldn't rent a trailer for my car. A 10' U-haul truck would too large, I said, which isn't really the truth but I do have a bunch of junk to get rid of so that is the truth.

MR. COP

Just pack your car up and throw the rest out.

(long silence as Miss Brunette thinks about all the stuff she has collected that she really feels is part of her life)

MISS BRUNETTE

Ah, okay. Sure. I'll try to do that.

Brunette Confidential Rule #5: Mortality is a bitch. You can't take it with you when you die.

HHonesty, I think this is the best possible thing I could be doing for myself. Throwing stuff away, giving things to shelters, and packing only essentials is the best possible thing I could be doing for myself. I never realized what a gift it is to yourself to pass things forward. I feel like I'm opening myself up to the opportunity to recreate a new sense of myself.

My stuff has been in storage for a year. I can recall when the movers arrived at my storage unit in Orange County. The driver said to me:

DRIVER

Why didn't you just throw all of this stuff away? Start Over? Isn't that what you're doing by moving?

I shrugged it off at the time and spent over a $1500 bucks renting the storage unit for two years.

Today, I'll be cracking the crypt to toss things that I haven't seen since my last days in Chicago. Time to let things go. Time to reinvent. Time to get to the storage unit.

The Book File: The Quick Escape

THE QUICK ESCAPE

If you've been watching a bit too much Dr. 90210, maybe its time to escape from mid-summer ruts. Here's a quick peek at five books that might get you off the couch and out into the world of adventure.

No.1



I love Alain de Bottom! His wit & incite have made it necessary for me to read most of his books! One day, I'll have read them all. This book is next on the my book list.

LIBRARY JOURNAL

An experienced traveler and the author of five books, including How Proust Can Change Your Life, De Botton here offers nine essays concerning the art of travel. Divided into five sections "Departure," "Motives," "Landscape," "Art," and "Return" the essays start with one of the author's travel experiences, meander through artists or writers related to it, and then intertwine the two. De Botton's style is very thoughtful and dense; he considers events of the moment and relates them to his internal dialog, showing how experiences from the past affect the present. In "On Curiosity," for example, which describes a weekend in Madrid, De Botton compares his reliance on a very detailed guidebook to the numerous systematic measurements Alexander von Humboldt made during his 1799 travels in South America. De Botton compares Humboldt's insatiable desire for detail with his own ennui and wish that he were home. There are also details about a fight over dessert, the van Gogh trail in Provence, and Wordsworth's vision of nature. Although well written and interesting, this volume will have limited popular appeal. Recommended for larger public libraries. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 3/15/02.] Alison Hopkins, Brantford P.L., ON Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.

No.2
Argh! Tis find a treasure with a shipmate named Captain Barry! Why not find a bit of retreat at the bottom of the ocean!

FROM THE PUBLISHER
Obsessed by a boyhood dream of lost pirate treasure, Barry Clifford launched a search for the pirate ship Whydah, which supposedly wrecked on the coast of Cape Cod. Very quickly he realized that he had taken on a daunting task. Others who had tried to find the ship before him had failed. Although locals came forward with gold coins and relics that could only have come from the lost pirate ship, skeptics claimed that the ship didn't really exist or had been picked over by Cape Cod's early settlers more than two hundred years ago when it sank. Ignoring claims that he was a fool and a dreamer, Clifford pressed on, until he found the Whydah. ... And then the story begins. Effortlessly weaving pirate Black Sam Bellamy's history with his own story, Clifford tells a tale of pursuit and perseverance, one that shows our inseparable link to the stories of our childhood as well as our connection to the historic past. Expedition Whydah tells two equally enthralling stories of obsession: Bellamy's tale of hard work and crafty piracy, and Clifford's own unbelievable quest to fulfill his dream of finding the sunken ship and building a museum to house her relics. What emerges is a fascinating portrait of a long-gone era of unimaginable adventure - and brutality - and a look at two determined men, one from the past, the other from the present, who let nothing get in the way of their goals.

No.3
What brunette doesn't want to wander through a bit of wine country & meet all the misfits that make wine!

FROM THE PUBLISHER

What is taste? Is it individual or imposed on us from the outside? Why are so many of us so intimidated when presented with the wine list at a restaurant? In The Accidental Connoisseur, journalist Lawrence Osborne takes off on a personal voyage through a little-known world in pursuit of some answers. Weaving together a fantastic cast of eccentrics and obsessives, industry magnates and small farmers, the author explores the way technological change, opinionated critics, consumer trends, wheelers and dealers, trade wars, and mass market tastes have made the elixir we drink today entirely different from the wine drunk by our grandparents.

In his search for wine that is a true expression of the place that produced it, Osborne takes the reader from the high-tech present to the primitive past. From a lavish lunch with wine tsar Robert Mondavi to the cellars of Marquis Piero Antinori in Florence, from the tasting rooms of Chateau Lafite to the humble vineyards of northern Lazio, Osborne winds his way through Renaissance palaces, $27 million wineries, tin shacks and garages, opulent restaurants, world-famous chais and vineyards, renowned villages and obscure landscapes, as well as the great cities which are the temples of wine consumption: New York, San Francisco, Paris, Florence, and Rome. On the way, we will be shown the vast tapestry of this much-desired, little-understood drink: who produces it and why, who consumes it, who critiques it? Enchanting, delightful, entertaining, and, above all, down to earth, this is a wine book like no other.

