Live from Lollywood!

Hi! Welcome to my brand spanking new blog where we’ll delve into my innermost thoughts. Ok, maybe not innerMOST thoughts. I’m not sure a whole lot of people would want to be that far into the circus tents that are the inner workings of me, and I think I’ve got a few ex-boyfriends who would probably agree.

For the first order of business, allow me to provide some insight into the adorable name of this rollercoaster of hilarity and mild insanity.

I have a make-believe dog. Her name is Lolly.

Lolly exists (or doesn’t, as it is that she’s imaginary) at the intersection of my love for saying absurd things just to see people’s reactions (usually the reaction is an internal debate about whether I should maybe be taken away by men in white jackets) and my desire to eventually own a toy poodle puppy. You see, I’m far too into happy hours and amorphous evening schedules to commit to the responsibility of feeding, putting on her rain boots and rain hat, walking, fighting off the hoards of people vying for little Lolly’s attention, grooming, matching collar with leash, disciplining, plying with treats and all the other normal duties associated with dog ownership. I’m not ready to actually invite a real puppy into my life, but I have her name all picked out and know exactly what she’ll look like: curly and small enough to fit in my purse, with a little bow in her precious tresses. I know, I’m a total cliché.

Somewhere within the years I’ve been talking about someday adopting Lolly, my family started buying Lolly presents for her to one day enjoy using. And, I prepared by buying all the poodle ownership books, including the ones about litter box training a small dog. Eventually, “Lolly will,” finally became “Lolly does,” and because I thought it was so freaking hysterical, it stuck.

If a dog jumps on me or goes crazy sniffing me (what can I say? Boys and dogs both seem to love my signature scent!), I’ll say something like, “Oh, he probably smells Lolly on me.” This is the most fun to say to a stranger in front of a friend who knows Lolly isn’t real, because whether it amuses the friend or not, I’m inevitably laughing so hard at my really funny joke, the friend is left to explain to the stranger that Lolly is make-believe and then to watch the stranger run in the other direction.

One day I had a guy over whom I had told about Lolly but had neglected to let in on the joke. When Lolly did not bound to the apartment door when we opened it, he asked where she was. I told him that she was probably running around the building somewhere, since everyone loves Lolly, but who knows where exactly she was. His horrified look was exactly what the joke is about.