The Coneheads Would be a Welcome Change
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
There is a girl living in my house for the week.
Posted with permission.
We went on a walk looking for young professional single women in the neighborhood. Sadly they are all hiding behind the walls of their wooden castles at 4:30 in the afternoon when I usually get home. Instead it was a chance to meet neighbors with man's best icebreaker.
First to approach us was a little neighborhood girl.
"Hey what kind of dog is that?"
I went through the dog's torrid ancestral mutt history. This fell on dead ears.
"Know what? I have two mommies."
"Ok... Do you have a daddy?"
"God."
"God is your daddy?" I have just now realized that this is actually a boy and not a girl. He really looked like a little girl.
"Yep!"
"So you never get to see your dad?"
"Oh I see him bunches when mommy lets me hold the rattlesnakes in the basement. Hey! What is your dog's name?"
Moving on I finally found a woman to talk to. A 60-something grey-haired woman was meticulously setting up her flat soaker hose in the front yard.
"Oh goodness what a cute puppy!"
"Thanks."
"Oh I'm not talking to you sonny but the comment isn't too far off! Ha ha!"
"Thanks?"
"What kind of puppy is it?"
Here we go again.
"Oh that's the best kind!"
"I guess it's your lucky day to have your favorite uncommon mix of dog brought right in front of your house."
"Now why don't you and puppy come in and have some lemonade."
"No thanks. We have a lot more walking to do."
"But I insist! Get in my house!"
"Muffin! Run!"
Aren't there any chicks in this neighborhood in the afternoon? The jog worked something loose and my dog randomly picked a spot in someone's front yard to squat. Lucky for me she picked the house where someone was pulling in to the driveway. A gruff man rolled down the window of his truck.
"You're going to clean that up, right?"
"Clean what up?"
He pointed to the dog.
I hid the leash behind my back. "What? That's not mine."
"Don't play games."
"Looks like it's her territory now."
"I don't think so son." He said, getting out of the truck and bearing down on my position brandishing his fists.
I then quickly explained that it was the hidden camera show, Boiling Points, and the camera crews would be out to fill out forms and give him a prize for not kicking my ass.
He glanced in either direction and hastily smoothed out the little hair left under his John Deere hat. "Where them cameras at now?"
"Muffin! Run!"
We aren't going on a walk again.
posted by Ghengis @ 10:35 PM,
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Postcards
Friday, September 09, 2005
Hey I ordered a stack of postcards from snapfish featuring some of the pretentious photographs from my other page that hasn't been updated for months. If you want one please send your address to The mong olia ns at gm a il. You can trust me because I will not sell your address to Capital One until the Great Culling of 2009. By then you'll be living in a cave or bomb shelter anyway.
I understand there is the problem of roommates or significant others reading your postcard from some strange guy on the Internet. If writing is not covered up on a piece of mail and it accidentally falls on the table face up, it's free for anyone to read. To remedy this your postcard can be customized to be from anyone of your choosing. "Did my roommate get a postcard from his great great aunt in North Dakota? That's not even worth reading." The 'author' of your postcard is up to you.
I just want to get rid of these. Supplies are limited so act now and also additional miscellaneous salesman pitch.
I wanted to tie this to some sort of Hurricane Relief effort but guilting someone to give up their physical address in order to benefit other people is wrong. 'If you don't send your address to strangers on the internet then you must like starving children.' Therefore I'll just help out as best I can here. I think I've finally found a charity that's able to do something.
God help them all. Even the shitheads.
posted by Ghengis @ 1:00 PM,
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"Life begins when you adopt a Greyhound"
The ice cream place near my old apartment hosts "Dog Night". People from all over the area come to dog night to show off their mutts and get a free scoop of ice cream with dog biscuits in it. Based on the imbalance of the owner-to-dog weight ratio, I think some people went there to just get free ice cream, dog treats or not. You don't have to have a dog to get the free ice cream. These people can rationalize eating the extra ice cream because dog bones will help keep your breath smelling good and give you a really shiny coat.
One gentleman learned how to make his dog talk and ask for ice cream!
"What do you say girl?"
"BARK! BARK!"
"Do you want the nice girl to give you ice cream?"
"BARK BARK!"
"What do you say?"
"BARK! BARK!"
"Can you say ice cream?"
"BARK! BARK!"
"You heard her! She wants ice cream!"
A few women were sitting at a table holding collars and chains that were attached to various greyhounds. Other dog people were going up to the greyhound table and talking to the women. The women would present various parts of the dog to the curious people. Then a man would sign a piece of paper, palm some cash, and take the dog away.
This is how you buy heroine, not adopt rescued animals. I don't think anyone signs for heroine anymore though. Have we come this far?
You can't have none of this.
This is how you buy heroine, not adopt rescued animals. I don't think anyone signs for heroine anymore though. Have we come this far?
You can't have none of this.
I was going to buy a dog to put in this house but now I'm not sure. I barely have time to take care other things let alone take care of a self-moving, peeing mammal. It took months to finally get this done:
Is this enough plants, Lisa?
All of the neighborhood husbands are sulking. I kind of feel bad.
posted by Ghengis @ 12:09 AM,
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