hot steamy dog shit

whenever i am confronted by our furry four legged friends, there are two things that instantly go through my mind a) is it going to jump on me and soil my clothing and b) will i feel compelled to pet it and therefore suffer from dog stink on my hand. i know all owners of dogs are adamant their dog is clean – guess what? i don’t care how fucking clean your dog is, there is always residue dog stink on your hand after petting it. although there are varying levels of stink; some less than others, there really is nothing as repugnant as an “outside” dog’s vile dander on your hand after pretending to like canines and scratching its back.

and if your dog slobbers or breathes its hot little doggie breath on me, i am not exactly ready to gush on how cute he/she is. many times, it is not the dogs fault for being annoying – like it wasn’t properly trained or it’s dressed up like a doll by its owner. honestly, in nyc people put rain boots on their little purse dogs. i firmly believe that people who dress their dogs beyond a jaunty little bandannas should be euthanized.

not being one to hide my emotions on my face, immediately when confronted with a slobbery dog, the owner will say “you’re not a dog person, are you?” i want to say “yes” – because i feel if i say “no” it makes it look like i am a bad person and let’s face it, my personality is so borderline i don’t need another item to weigh in on the “evil” side of the lady justice weight measure. so i say yes, but it is a lie – which makes me wonder, is it worse to lie about liking dogs than actually not liking dogs?

another sex in the city moment there. that damn movie is everywhere right now. i don’t really hate the movie as much as the hags that can’t wait to see it. i use to watch sex in the city on television and liked it. recently, while mending at home on my back for five weeks, i tried repeatedly to watch the reruns and just found myself nauseated by the pathetic storylines and ‘hipper’ than bitchy attitude all four main characters have. i guess i can see some sort of camp value in the upcoming flick, but that would be a lie – and i’ll leaving lying to whether or not i like dogs. i guess the real point here is: will i ever be able to end a paragraph with a question without envisioning sarah jessica parker typing on her bed about the latest dipshit she’s dating?

and since we are talking about dogs in the city (drum roll, please), i would have to de-evolve to be reduced to take a thin plastic bag and pick up hot steamy dog shit off the sidewalk every morning/night. it’s just never going to happen. not only that, but i curse all city dogs owners who pollute our sidewalks with brown stains, who are the real culprits in the waifs of urine we are so lucky to smell, and who kill more trees than bette milder can plant.

now, don’t get me wrong, i am really not against dogs. to be honest, i actually find them comforting to have around. i understand the bond one can have with an animal – i loved my childhood dog, ginger. she was so important to me that when i was 7 or 8, i planned on taking her with me when i ran away (side note: i would tell my mother i was running away, usually after a good beating, and her response was always “i’ll pack your lunch,” classic karen).

to sum it all up - i guess i like the concept of a dog, just don’t make me pet them.

NOTE FOR FRIENDS WITH DOGS: there are always exceptions to the rules, and there are dogs i do genuinely like – so please don’t ask me whether i like your dog or not, cause the answer is always yes, whether i do or not.

my phone, my nemesis

there are moments in which i am capable of super human strength, much like the incredible hulk. in fact the incredible hulk and i have one important key characteristic in common - we can only summon our super human strength when we are angry. we differ as i did not obtain this super power by some failed government experiment (like rachael ray) - mine is purely genetic - from the deep pit of anger which pretty much defines my mother.

many schoolchildren used the "my father can beat up your father" analogy to boost their pride. i can say with ease that my mother could kill your entire family within 5 seconds - not so much for my pride, as more of a warning to you. karen (my mother's name to the outside world, or 'killa gorilla' in fight club) could summon up hateful rage to stomp out many evils in our house - like beds made WITHOUT hospital corners (for those savage pigs who do not know what hospital corners are - it is when you corner tuck the sheets in a perfect 90 degree angle), watching tv before 4pm, or pretty much anytime she was annoyed.

