The Real Psycho Paws

THE OTHER NIGHT I WAS AT A PARTY AND HAD EVERYONE ROLLING in laughter over my dog, Sebastian. You could say imagining what he might say at any given time has become a hobby of mine, fueled by the encouragement of family and friends who think I am hilarious.

"Oh my god," Teal said with tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "You need to do a stand up act, seriously."

I had just finished telling them how, most evenings when I get home I am greeted with a sideways glance and what I imagine as, "FUCK YOU, BITCH! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LEFT ME HERE ALL FUCKING DAY IN THIS TINY ASS CONDO!

This is a dog that has torn up doors (both in cars and houses) smashed through windows, eaten screen doors, patio doors, and the shorts of a few neighborhood children and maybe a dog or two. This is a dog that was put on anti-depressants after he was kicked out of a doggie day care a mere 15 minutes after I'd dropped him off.

"Come pick up your dog or we are going to send him to the humane society -- and we'll have you know this is not a no-kill facility," they said.

These days "Bastie" is not the beast he once was. He's super mellow and sweet and never barks. Most of the time he's in bed, only emerging when he hears me cursing at my computer or crying during an especially moving episode of Gray's Anatomy. He'll come out all perked up and say, IS THERE SOMEONE YOU WANT ME TO KILL FOR YOU, MOM? DO YOU WANT ME TO BITE DA COMPUUTR?

(Bastie loves to find a perch where he can keep his eye out for intruders or anyone who needs to be killed).

He's seven now and has a blown knee and will need surgery as soon as mom can come up with the $3000 to pay for it, so I'm starting to see him age. I'm starting to ponder life without him and needless to say, that picture has changed. There were certainly days when I fantasized about it, like those days when I came home to find sawdust where my front door used to be, for starters. But now I can't even imagine where I'd be without the sound of his breathing on the floor next to my bed, the occasional sigh or snore or even whimpering during a bad dream (do dogs dream?).

As shitty as it is, he is the only constant in my life and believe-you-me don't think for one second it's unconditional love. This fricking dog has made me earn it.

write soon please
love,
princess

You Can't Put A Bow On A Pig

A few weeks ago, my friend S. got a text message from a guy she'd been hooking up with that said "Fuck me."

(see i told you i never make this shit up. it's all true!)

You can't knock the guy for being honest, particularly since those two little words say it all about being single in Aspen -- except maybe change the "me" to "you."

S. and Porn Text Guy had taken to shagging in public bathrooms on a somewhat regular basis. It was not as though she had required anything from him for this privilledge, so it's no surprise that he took it totally for granted, or that it was the extent of their relationship. Every once and awhile he acted like he wanted more, but only because he wasn't giving him the attention that he needed, sort of like a baby screaming for a bottle (or a boob). But as soon as she actually went so far as to spend the night at his house, he'd pull out the asshole gun and start shooting her with it just to make sure she wouldn't come back anytime soon. Unless of course, he wanted her to. Then the whole process started all over again, and again, and maybe even again.

The fear of commitment in this valley runs as deep as the record-breaking snow pack did this year. In fact, it would not surprise me at all if the two were totally interconnected.

I have another friend D. who is one of the most impressive women I know. She is ivy league educated and extremely business savvy and ballsy when it comes to her professional life. She has a tough exterior with that biting New York edge and attitude (she'll often hang up the phone without saying goodbye, for example, which always makes me feel stupid for some reason). But when it comes to men, she's as stupid as the rest of us.

"We can park in the garage. I got parking pass because I'm shagging Greg," she told me one day.

"Oh, so is that what we're calling it?" I asked. I knew she'd been seeing Greg for at least six months.

"Yeah, he freaked out because someone referred to me as his girlfriend and he goes, 'Is that what she's calling herself these days?' And I was like, 'You spend four nights a week at my house, dude. What the fuck?'"

Meanwhile, she's chosen to accept that and continues to see this guy regardless.

That provides me with little, if any comfort when confronting my own situation, which is far worse, not only in terms of the time and energy involved, but the person.

The other day I was talking to my neighbor and he was complaining about how our HOA dues keep going up.

