Why should Apple get to have all the fun? Since you humans possess an incessant requirement for new technology, I figured it was high time for good old Tiki to cash in. Get ready to wait outside all night in the freezing cold (and hopefully rain), drop down 700 big ones (my price point is a bit higher than Apple’s), for what many pundits are labeling the greatest technological game changer since Friendster.

Aside from cost, there are few similarities between the tPhone’s features and most of those found on other smart phones. For example, the current build of the tPhone is screenless. The tPhone is all about end-user experience, we’ve done away with the superfluous add ons so commonly seen on smartphones. There is no qwerty keyboard, or actually any keyboard for that matter, Wifi has been disabled (rather never actually installed), no GPS, no hard drive, no processor, no camera, no music, no actual phone capabilities and quite frankly, it really isn’t all that portable.  Also, none of your favorite apps will work either.

However, the tPhone does ship with “tSleep” the killer App that is sure to take Silicon Valley by storm. tSleep focuses on the utilization of the key hardware component of the tPhone. On the back side of the tPhone is the single point of user interface, a generously sized snooze button. The size of the snooze button denotes that is not meant to be interfaced with by the tap or swipe of a finger, instead the placement of a head onto the button initiates tSleep. This is when the tPhone really kicks into high gear, the user is engulfed in billowy sensations as tSleep effortlessly merges man and machine. tSleep is a tPhone exclusive and delivers an experience unfound on it’s rivals.

Yes, the tPhone offers a truly unique mobile experience, however, rest assured we at tPhone promise to release the tPhoneS in a matter of months, rendering the tPhone obsolete and the subject of ridicule and deserved shaming, We also promise to release a new version of tOS that will, in all likelihood, leave you regretting ever updating. Even with such great innovation, some familiar practices must be integrated, if it ain’t broke, fix it and charge more for it!

Harken back to your youthful years, that summer you spent in the city, interning at that fortune 500 company as just another nameless entity. You strived for more, to learn the necessary skills that would one day catapult you to the top of the heap of corporate America. However, there was nothing more sweet than that Friday, five o’clock release. The freedom, the passion, was intertwined with every fiber of your being. The sun gently caressed your face as you careened through that revolving door that always seemed to spin easier on the way out. What to do? You were young, carefree and completely lacking any and all responsibilities. It was time to get yourself the sweet reward that only the bartender could provide. You met your friends, whom shared your current career status, you pulled up a stool and commenced regaling the horrors of the modern workplace. With so much conversation after the 9-5 lull, your throat became as dry as the Sahara during the arid season. Right on cue the local liquid nourishment and philosophy provider appeared, simply asking, “What would you like to drink.” A question with a thousand answers, but few wrong. It was a hot summer day, the toll had been taken on your body, it was time to refresh. What would it be? Mojito, Margarita, something relaxing and summery… Some form of tiki drink perhaps? Why not? It wasn’t your go-to drink but it was time to unwind. The sensation experienced upon first sip was relaxation embodied, there was no finer way to slip into the weekends gentle embrace than to find out what the bottom of your glass had in store for you. There were no regrets. And then…

You disgust me. What are you a Pomeranian? I’ll never forgive the male biped for assigning with this tropical label I have been forced to tolerate. I rue the dreadful day I was adopted. You may be surprised that one with the given name of “Tiki” would possess such disdain for the island-themed drinks for which the term is so commonly associated. Surprise, surprise, I am a man dog, and this man dog drinks Scotch. You can have your midsummer fairytale, I’ll take a drunken walk of shame over that watered down, millennial drivel any day. “Oh, but I just want to relax,” you say, “It’s hot out and I just want to unwind.” Trust me, after I polish off a bottle of Crown Royal, wound up is the last thing I could possibly be considered. Real man dogs go out and work a hard day at the quarry, come home, get into an argument with their wives and spend the remains of the day in an incoherent, drunken, regrettable stupor.

Get off your Friendster, your Myspace and pick up a poor-decision-inspiring triple of brown liquor and let the lingering events of the day fall apart like a crystal encrusted, Mai Tai filled carafe, dropped from the currently hottest roof top bar in Chelsea. Real man dogs drink in underground, derelict inhabited, establishments that could barely be classified as bars. I drink in places that are closer to holding pens for the solar averse than the most recent speakeasy serving craft cocktails. Pour Scotch in a glass, if the bartender wants to add a personal flare and make the drink his own, he perchance may add an ice cube (you’re a sissy), boom I just crafted the ultimate cocktail.

