Sunday, freaking, Sunday

Has anyone ever used that deodorant called "Tom's All Natural"? I think it's based in Maine or something? Holy crap, that shit irritates the HELL outta my skin. Today at work I looked like a god damn orangutan scratching their armpits trying to get a banana from a zookeeper. Gross. Anyway, onto the thrilling (I think) conclusion to my weekend.

So like I said Saturday mostly consisted of me recovering from a hangover, a trip to the Home Depot, and not much else. Let's move on to Sunday.

Sunday- I woke up feeling much better, and made it a point to start cleaning the townhouse while Joe played handyman and put up the new fence. When he went downstairs I came out, just to check up on Georgia and take some trash out. I noticed a 7 or 8 year old boy with his father, looking and smiling at Georgia. Being the overly/annoyingly polite person, I walked over, wearing a crappy small tank top and stained workout pants, hoping they were just curious as to her breed (as everyone in their mother seems to be).

I couldn't totally understand what the father was saying the whole time, but he was smiling alot. The kid asked questions about her and wondered if he could pet her. I managed to get my hands on her and let him pet her. Then he said he'd like to throw the ball for her. I grabbed the ball and let it toss it to her a few times. Now I probably should've just stopped it there because the next thing I knew the kid was climbing over the fence because he wanted to play with her.

Now, Georgia is NOT a vicious dog. Her one problem that we have to train out of her is that she sometimes plays a little rough with us humans. She has a hard time discerning play from pain, unless we yelp loudly to indicate the difference. The kid start trying to mess with her and she began nipping at his heels and when he started flailing his arms, tried to bite those as well. It wasn't as if she was trying to attack him, but still the kid started to look petrified and clutched his arm. I tried to grab Georgia to keep her away but she thought it was all part of the game. When I finally managed to get a hold, the kid suddenly said he wanted to play some more. Finally coming to my senses, with this strange kid in my yard, I apologized and said that I thought it was time for Georgia to go in now. He looked at me wide-eyed, as if that was ridiculous and unfair.

"Yeah, you know, she's just getting really excited...she sorta nips when she's playing," I stammered. Still the look was blank. Finally the father helped me out by saying it was time for them to go, still smiling. He made it seem like he was just going to pull the kid back over the fence the way he came, so I walked back inside with Georgia in tow.

When Joe came back upstairs, he noticed the father and son in our backyard.

"Ummm why are there people in our yard?" I glanced back and noticed they were trying to actually go through the back gate. Not really wanting to make friends, I closed the door and hightailed it upstairs to continue with my cleaning, and hoped for the best.

Hours later I was due to pick up Ashley at BWI at around 7:40. Also, quick side note- since doing this Living Year thing I HAVE noticed I'm on time for more things. In fact, sometimes I'm even early...yet somehow I still get bitten in the ass...

So I make my way up there over a half hour early. I find a nice spot right near her airline exit, and, since my car has no a/c, step out to suck in whatever stifled air I can. I keep glancing at my watch, and when I realize it's almost time, I finger my phone waiting for her call and look around for a sign of her.

Suddenly, at around 7:36, an airport cop begins walking to all the cars, including mine, and telling the owners they need to move. I immediately comply, asking if I should just go around the terminal again. She says yes, but as I move forward I get the call. I tell Ash to meet me at the Air Jamaica section and pull over. I'm not there for more than 2 minutes before the same cop rolls over.

"This is the second time, right?" She said, leaning into my car.

"Yes, I'm sorry, but my friend JUST called me. She's coming out right now," I said.

"Ok, well, you know how they say third times a charm? Third times a ticket," and she starts to move on. I'm left thinking she meant if I stay there too long and she tells me to move again, she'll give me a ticket so I wait a few more seconds. I then see her in my rearview, making her way back to me, and suddenly get the message. I pull out and drive all the way around the terminal.

Ashley calls me again, asking what happened. I explain that this freakin cop told me to move so I had to circle the terminal. When I finally get back around the quiet airport is now packed and tense. I pull over where I can, holding my phone to my ear and trying to move up a bit, as requested by some guy in a giant lime-colored shirt. Still I see no sign of Ash; instead, I see the same damn cop, and this time she is just signaling me to move AGAIN.

After going through the terminal a third time, at long last, I spot Ashley and practically yank her into my car before the cop can see me. As I explained the whole thing, Ash suddenly made me realize it wasn't just me. Apparently, while she was craning her neck to find me she stepped a little too close to the curb. The same cop came up to her and barked at her to move back. When she explained she's looking for her friend (who's had to circle the terminal three times, she pointed out), the cop ignored her after she told her to move again.