No.4

Get off the map! Leave the strip malls behind & hit the road with Lawerence O.

FROM THE PUBLISHER
From the theme resorts of Dubai to the jungles of Papua New Guinea, a disturbing but hilarious tour of the exotic east—and of the tour itself Sick of producing the bromides of the professional travel writer, Lawrence Osborne decided to explore the psychological underpinnings of tourism itself. He took a six-month journey across the so-called Asian Highway—a swathe of Southeast Asia that, since the Victorian era, has seduced generations of tourists with its manufactured dreams of the exotic Orient. And like many a lost soul on this same route, he ended up in the harrowing forests of Papua, searching for a people who have never seen a tourist. What, Osborne asks, are millions of affluent itinerants looking for in these endless resorts, hotels, cosmetic-surgery packages, spas, spiritual retreats, sex clubs, and "back to nature" trips? What does tourism, the world's single largest business, have to sell? A travelogue into that heart of darkness known as the Western mind, The Naked Tourist is the most mordant and ambitious work to date from the author of The Accidental Connoisseu r, praised by The New York Times Book Review as "smart, generous, perceptive, funny, sensible."

No.5

A fine short story collection is the perfect escape with a tight time schedule. It's terrible when the summer is too work related. Slow down! Enjoy life!

PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

Since Salon.com shut down its Wanderlust section earlier this year (there weren't enough page views to satisfy investors) and since George, the section's editor, has been reduced to contributing a weekly column, this collection preserves in print articles that were likely to become Internet ephemera. The 40 stories are tuned for the computer-screen reader: they are all quick, attention-grabbing, first-person narratives--as short and direct as a shot of espresso. One-third come from well-known writers, including a handful of brand-name travel writers such as Jan Morris, Peter Mayle, Pico Iyer, Tim Cahill and even Tony Wheeler, the founder of the Lonely Planet guidebooks. The others come from Salon's multifaceted contributors, many of whom have published books of their own. The best work here uses irony to convey the complex nature of travel in the age of the Internet, when much of the world is only a mouse click away. Rolf Potts's story "Storming the Beach," for example, contains daily e-mail dispatches about the author's attempt to replicate the events of Alex Garland's novel The Beach by substituting the fictional beach with the actual Thai beach where a film of the novel is being shot. "The Last Tourist in Mozambique" details Mary Roach's discovery that it is easier to get the country's president to talk about transcendental meditation than it is to convert dollars into local currency. Salon has always been a self-consciously literary Web site, so it is no surprise that these stories survive the transition from the computer screen to the printed page. But the shutdown of the site's Wanderlust section may limit the readership for this pleasant anthology. (Nov.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

What Happens in Vegas, Never Stays in Vegas

Life does offer the spontaneous fulfillment of desire through miraclous coincidences. It's as simple as a fresco inside the Indiana Jone's ride at Disneyland.

Life offers a door, a wee window of opportunity, in which the seeker tends to knock with his eyes closed and is yet, somehow, guided by an internal, perhaps more enlightened sense, a third eye if you will. Within the passing of a few seconds, that open possibility, that opportunity to change and to discover the dreams within a real universe, is there to become tangible.

As it happened, my single girl life began to change once I walked through a certain hotel door at Mandalay Bay. One result of meeting such a wonderful guy is that I haven't been posting as much, please excuse me dear reader! I did just return from a week in Mr. Cop's hometown, Toronto, and I'm in the process of, I do believe, a life change. And it was writing an email to an awesome Cowgirl in Chicago that I started thinking about the strange chances that happen in life and in the end those very strange chances is what make life what it is.


TO:Miss Cowgirl@chicago.com
FROM:BrunetteConfidential@gmail.com

Miss Cowgirl! I'm so happy to hear from you! If you want to hear the full scoop on my life check out http://www.brunetteconfidential.com I’ve been so busy that I haven’t updated it since the end of June. The main excitement is that I met a fab guy in Vegas! It sounds so random, which is how life is, that it ended up as an affair that didn’t stay in Vegas (mind you-all that happen was single kiss)! In the meantime, he has visited me for two weeks and I just returned last week from visiting him in his home town-Toronto! I’m actually in the process of moving to Toronto to be with him! Wild & crazy! I guess I’m not too old yet-but let’s not talk about any future birthdays! HAHA! I’m applying to film production companies & looking to do anything with my styling skills. Know any photo studios up that way? I hope that things are going really well with you!


Cheers,
Miss Brunette


Hey-did you know that Mr. Never Was is having a baby? Funny thing, Mr. Never Was & his girlfriend/soon to be wife conceived the baby in Vegas from what he told me. Nothing truly stays in Vegas, does it? Tell me what you’ve been up to! Miss you tons!