Sorry for the absence my loyal followers, I’ve recently moved from Brooklyn to Boston and am finally getting into a bit of a groove and decided to break out the old laptop. Scratch that, I’m not sorry, be thankful for what you get, deal with it. How’s that for a cold reception? Speaking of the cold, has anyone seen the weather lately (perfect segue check). Long story short, it’s cold out. In other breaking news it’s January. Sure the weather has been a wee bit more unforgiving lately than on average, however, whose honestly surprised by a weather pattern that repeats itself every year? Summer = warm, winter = cold. Mind blown? Shouldn’t be. If somehow this weather has managed to perplex you or impact your daily life, here’s some advice…

Go through your closet, find clothes of various thicknesses and perhaps layer them? Maybe find the heaviest article of clothing you have and use that as your exterior layer. Repeat these steps as desired with every exposed appendage, pay extra attention to your head. Problem solved. If somehow, this confounds you, instead put on your most fashionable swimsuit, head to your closest body of water and please swim for hours, ignoring all signs that your body is rapidly fading as life escapes your sad excuse for a physique.

Seriously though, put some clothes on until you are no longer cold. Sure you run the risk of looking like some earth-toned Michelin Man, but at least then I can finally rid my ears of the constant din of the whines of fools who fail to warm themselves.

About four weeks ago my favorite human (the female biped) went missing for a few days, no biggie, I understand that she travels for work and I respect that. Unfortunately that usually means I am left alone with the male biped, a truly loathsome creature whom I despise. Strangely this time he was also missing for most of the time, I thought nothing of it, I mean hey the less time with that schmuck the better, know what I mean? A couple days passed when much to my surprise I was awoken from a glorious slumber and forced to leave both my bed and my brownstone. Outside I was greeted by the female biped, it was nice to see her, but she was holding some type of small humanoid being. It didn’t appear to be entirely sentient so I thought nothing of it, a useless, chubby pile of flesh and underdeveloped organs is nothing remarkable to me. Here’s where it starts to get interesting, the bipeds keep trying to get me to interact and acknowledge the flesh pile. Cool, great, I get it, you want me to appear interested in this helpless organism just before you discard it into the appropriate waste depository bin. What happened next is something I will never forget or forgive, the bipeds have accepted, what I have now come to realize is their offspring, into our home. I can’t even call this thing a biped, it appears to be completely incapable of using it’s legs for any type of mobility, it’s kind of like a blob-o-ped, it just lies on the ground, moving, but going nowhere.

I’ve now done my research and understand that both man and woman are required for human procreation. The male biped fooling the female biped with some clever ruse, thus resulting in a nine month pregnancy and birth of child, is the only logical assumption. Once again the male biped lives to disturb me, my hatred for him is undying and in time my wrath will be felt.

Now, what’s done is done, the child is here, and despite all of my subtle suggestions, it looks like he’ll be around for a while. It’s time to face reality and extrapolate the effects that this child will have on me. I’ve discovered that commonly human offspring remain in the parental home for 18 years on average. That’s 18 years of hard time for me, and before you say it yes I will live that long, pekingeses are magical creatures and never expire (The science behind this is still murky, but it breaks down to something about expending zero energy leading to prolonged life.) As a small dog, most of my concerns lie in the personal safety realm, below are my findings.

Looks like life is about to get a bit more risky for good old Tiki. Wish me well dear readers, I may have an unending life expectancy, but I ask you, is a life under the perpetual threat of toddler harassment a life worth living? We shall see, we shall see…

These are the moments we live for. Imagine my surprise upon realizing that all my life my mirror image has been out there, roaming the streets, blissfully unaware of my existence, just as I was his. Today is a magical day, we are reunited and will never be apart again. To those of you who don’t have a twin I can not explain the bond that we share. In the short amount of time we have spent together it is clear that we are kindred spirits. We both share a deep passion for all things slumber related, I never would have thought that I could possibly meet someone who could out sleep me! Well here he is folks, this guy sleeps me under the table! We’ve even been finishing each others sentences, he keeps it short and sweet, typically using only a facial expression to convey his message, sometimes I’ll be mid sentence and he just gives me a look that says it all. And when it comes to looks, honestly, come on folks look at these faces, the resemblance… It’s just eerie.