*Whew*, so yeah, that was my weekend in a nutshell. A very colorful and long-winded nutshell. Don't worry, tomorrow's will be shorter. G'nite gang!

Female-Fists-of-Fury Friday

Holy hell, what a freaking weekend. Here's what happened...

Friday- Since we got Georgia I'm on the mailing list for the SPCA so I occasionally get emails about fundraising events. One that I really wanted to attend was called "Wine & Wag" in which people bring their dogs and while they nosh on biscuits and treats, we humans get to sample beer, wine, and little hors d'ouerves (sp?).

However, due to the crap-tastic weather we've been having it was rescheduled. They also mentioned that another event called "The Yappy Hour" was taking place at a wine shop in historic Ellicott City, where it would the same sort of thing. Because I was unable to make it to the Wine & Wag (b/c of conflicting schedules) I figured I'd head out for the Yappy Hour.

Things were going pretty smoothly. Though Georgia was still pretty hesitant around all the other dogs, she WAS showing interest. But one dog was paying a little bit too much attention to her, at least in Georgia's mind. It was this little puggle (ironically, the same dog we had originally been looking for) that, when it realized Georgia wasn't going to play with him began loudly barking at her. Georgia, usually timid and shy about barkers, tried to maneuver away from it but when she couldn't she started barking back. (And not only barking, but showing her teeth) I was trying to casually sip my latest wine taste and suddenly had to scoop her up to calm her down.

When things settled I plopped her back down and she rewarded my efforts by taking a nice big dump right by the micro brews. I suddenly panicked, realizing we hadn't remember to bring any plastic bags. Thankfully someone took pity on us, the amateur dog-owners, and handed over a bag to pick up her poop. It was a little hard to regain the moment of sophistication when one hand is holding a dry red and the other a wet brown...

After that we were due to meet up with our friends back at our place, where the drinking continued. This went from destination to destination, till finally, at the end of the night, we came back to the house to finish out the night. The two other girls decided to go for a cigarette run and suggested I come along, with the dog.

As we made our way to the nearest 7-11, I waited outside with Georgia, trying like hell not to stumble and give away my current state. The girls came back out and muttered something about getting in a fight. Before I had the chance to ask them what they meant, this group of young 20-somethings poked their heads, one of them shouting insults at us. One of the girls with us reciprocated, while me and the other tried to pull her along. They explained that one of the 20-something college girls was being disrespectful to the cashier and our friend, acknowledging this, rightfully decided to stand up for the guy. When the college girl made it known she didn't appreciate the comment to her, words were exchanged. After retelling the story, they realized they forgot the cigarettes and went back in, where the other girls finally emerged and began apologizing to me about their friend. Being drunk, and terrified of confrontation, I excused them and told them to just go. As they made their way to the corner I was rejoined by MY girls, who couldn't resist messing with these little girls one more time, smacking the one biotch's butt and then tore off, leaving the other group to hold back their friend who wanted nothing more than to get her hands on our friend.

As we walked back, we started started falling apart laughing, while I kept muttering "oh my God, oh my God,". It was the closest I have ever been to a girl-girl fight since I was a little kid. I was amazed at the gumption of my companions, and slightly jealous as well. I tried to convince myself it was because of the dog that I didn't join their cause, but I think we all knew the truth. When we got back to the boys and we began explaining the story, the girls high-fived proudly.

The truth is, I've always wondered, if the shit REALLY hit the fan, would I do anything? If words were no longer an option, and someone was trying to attack a friend, would I have the balls to drop everything (including *gasp*, manners!) and join in for a good ol' fight? I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I mean, I could have at least been like, "that's right bitches! You're gonna take your medicine!" Guys always talk about getting and giving ass whoopings...maybe that's not a terrible thing for a girl to experience either (from another girl). Oh well, guess I'll have to test my female fists of fury another time...unless I happen to have the dog with me again..

Ok, so that was part one of my weird-ass weekend. Tomorrow- we skip hungover Saturday conclude with Sunday...

Thoughtful Thursday

I didn't have a particular subject in mind today, however, as I was going about my day there were certain things I noticed and would like to comment on.

