Pimp Daddy Rod

HERE'S a word of advice: if you want attention from a girl, get a puppy.

I recently brought Roddick to the Michigan-Notre Dame pregame festivities, where it finally dawned on me that my puppy had magical powers to make girls scream, cry, smile, and hit the big O, usually all that the same time. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Ann Arbor or the wildness of game day, WAKE UP, cause you're definitely missing out on life. Home games at the Big House always result in tens of thousands of people drinking from the crack of dawn until they enter the stadium, usually around noon or 3:30pm. What this ultimately translates to are a bunch of drunken freshmen who can't stand and mobs of girls dolled up in personalized maize and blue attire rolling from party to party looking for a good time.

Such large masses of girls have an uncanny ability to spot certain things: ex-boyfriends, the bathroom, the iPod so they can change the music to Britney Spears, and, as I have come to realize, puppies. Like the calm before the storm, you can feel them looking you up and down, eying the leash, then traveling down to a white fluff ball, at which point they will let out a banshee squeal and without a doubt ask, "CAN I PLEASE PET YOUR PUPPY?"

Case in point! Thanks for the picture Patty haha.

Now here's the tricky part, which is something I don't think anyone really thinks about when they assume with dog comes ass. Yes, my dog is a chick magnet, I get it. Yes, he can get the poon-tang to come, sure. But really, it's your job to get it to stay. You only get a 10-30 second window to make your move and get to know a girl --which is probably about the same amount of time at a bar-- before it's too late and she's making out with the guy next to you. Great practice for flirting on the spot, which, let's be honest, everyone could use a little more work in that department.

People have been congratulating me for getting such a chick magnet, even asking to borrow him to score some chicks. Now, before I start pimping out my own dog for everyone's libido booster, you also have to understand that the puppy isn't what will actually get the girl, it's you. Yeah, puppy = pimp, and pimp = cute girls (unless you're in Detroit, trick). However, cute girls + you with no personality = jack shit, so it can't be your only crutch. Much like guys who think that a nice car or designer clothes will buy happiness, they end up realizing that it's really about the person inside that people are interested in. I know, sappy dating advice, but it's true. The puppy is amazing for an ice breaker, but if you're expecting an instant hookup then you might as well just blow yourself, ya fool.

So, in closing, do I think my dog is a pimp? Yes. Has he been the reason for hookups? Maybe, but the last I checked she was with me while Roddick was in his cage, watching (creepy... another blog entry, perhaps??).

Now, before I go into crude jokes about "petting the puppy" and "playing fetch the ball(s)" I think I'll just leave you with a potential Halloween costume for Roddick this year:

At the Beginning...

AS I type this first entry, Roddick, my new puppy, is sticking his wet nose on my computer screen with an undying curiosity as to where the clicking sounds are coming from. He is my first puppy, and yes this is my first blog.

Though I have often chastised people for writing blogs, I guess I have finally found a reason for creating one. In a cyber world where millions of tweets and status updates are posted every hour, I know this will only just one thing you might check after your email-facebook-espn-sporcle routine, but if you do I promise you won't regret it. This will not be a blog of "Roddick learned how to play dead today!" or "Guess what I found in Roddicks poop!" but more so of the insights he has and hopefully will continue to provide me as I raise him. I guess you can call it a version of Marley and Me, but let's be honest, if you've met my puppy he's infinitely cooler. If anything, I will continually post pictures up of my puppy to make your heart melt by sheer cuteness.

I got Roddick at a Rescue Shelter two weeks ago, when he was just 8 weeks old. My father, or as I like to call him, Papa Yu, had promised me a dog if I had gotten into Stuyvesant High School, an elite prep school in New York. Nearly 9 dog-less years later, I think it's safe to say he dropped the ball.

I had just graduated college, traveled a bit, and got a job that allowed me to stay in Ann Arbor, MI. As I got comfortable with my newfound adult life and a thing called "responsibility," I thought it would be the perfect time to get a dog. Yeah, while you still haven't figured your own life out, why be the sole provider of another living being? Best and stupidest decision I have made in years.

Having sent in application after application to adoption agencies with no response, I decided to go on petfinder.com and look up rescue shelters. Not within 2 minutes I found a litter of 6 Border Collide/Australian Shepherd pups waiting to find a home. An hour later, Janie Deegan, a good friend of mine from home, and I were in my car driving to South Lyon, MI to meet the puppies. Needless to say, throughout the entire car ride all we could talk about were puppies, with giant grins on our faces.

When we got there, a tiny white dog with black spots around his eyes ran up to me. All his siblings seemed to give a rat's ass that we showed up. It was a sign he was the one!... or at least, I took it as a sign because I'm a sap for things like that. The process was remarkably easy. Deposit for the night, come back tomorrow to pick him up, $175 in cash (which all goes towards rescue fees). We drove back to Ann Arbor, directly to PetCo, where it suddenly dawned on me that I had no idea what I was doing. Doggy shampoo? Heartworm medicine? Puppy training pads? Shit. I bought nothing but a toy for him to play with on the ride home, and went home with the same thought that occurs after you wake up with your best friends girlfriend in your bed -- you know... "What the fuck was I thinking?"

Luckily, my momentary regret subsided and I got to work. I puppy proofed my new home (which is immensely difficult if you had just moved in two days ago, by the way) and read dozens of websites on puppy obedience training and though I'm slightly ashamed to admit, the online version of "Puppies... for dummies." Armed with newspapers for potty training, a crate to bring him home in, and a towel to keep him comfortable in the meanwhile, I picked him up and tried to bring him home. He wouldn't get into the car of course, so I had him chase me around the yard for 5 minutes to wear him out. Note to self, I need to start working out again... that fucker is definitely going to outrun me one day.

ANYWAYS... fast forward to today. Roddick just jumped on my laptop and attempted to eat it. This is my life now. Anything and everything could be destroyed and everytime he drops his tail could mean an impending whizz of urine on my rug. I've become one of those people that see impending doom around every corner. In other words, now I know what it feels to be a father, except it's moderately okay to let your puppy roll down the stairs and let's just say you can't necessarily do that with a child. Fatherhood has defnitely taught me so many things which I intend on sharing in the coming weeks and hopefully you will still want to read on.

I'm going to try and send this out to all my friends from high school and college, along with the all the interesting randoms I've met along the way. Family and friends, and maybe even coworkers. I hope you all enjoy reading some part of this blog, which after this entry I have decided will be a sort of mix between:

-Ridiculous things Roddick does
-Insights on raising a puppy
-Tips and pointers for future dog owners
-A way to keep in touch
-Photo documentation of Roddick
-Random thoughts on life.

I've never really had a reason to start a blog in the first place, but hopefully Roddick will supply ample inspiration. And to end this blog, below are pictures of the puppy. Welcome to... THE CHRONICLES OF RODDICK!