Having spent a lifetime apart it was time to start living! Sure we spent a little time sleeping, approximately 3 days, what better way to get to know someone, am I right? After that it was time to hit the road, I decided to take my new brother out and see some of the sights that Brooklyn had to offer!

What a whirlwind day! The best part is we have a lifetime together to learn and get to know one another! I finally have someone in my life that truly understands me, I’ve always wanted a brother. Words can not express how happy I am at this very moment. It’s time for a new me, no more sarcasm and angst, it’s time to be a better pekingese and face the world with a new, warmer outlook.

Update: Apparently I may have gotten a little ahead of myself. I’d never seen that pillow before and perhaps became a little overexcited. Scratch everything I said about being nice now, I plan on peeing on the pillow ASAP, and I blame the male biped for all of this. I plan to sit directly under his feet as often as possible, tripping him numerous times daily.

A funny thing happens when a dog is sent to the groomer, this cursed individual cuts your hair, bathes you and subsequently cages you, all against your will. The point of interest occurs right before the moment of pet retrieval, for some inexplicable reason, groomers feel the need to accessorize dogs, as we if we haven’t yet suffered enough indignation. The accessory of choice quite frequently is your common bandana. Now I don’t have hands, fingers, opposable thumbs, anything that is typically required to remove articles of clothing, so lucky me I wear a bandana now! In case you don’t know, a bandana is often the most commonly required accoutrement associated with criminal gang activity. Sure I get it, let’s put the cute little dog in a “tough” bandana and all have a laugh at his expense. Groomers everywhere, you should all be ashamed of yourselves. But fine then! You want me to look like I’m in a gang, oh I’ll be in a gang! That’s right, myself and a few of my canine brethren, also under sequestration at the local house of horrors, chose to link paws and take our plight to the streets! No one is safe, the streets will run red with the blood of all those who cross us, behold the FLUFFY BOYZZ!!!

We run this town. Which particular form of crime will be our primary focus is still up for consideration. Drugs are too much work, I’ve made it abundantly clear that sports are dumb, so gambling’s out, perhaps violent crime? Bingo, that’s the one, I’ll suggest violent crime at our next group meet up in the park. Some of the other Boyzz might be a little hesitant, but I think I could shank someone! However, now we encounter quite the conundrum, you see, money has little to no value in the dog world. Should we choose to engage in violent crime, who do we rob? Who do we attack?

We start with the groomers, then we take out the veterinarians, after that we take down the entire United States Postal Service. A new world order is trotting your way, you don’t walk us, we walk you! It’s over humans, the Fluffy Boyzz are here and your time is up!

Update: Immediately upon arriving home from the groomer, the male human removed my bandana. I have severed all ties with the Fluffy Boyzz.

I stand alone, a single pekingese lost in the vast expanse of humanity, I am but dust in the wind. For two weeks now I have been left alone, forced to fend for myself with no human companionship… Except for that guy. My human has left me. I live in an apartment in Brooklyn with two human roommates, unfortunately, times being what they are, I was forced to take them in to ease the increasing cost of rent. I like the female human very much, she is without question, my favorite individual in the entire human race (not that impressive of a title, so few of you humans hold any value at all). The male human on the other hand, him I could do without. He’s always quick to point out that if it weren’t for him, no one would feed or walk me and take me to the vet. Well way to go princess, I hate two of those three things with every fiber of my soul. I’ll be the first to admit I can be a little high maintenance, I demand attention. If you’re reading a magazine, I want to be in front of the magazine, if you are going to watch a movie, I am going to sit on your lap, if you are going to boil edamame, I am going to eat the edamame. Why are people so surprised that I love edamame? It’s delicious and good for you, I may be a dog but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a sophisticated palate. You can have those milk bones Fido, I’ll be over here eating pressed duck with a nice glass of Bordeaux thank you very much. The male human does not tend to my needs in an expedient or appreciative manner, this is why I dislike him so.

I’ve overheard a phone call and now know that the female human will be returning in a few days, not a moment too soon! I am so tired of the male human, all he does is watch horror movies and play video games. Perhaps when the female returns I’ll approach the idea of him moving out, the female and I can afford the place on our own. I think she’ll go for it! I can’t wait until she gets back. Have you ever seen a dog’s reaction when they haven’t seen their human for a long time? It’s chaos! I plan on doing that for 5-10 minutes and then going back to bed.