1. There is nothing scarier than making a left hand turn into a busy intersection and you have to sneeze. I was making one such turn this morning, onto York Road, which anyone can tell you, is plenty busy during rush hour. I was making the left, and suddenly felt the comings-on of a sneeze. Helpless, I hoped it would pass but of course it didn't. Luckily, I've been doing this same drive for a few weeks now so I can make the turn...even with my eyes closed. Still, though it's just for a brief second, I (and others who fear for their lives on the road) have a mini panic-attack thinking that in that time someone will come whizzing by and smash into me. I know it's pretty far-fetched but wouldn't you hate to be the one who died because you took your eyes off the road for a split second just to sneeze? I think that would be horribly sad and tragic. And is there any truth to that myth that you can't sneeze with your eyes open? I think I once heard someone say your eyes could explode, but that's all here say. And given the two options I guess I'd rather take my chances with a quick sneeze than forever blindness.

2. I think we might have reached a new milestone for laziness and stupidity in this country. Again, while on my commute today I was listening to a radio ad from Subway, and they were talking about their new breakfast menu. As I recall, the ad went something like, "We know you hate talking in the morning. So just point to what you'd like and we'll make it for you!" Wow. Now, I want to really believe this was for that grumpy demographic that hate getting up in the morning, but who also apparently hate even MORE having to physically move their lips and vocal chords in order to get food made for them. But I have to assume that it might also be for those who are illiterate and who, rather than read off a menu are now able to simply grunt and point to what they'd like to eat. I don't mean to be critical to those that simply were never able to learn to read, but instead for those that didn't bother to. I have little sympathy for those who choose not to help themselves, and speaking as a former English teacher, feel that kids today need all the encouragement to read and write they can get, and we should be helping that, and not catering to the problem as an advertising gimmick.

3. Nothing has shown me the effect of inflation more than the price of Wrigley's gum. Remember when a pack of Big Red was 25 cents? It was such a wonderful thing that they even printed it on the wrapper. But today, as I was purchasing a snack from the vending machines I bent down to pick up my selection and noticed the gum at the bottom row. I noticed the price for Double Mint gum was 65 cents! I know I am a cheap asshole, and granted the prices in vending machines are crock (a whole dollar for Ramen Cup-a-Noodles?!), but that really showed me how much prices have changed since I was a kid. Hell, I remember our local pharmacy selling candy bars for 50 cents, and now it's considered a sale item if it's 85 cents. Oh well, guess I'm already starting to sound like an old lady, who'll shake her finger and say, "I remember when Ramen noodles were only 10 cents a pack!"

Jeez, am I being too "deep thought-esque" and lecturing? I'll try to tone it down next week. I might have a good light story for tomorrow too, (unless I'm too hung over...)

Johns Hope-kins

For those of you not in the area, it is currently Restaurant Week here in Baltimore. What is that, you may ask? Basically for us poor assholes who enjoy expensive food but don't want to part with alot of cash, we can, for a week, visit a number of restaurants that offer a set menu of three or four courses for only $35. In some cases, they even throw in a free glass of wine or beer (woohoo).

Last night I was driving downtown to meet up with some friends at one such restaurant. I sat at the light by Johns Hopkins and while I waited I started perusing the people walking to, from, and around the campus. I noticed a beefy girl in a red tank and blue long boys shorts jogging along the path outside the school. Then a guy smoking a cigarette and hauling a book bag passed her and was walking towards a bus stop. The light changed and as I swerved into the side lane for cars to use I continued my inspection of the students. Two girls, who appeared like such kids to me (a sure sign I'm both old AND out of touch) were walking and chatting gaily. Another girl passed them wearing what looked like a going-out outfit and clutched a cell phone to her ear.

You may think I was being ultra-weird, even stalkerish. The truth is I kept looking at these kids with an aura of wonder and respect. Back in high school, when we had all talked about what colleges would accept us, it was usually involving schools with names like Rhode Island University or Flagler. We had all heard of schools like Harvard, Yale, and our very own Jersey school, Princeton. Yet the idea of one of us actually making into one of these prestigious schools seemed so out of the possibility, it as if you were going to be chosen for a space mission. When one or two DID actually gain acceptance to these more notable schools, we all, I suspect, acknowledged them with due congratulations but on the inside felt pangs of jealousy, followed by relief.

The people that get into these schools have almost a preordained destiny for them, I feel, much like a royal family member preparing for the crown. Though you may wish it for yourself, you know that it is not within your reach and so you become settled and comfortable for your own chosen lot in life. Those people were the ones that seemed unstoppable in at least two or three subjects in school, and I would always shirk away from them, fearful of infecting their perfect brains with my own odd observations or even worse, that somehow they saw something in me that I wasn't smart enough to see for myself.

