It's been kinda ugly around here today. The slightest thing sets me off; I'm an argument waiting to happen. Beth and I had a good one a few hours ago about why I put a dish on the counter instead of in the sink. Four letter words were exchanged, blood pressures mounted. It's only by the grace of God that a cup wasn't involved too. That could have been deadly.

Could it be because I'm cutting back on my smoking because nicotine inhibits sperm motility and I'm giving a sample tomorrow for Beth's insemination? Could it be because I'm not allowed to "get any" -- manually or otherwise -- until I give the sample so they'll all be fresh and plentiful? Nah...

I'll tell ya... This baby we're trying to have, if we have it, damn well better be a friggin' genius/messiah/world leader/all-around-good-person.

Saturday -- June 19, 1999
My Dog Is So Ugly...

You know that old joke about your dog being so ugly you ought to shave his butt and teach him to walk backwards? Well, backwards-walking lessons are definitely in Suki's future: we had her shaved today.

It gets hot out here in the summer, hotter than elsewhere in our Los Angeles area because we're trapped in a basin that won't let cool air in and intensifies the hot air that's already here. It's usually about 10 degrees warmer here than it is just 10 miles away over the Sepulveda pass. You can feel it as you're driving into L.A. -- you're sweating on your way up the hill, then aaahing with relief as the cool breeze hits you on the way down. It takes a certain kind of grit to come back home on days like that.

Anyway, it gets hot. That's my point. And my other, real, point is that Suki is an Akita, which means that she's got a heavy fur coat and was bred for cooler climes. Summer in the Valley + Suki = a very unhappy dog. She's prone to getting "hot spots," patches of skin under her coat that get itchy, and she obsessively gnaws and licks at them until she's pulled the fur off and turned them into gaping wounds. It's really quite attractive. And then, to make it even nicer, she wanders around leaning on you so you get gooey dogbloodslime on your legs. It's a party, believe me.

So, to forestall all that this year, we had her shaved. And, boy, does she look stupid. They left the fur on her head, forelegs and tail, and shaved her bald everywhere else. She looks like a French Poodle lab experiment gone sadly awry. Either that or a Paris runway model. Gaultier would probably love the look.

I'm tempted to shave my own head to show solidarity, but Beth isn't going for it. She says she hated it last time I did it, said I looked like a cue ball. I don't think it's dawned on her that at the rate I'm losing my hair I'm going to be a cue ball eventually anyway.