No Sympathy for The Devil

Obviously, if you spend enough time anywhere near Boca Raton, you're going to see some ridiculous shizzle. Let's take for instance, our recent trip to the mall in the heart of the Mouth of The Rat. Sure, we saw plenty of girls wearing frilly sweatshirt-material miniskirts with giant furry Mukluk boots, which is to be expected. We also saw many young men who were clearly "Growing Up Gotti" and had the no sideburns/stromboli spiked hair to show for it. I like to imagine that they use their haircuts till the proverbial soil of the homecoming court before spreading their collective oily demon seed, but then, I'm a dreamer.

Among the Juicy Couture tracksuits and two hundred dollar faux-distressed denim, I heard a tiny bark. As it drew closer, I saw a woman who looked like a Victoria Beckham/Crypt Keeper hybrid pushing a pink baby carriage. As she rolled by on the wind of Yankee Candles and Chik-Fil-A, I peered inside the screened carriage to find her "baby" nestled in a pink Donna Karan blanket. Her baby, of course, was a poodle.

My initial feelings of sadness for this unwilling, pedigreed hellhound subsided when I realized that this dog was wearing a more expensive sweater than me, had a bottle of Evian next to him, and probably gets his ass wiped three times a day by a surly butler named "Montague". Granted, he has to spend every day looking at the botoxed face of evil in the surgically-lifted eye and get smothered with collagen-lipped kisses until he barfs up the filet mignon he had for dinner, but at the end of the day, this dog has a better chance of getting a VIP table on Deco Drive than I could ever dream of.

Maggie

Don't forget - Show this Friday, February 3rd, at The Poorhouse in Ft. Lauderdale. Poodles drink free.