The Internet AKA Lionelville

Hey, you guys ever Google yourselves?

Yeah. Me neither. Just checking.

But I mean, if you were to, say, type in “lionel treats”, this web log is like the fifth result (a, uh, a friend told me). How internet famous does that make me? Why don’t you take a look at an abstract of the THIRD result (copied below) and work it out yourself!*

The Smallville Webring: Season Three: Memoria
Lillian tells him she wants a divorce and that she didn’t want another child because she hates how Lionel treats Lex. Later, Lex remembers the night his …
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*As famous as Michael Rosenbaum, who plays Lex Luthor on “Smallville.” He was also the second lead in “Sorority Boys”.

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UPDATE: The Internet is so smart. It only took two hours, but now Google thinks “lionel treats” should take you here. In that spirit, I’m gaming future searches with the following tasty quotables:

“lionel dog”

“lionel cool fun smart likeable”

“lionel awesome kisser”

Doggy Do’s And Doggy Don’t’s

That punctuation looks funny. But you know what? I’m a goddamn dog. You should be impressed my paws n’ claws tap out anything other than sdlkafouel;a;’aa ”asd;gklds;al kl; lfd;sljn;fsak;LLLLLL

Anyway. I didn’t intend for this post to be so negative. Let’s start over.

Many of you have been writing in and asking: “Lionel – if there was one song that really encapsulates what you’re all about, what would it be?”

That’s a tough one, guys. I mean, “Don’t Stop Believing” always gets me up on my hind legs (I’m working on a dance routine to it for Spring Regionals), and like any other pup with two incredibly sensitive ears, I’m a big fan of MJ’s entire catalogue (including “Rock With You” and “The Girl Is Mine 2008″), but lately there’s really only one jam that screams “Lionel” to me:

Li-Only Sunshine

So what? I’m only adorably asleep in a warm puddle of lazy afternoon sunlight. Stop “fawning” over me, guys. Just kidding, just kidding.

But seriously I’m totally rocking a baby deer vibe here.

Busted

What, what do you mean, “Am I hiding anything?” That’s, you know, I resent, I resent the implication. I resent that.

What, these? I don’t know how they got here. Aren’t these part of the bed? They’re what humans sleep on, right? The “pillows” you and Ms. P are always arguing about?

Please don’t take my treats. My precious, delicious, leafy leafy treats.

Naked. Proud.

So today was pretty much your standard day at the T-Bell. Some sprints, some rumps, a messy romp through a puddle – great times, all.

The weird thing, though, is that like half my dawgs were wearing sweaters and vests and puffy little sleeveless numbers. Did someone leave me off the Fall Ball invitation list? Why is everyone dressing so fancy? What happened to having pride in one’s furry nudity?

I feel like it’s not yet the season for such outfits. I mean, sure, once we get down to 35 below, and Lake Ontario’s ice cube winds are slamming us upside the snout, yeah, bring on the poly-filled parkas. But not on October 3rd. Not when it’s plus-15.

(Oh, and one little PS to the cockapoo in the pink jacket with the FUR trim – you do know that some sketchball factory overseas is skinning Lionels for that grisly neck accent, right? You, you know that, right? You do know that…right? Right.)

I’m Never Swimming Again

Since when do sharks attack dogs? Aren’t they just supposed to hunt and devour Robert Shaw and the various children of Amity Island?

When I first heard about this story, I thought “What a brave man, diving into the water to save his pup. I wonder if J or Ms. P would punch a shark in the face to save me from certain death?”

But after J showed me that video of Crazy Eyes boasting about his hammer-dive rescue, I thought “Jesus. No wonder Jake swam into a shark’s mouth. Better luck next time, friend.”