I began feeling all those same emotions as I watched the plethora of students walk about Johns Hopkins. Although instead of tight jealousy in my stomach, I tried to instead think of the accomplishments they'd one day claim for themselves. Each one of them had been selected to be members of an elite society of scholars, and with that came the responsibility to do something with their hefty brains: a cure for diabetes, solving outrageous mathematical equations, supplying a cost-effective treatment for people suffering in third world countries, etc..

Rather than feel that internal greed for their intelligence, I tried instead to think of each one of them carrying some precious material with them, something that you couldn't tell they had until they let it out once in a while, and you were suddenly able to recognize their possibility for greatness.

I finally made it to my destination, and as I pulled out the chair and joined my friends in conversation, I once again felt the relief filter in. Sure, I was no doctor, I would never be an engineer or solve the world's mysteries. But I was secure in the little life I was carving out for myself. And as I sipped my crab soup and discussed the latest book club entry we were reading, offering the odd observations I always seemed to have no exhaustion of, I felt I was beginning to make my own way. Hopefully, anyway.

Ok, so not my funniest entry. Must be this introspective weather...oh well, humor shall ensue tomorrow...

Death by Stupidity

Back when I was watching television, there was two shows that I would watch occasionally but then never want to watch again. Which shows? One was called "1000 Ways to Die" and the other was "CSI" (the original, and in my opinion, the only one that really matters). Both entertaining in completely different ways. But where they differed was the fact that in one, you could be amazed at where the story goes, while the other merely freaked you out in the end.

For me, I enjoyed watching CSI because of the interesting plot lines and characters. They gave you the benefit of never really knowing where the story was going to go, and who/what the culprit of the murder would be. Getting there was half the fun.

On 1000 Ways to Die, you were more waiting for the punchline at the end. And if you aren't aware of this show, it's basically about all the horrible and inventive ways people have either died or killed themselves (usually by accident). However, they would tell the story through humorous reenactments and then conclude the story with a funny one-liner.

Both appearing to be highly entertaining shows right? The difference is that, although CSI based alot of its stories on actual events, you could still talk yourself into remembering that it is a scripted show. 1000 Ways, on the other hand, basically completely retells these horrible and ironic ways people DID actually die, and if that weren't enough, they bring on experts to talk in depth about the specific science behind how they died. And that used to FREAK me out, because there really ARE alot of dumb ways you can die, and I should know, because I almost died from my own stupidity recently.

I was pulling out of the garage of my office and turned left. I was about to cross the Light Rail train tracks when I suddenly saw the red lights flashing, indicating an incoming train. I was about to just back up to get on the outside of the guard rails that were coming down when I realized they had already come down. Panic-stricken, I quickly made a U-turn and drove back to the garage to turn around all over again. It wasn't till I was safely behind a couple of the cars waiting for the train did I realize that I probably should've just kept going straight (since the rails didn't go down from the side I would've come out on). I just kept thinking it was going to be like a cartoon where you look one way for a second and then BAM a freaking steamroller shows up and flattens you. It's the Light Rail, for god's sake, the damn thing screeches like a strangled sea gull, which tells you it's not exactly running smooth anyway.

Still, I kept thinking the scenario over and over in my head, thinking about being plowed over by a hulking speeding mass of metal, and it took away my better judgment and logic. I should probably be worried about that. The fact that if the shit hit the fan I wouldn't really know what to do kinda bothers me.

And then I'd just end up being another one of those stories on those shows. Maybe they would find my lifeless body and be able to tell by the large amounts of adrenaline (and by the fact my hands would just be covering my face still) that I hadn't really thought about trying to save my life. Or they'd give me the punch line, "Train-in Wheels". Sad sad.

Was this a bleak post? Don't worry, tomorrow's will be about Baltimore's Restaurant week and I'll review my meal tonight at Gertude's. Savor this!

Girls I Don't Get

Maybe it's just me, but there are alot of actresses out there that I don't get why everyone, especially guys, think are so great. Granted, I'm not a lesbian (despite what people might assume), nor a guy so my understanding of what makes a girl hot is sorta limited. However, I've compiled a short list of actresses that guys swoon over, but I don't see the attraction.

1.) Megan Fox-- Ok, so she looked nice and slutty in Transformers, but when I see this girl in anything else I see total bitch-face (and girls, you know what I'm talking about). There was a girl in high school I knew that also suffered from B.F., but then again she was kinda bitchy anyway so it didn't matter. Plus she is a crappy actress anyway, so yeah.

2.) Scarlett Johanss0n-- I'll give you that she's got a curvy body, but her face looks only so-so. What's with that chin/nose? Plus, I kinda think she sucks as an actress, anyway. Doesn't she seem to play the same character in every movie? I dunno, again, could be just me.