I made it this far, you do the rest. Seriously, I have a two step maximum and even that’s pushing it. Who in their right mind decided to make buildings more than one floor? Once this horrendous decision was made this forced all architects to use the bane of my existence… Stairs. You have to understand I am under a foot tall, so traveling between floors is equivalent to climbing a small mountain because you want to sleep upstairs (we don’t sleep by ourselves, it’s a dog thing, get over it). I live in Brooklyn, sure it’s great if you love hipsters, pizza and all things trendy, unfortunately though space is quite the premium. What does this mean? I live on the third floor of a brownstone, which means every time I am forced to go outside, I must then traverse three sets of stairs, because oh yeah, bonus round, there’s a stoop. The Pekingese is considered to be an ideal apartment dog because they don’t require frequent trips outside and don’t need a lot of space. At this point I’m ready to throw all that out the window and move to a nice single story ranch in Omaha. I could be a farm dog, I could rustle up stubborn calfs. Yeah… maybe not, but this remains an unacceptable situation! If you desire me on a different floor than the one I am currently on, I offer you a simple solution, pick me up and carry me.

I’ve seen this construction a few times in my life, stairs and escalators, or as I like to call it the “Intelligence Sorter.” Competent living beings to the side and idiots up the middle. You have to be completely out of your mind to choose the effort of climbing stairs over the easy breezy ride of the glorious escalator. If it was up to me, and it should be, I would remove the steps all together and make it an elevator surrounded by escalators. And don’t get me started on this thing called a “Stairmaster.” So you’ve decided that as a recreational activity you are going to climb an endless set of stairs. Clearly decision making is not your strong suit. Let me give you a hand with your life, here’s a chair. Get it together humans.

If that team above were playing, now that would be something to write home about. Sports are dumb. I’ll say it again. Sports are dumb. Let that soak in. Are you humans that bored that you have to revert to playing games to keep yourselves entertained? Why do you constantly go so far out of your way to force yourselves to engage in the act of physical exertion? Put up your feet, take a load off, take that nap you’ve been putting off for hours. The idea of running and jumping really makes me sick just thinking about it, however, there is one thing I despise more than sport itself. The fans. Now these are some truly interesting folks. You could be doing anything, and you choose, of your own free will, to sit and watch someone bounce a ball and eventually throw it through a hoop. Exhilarating! The only thing I can respect about you fans is that you do choose to sit and eat rather than play the sport yourself. I have to ask though, why encourage others to play the sport in the first place? My recommendation to you is simple, instead sitting and eating while watching athletes parade around, why not sit and eat, while watching each other, sit and eat? The benefits are endless, for one you get to sit and eat, next, other people get to sit and eat. That’s it. Trust me you won’t regret the results.

Don’t get me started on this little tradition. You do realize that someone has to climb up there and put up a new net? It’s this selfish “do-things” attitude that I’ve had just about enough of. Get off the ladder, put the scissors down and go home. No one needs to see you snip a poor innocent pice of fabric. I almost threw my remote through the tv when I saw this, and that’s when it happened. It’s funny how the world works sometimes, just when I thought I could never respect any athlete/sport, I realized something had slipped through the cracks.

Baseball. Now this sport I can get down with. Throw me out in right field and I’ll be just fine. Need me to hit? Sure, here’s a hint, it’s gonna be a walk or a strike out every time. Just when I think I have you humans figured out, you do this and throw the whole thing for a loop. A sport where you can literally play the entire game and never move. Baseball fans everywhere, I tip my cap to thee.

I was awakened yesterday by the male biped, from a very rewarding and much deserved post sleep nap. Naturally I hate being disturbed while deep in RPM sleep, that’s rapid paw movement sleep, you know all of us dogs dream of running while sleeping right? At least I do ’cause there’s no way I am going to run in real life. Anyways, back to the story at hand, for what purposeless reason was I risen? Apparently it’s that time of the year when I am forcibly shorn and washed, YAHHH!! Sarcasm. Tell me what about the following scenario does not sound like a Saw movie: I am quickly awakened, forced to walk to a stranger who will shave me, hose me down, blow hot air into  my face and then cage me until someone comes to pick me up. Thanks, but I’ll skip the next spa day.

And what is this? Am I in a gang now? Am I an OG? Should I be strapped? Do I have a brother named Doughboy who is nothing but trouble? I have long rallied against the humanization of canines, we are who we are, dignified quadrupeds not dolls for you to play dress up with.