"You can't put a bow on a pig," he said,

I couldn't help but notice that the metaphor seems to sum up my latest relstionship exactly.

I'll admit it. I'm desperate. I'm desperate to have something I can call a relationship, to create the closeness, the inner circle like the one I grew up in. Let's face it. My options are limited because I have chosen to live in a mountain town where people go when they want to fuck around and party and ski and play and pretned they're still in college well into their sixties. I know that's true because I see the blue hairs every year on closing day at Ajax dressed in Hawaiian shirts and silly hats, drunk off their asses. I have, on more than one occasion, been propositioned by men at Jimmy's who are old enough to be my grandfather. What's worse, they're so arrogant and cocky they act as though they really think they have a chance.

My options are limited because I've essentially surrounded myself with the same small group of friends since the day I moved into the yellow house on Memorial Day weekend six years ago (anniversary of moving to Aspen right around the corner!). My options are limited because I like people who are a little bit, shall we say, bad. I like being bad. I like being bad all day long sometimes. I got news for you: cheap thrills don't translate to much when you really need someone.

So last weekend I spent the entire weekend with Pig Boy. I ran into him on Friday night at the Fly Lounge and went home early Monday morning after I'd had my fill of fun. Except it really wasn't that much fun.

Whenever we stepped out in public, he immediately distanced himself from me, going so far as to say, "No, we're just friends!" to a girl he was trying to sleep with when she asked him about me, probably because I was sitting there with steam coming out of my ears.

"He was inside me an hour ago," I wanted to say to the girl. But I bit my tongue.

"You love jealousy," he said. "You love it. You try to get me to love it, too. But I don't get jealous."

"I'm not jealous of a woman who is 48 and looks like a transvestite," I said. "I'm annoyed."

The following night we had friends over for dinner. One of them brought a friend who was 23 and 15 pounds overweight with enormous young breasts that were jumping out of her low cut tank top.

"Show me your boobs!" he screamed, taking a swig straight out of the bottle of red wine he was wielding around. He was way past actually pouring it into a glass at this point. I had this image of him swinging it right into the back of her head and killing her by accident.

I went to bed and left in the middle of the night when I woke up and wondered what the hell I was doing there.

On the drive home at 3 a.m. I thought about all the meals I'd cooked for him and the clothes I've bought him and the things I tried to teach him and how inevitably, some other girl will benefit from all those months of hard work and training.

Or maybe not.

Maybe my neighbor has it right. A pig is a pig no matter what they're wearing.

Intercepting Tow Trucks and Other Tales

I WAS WALKING OUT OF THE YOGA STUDIO THE OTHER DAY WHEN I SAW A TOW TRUCK BACKING UP TOWARD MY JEEP.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I cried. "My dog is in there!"

"Do you want to settle this now, then?" the Parking Nazi said. I kept waiting for her to say something like, "This town isn't big enough for the two of us," but she didn't.

I shelled out $390 on the spot, which is precisely the amount of money i don't have, so my account has been kicked into the negative, the bank slamming me with overdraft fees up the wazoo. i am seriously considering taking cash out of every paycheck and putting it in shoe boxes in my room and can see i am heading down that road to crazyladydom. it's a good thing i hate cats! i am, however, considering a life of crime. there's no way i'm ever going to get ahead in this town fair-and-square. i gotta figure out a way to steal or cheat or someting.

THE GOOD NEWS IS I'M WORKING AGAIN, SORT OF. went down to boulder to meet with the guys and gals from SPYDER who are doing some pretty cool stuff with the whole mountain bike freeride movement, creating all kinds of technical-but-cool apparel for DH mountain biking -- stuff like soft armor that's built into chamois shorts that can be worn under board shorts. it was so weird being back in boulder. i can't believe i went to college there FOURTEEN YEARS AGO! it was the time of my life, to be sure, and i miss it.

i managed to squeezse in two Bikram yoga classes, one at esok's studio on the northeast side of town, and one on The Hill above Tulagi's that happens to be owned by one of the girls i went to teacher training with. both were very HOT. i love to visit other studios when i go out of town. the global network is one of the best things about it. i would love to travel one day and visit some of the studios in faraway places ....