3.) Kristen Stewart-- I figure her for one of those "indie" actor chicks (excluding the "Twilight" series), and sometimes I think she's an ok actress so therefore maybe looks aren't supposed to be the major thing. But for the most part she looks like one of those girls who only looks pretty with a ton of make-up on. Have you seen those freakin "Twilight" posters? The freakin Mona Lisa doesn't get touched up as much (and don't get me started on that wad Taylor Lautner. I don't get girls attraction to him, but we'll save that for another post).

4.) Paris Hilton-- Now, I know she's not really considered an actress (although from what I hear she did provide truly stunning and thought provoking performances in "A Night in Paris" and "House of Wax"...) but she is still a celebrity (for being rich, I guess) and so I can also lay into her as well (as if I was the only one, the girl's been laid more than sod on a football field..OH!). But seriously, the way too thin body coupled with that forever pouty face is a losing combo. I truly don't get the attraction here. Please, guys, educate me on this one.

Yes, I AM being petty, and yes, I realize I'm no prize either. I am one of the many "normal" people out there, and if you want to be a celebrity you are going to get assholes like me who will be critical as hell. But as I said before, this is pretty much the short list. I'm sure as soon as I hit the "Post" button I'm going to think of more. But thankfully I have people who aren't afraid to leave comments about their own feelings. So let the forum begin!

A Fool in the Rain

Just thought I'd share my morning today and leave you with a sad pathetic image.

So as I've been mentioning, we've been having frequent accidents with Georgia. Often it is because of our own faults; the door to the backyard was shut or I made the mistake of running upstairs for a brief moment when I knew she had to go (only to come back and find a nice big Tootsie Roll on the hardwood floor). Since then Joe and I have been trying to be like hawks whenever she's alone with us and she starts sniffing.

Luckily, we're starting to get her morning routine down. She wakes us up around 6:30, Joe attempts to get her to go downstairs with him but the damn dog only wants ME to do it (when all I want is to sleep until my g.d. alarm goes off at 7:10), I escort her to the door, she trots out and pees, comes back for the food I put in her bowl, and not more than 10 mins. later she goes #2. This morning was to be no exception.

The crack of lightning this morning woke us all up. Joe, once again tried to encourage her out but that little brown thing kept hopping up near our bed to see me. Terrified she was going to piss all over the floor I finally hopped out of bed in my summer pjs (consisting of a small tank top and short shorts) and hurried her to the door. It took a little coaxing but she finally got the urge and went outside to pee. Meanwhile, I'm standing by the door in my skimpy pjs trying to avoid the gaze of my neighbors.

She jumps back inside and eats. I wait until she is done and then, again, gesture her out the door. She sits and stares at me. I keep waving my arm out the door, even tossing a treat out to get her to go, but still that butt stays on the kitchen floor.

I should mention too, at this point it is starting to drizzle, but I don't care. I keep standing there trying to get her to go out.

When she still doesn't get it, I tell Joe to watch her so I can put on actual shorts and walk her around the backyard.

As soon as my flip-flops hit the grass, the skies open up. Georgia finally follows me, and thinking its playtime, starts giddily dashing to and fro around the yard.

There I was, getting pissed on by big gobs of rain, wearing a little tank top and shorts, thunder and lightning drama occurring right over my head, and a dog leaping and bounding away without a care in the world.

I stood alone in my yard, arms crossed over me, waiting for my damn dog to crap so I could get the hell back inside.

When it finally looked like it wasn't going to happen, I said "eff it" and I stomped back inside. Thankfully Joe took her for a walk (bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt) and she finally did her business.

But as I was standing out there I noticed a guy jog right by our house. I kept thinking, who the hell else would be out here in the rain at god damn 6:45 in the morning? It made me think about a woman Ashley and I met once at a Starbucks who, upon hearing us talk about our fears of losing our bodies when we got older, said, "My trick is to go to the gym everyday before work. And don't give yourself the option to skip."

She walked out and we noticed she did have a great figure for a woman who had four kids, but still. I give alot of credit to people who have that kind of discipline to force themselves up at the crack of dawn to work out, but I think it's not terribly practical for most working people. But who knows? That guy could just be the really smart one and have it so ingrained in his schedule that he doesn't mind it. He's getting the health benefits and good body that goes along with such rigid discipline.

Meanwhile, I'm just the half-naked chick standing in her yard, looking like she's waiting for the mother ship to land. Who's really got it right here?