HIGHLANDS CLOSES FOR THE SEASON ON SUNDAY and i'm looking forward to getting loose and celebrating the season with my friends, drinking beer in the sun and just doing what we do. a big thanks to the Ski Co and AHSP for giving us two extra weekends of exactly the kind of spring conditions that was missing all season....

that's all she wrote.
princess xoxo

Making Headlines

i know i probably shouldn't be proud of it, but i made it into the april fool's addition of the aspen daily news.

http://www.aspendailynews.com/section/home/city-council-settles

the ADN is the "other" paper, as amazing as it is that there are two daily rags in such a small town. they are in direct competition with The Aspen Times, but not with me. in fact, after reading today's paper, i'm beginning to think i'd fit in a lot better over there, what, with the drunks and the ski bunnies and the young, recluse spirit that totally came through yet again this april fool's. also very cool that they are one of the last true independent dailies in the country. too bad they can't afford me.

not much else to report, really. i'm kind of bored and lost and don't know what to focus my energies on. my career still hasn't picked up and i'm dying to get back to writing but just don't know what to write. thinking about revisiting my aspen novel one more time and just doing it my way. the first few drafts were under the guidance of my agent. while she knows what's commerically viable, she doesn't really know my voice quite yet. i know that were i to provide her with something good, she'd be able to sell it.

like a lot of writers, i'm just not sure where to start.

anyways thanks to all of you who expressed concern about my dad, it means a lot. he's recouperating in steamboat and doing fine. we expect he'll make a full recovery but that won't do him much good if he doesn't SLOW DOWN because my mom made it clear she'll kill him unless he does.

write me. i miss you.
love,
princess

Hurry Up And Wait

so this morning i tried to drive into aspen for a 9 a.m. yoga class and got shut down.

if you don't live in downtown aspen, then you're not part of the club, baby.

no, you're outside of the pearly gates, in purgatory or maybe even hell, waiting to see if you can get in. during a snowstorm, that could take up to an hour, and by that point you're either too late or too frazzled to get where you were going anyway.

that's how my day started, innocently enough, trying to get to a sillly yoga class with a foot of new snow on the ground. i knew all my friends who live in aspen were probably already on the gondola, but i didn't even bother brining my board. yoga is what i really want to be doing right now anyway--i'm craving that heat. plus, i needed some time to unwind.

last night i received a call from my mom who is costa rica on a cycling tour with my dad. apparently, he hit a sharp turn at high speed, went off the road and crashed, sustaining major head injuries. when mom called they were in a private hospital in san jose where he had been diagnosed with a fractured skull and broken nose. they were concerned about the bleeding/swelling in his brain and the loss of vision in his right eye.

the first thing i thought of was, "if he dies, he will have never seen me get married or have babies." how heart breaking. how sad. the questions is for him, or for me? and how narcissistc can i get?

my love life is back on the rocks after another failed attempt to make something of nothing. having such an active imagination works against me sometimes. but you probably knew that before i did.

hey is anyone bothering to read this? i'm so into it i want to write all tbe time. but it would be nice to know you're out there.

in terms of aspen's horrendous traffic problem, i'm just wondering if we can dedicate just one summer charity season toward raising money for a rail system. with the millions of dollars that get tossed around this place i would think the art people and the buddy people can probably contribute the proceeds of their over the top six-figure gala for one year, assuming they even want to grant access into their exclusive little club. therein lies the problem, i suppose.

i talked to my dad this morning and he's going to be fine. he's coherent enough to flirt with the pretty Tica nurses and try to speak spanish with them. apparently he's using a spanish accent and starting every sentence with "how you say ..." and driving my mom crazy. he's supposed to stay in the hosptial for at least another three or four days, but (surprise) the quality of care there is much better than the U.S. he's in a private hospital that rivals the Four Seasons (according to my brother who is there with them), the doctors are fabulous, and the cost is a small fraction of what he'd be looking at here.

i guess they got even more of a cultural experience than they bargained for when they signed up for their bike trip. my dad is not the only one who needs to SLOW DOWN.

meanwhile, it doesn't look like it's going to ever stop snowing. maybe i should point it the other way and head down valley toward snowmass where the pearly gates are always open.

love,
AP