a special offense which would unleash quick and immediate tirades (read: beatings) was to eat food on the forbidden list. karen was a heavyweight fighter weighing in around 300 pounds (give or take a bag of lays or two) which gave her a special interest in the quantities of food available in house at all times. food falling below certain quantities would bring about beatings. this created a special food edibility pyramid in my house which only the local culture (myself, my sister and my father) could comprehend - although many times the locals could not understand what the beast wanted. in karen's house, all foods had levels of edibility - depending on where they fell on the pyramid. a food on the forbidden list (food seemingly purchased for consumption, but in reality evil booby traps set by karen to release her inner rage) ranged from anything from pretzels to fruit to bread.

not only were foods categorized but also weighed - so that if any one member ate more then the allotted or "fair" amount, karen could (and would) quickly squash such uprisings. my mother was like a somali warlord with the key to the wheat harvest and no one in the family was going to establish any other order.

in fact their was an actual key which unlocked a pantry, which my mother would hold, to protect the precious stash of food stuff from the groveling peasants. at one time, this included 14 cake mixes and matching icings - because karen knew my sister and i were aching to bake a wedding cake behind her back and not share a crumb with her.

besides a locked pantry and established fear, my mother also had a hidden stash of food in her dresser - which would include multi-pack bars of candy, snack chips, nuts and other assorted treats any good diabetic needs. i knew all these secrets because, like my sister, i was part of the food resistance.

to digress, i too have inherited the ability of irrational blind rage - which i have been somewhat successful in suppressing with my drug and alcohol abuse. at times though, like the hulk, i loose control and become enraged - mostly on inanimate objects which laugh and taunt me.

since purchasing my razor (spelled razr by the assholes at motorola) phone, it has belittled me with mystery rings, scourged me with unintended photographs, and in general made calling friends and retrieving voice-mail unnecessarily difficult. this past sunday, while driving home from the national alliance of mental health fund raising walk (i kid you not), the phone mocked me for the very last time - incessantly ringing to tell me i had a voice mail - which i was already alerted to every 20 minutes for the previous 3 hours. my face turned green, my body grew, at first twice and then three times the size as normal and then, i snapped the phone in half.

now, many people would think i snapped the phone where the hinge was (as it was a flip phone). that my friends, would be for those without super hero strength. i snapped my phone in half right below the 4,5,6 buttons. later, i learned from the razr gestapo that i snapped the motherboard (her words, not mine) in half and rendered the phone useless (one tiny step below its original ranking if you ask me).

therefore, i do not have a phone at the moment, but look forward to my new blackberry i purchased online. i hope it is fully trained not to annoy me or else i may have to unleash the rage again in a sequel - 'son of killa gorilla.'

daddy needs his medicine

my favorite day is when i get to drink vodka until i start dancing around my living room to music on demand videos, then lay on the couch until i fall "asleep", wake up at 2am and debate whether i want to make the effort to take out my contacts or not (i always rally and take them out - ripping my corneas in the process - but they grow back, right?). of course this activity is one you can not do everyday or else you create habits that are frowned upon by your spouse who yet again has to listen to you belt out the lastest kayne west song. i love kayne west when i am drunk. no, this is a hobby you can only enjoy every now and then, and guess what - tonights the night!

mmmm, the vodka is so cold.

today was the first day back to work after "the man" took some of my intestines. it went fine, i am sore but nothing a fifth of vodka won't cure. it is very strange that the concept of sitting is painful. walk, stand, jumping jacks, dancing to kayne west is fine - sitting, painful. but that is what vodka is for.....

is daughter raping funny?

this was my facebook photo for a while. i thought it was funny, apparently some did not. i think it is funny cause it is so disturbing and so wrong. i mean its not like i dressed up as a poor abducted child for Halloween (BEFORE the body was found, thank you). is laughing at the horrible in the world so wrong? is it still wrong if i work for a non-profit?

jesus, so as i was writing that last sentence; it reminded me of sarah jessica parker's character in sex in the city - which by the way is coming out in a few weeks and i am so fucking excited. first i am going to make cosmopolitans with some of my close, yet completely different, assortment of friends (read: all white friends) - you know like an hbo version of the view (except we are all white). we will sip our tinis and talk about boys and then cry cause no one will love us cause we are a living cliche. it is going to be soooo fun. by the end of the night though, like the movie, someone will die. seriously, if you are going to see sex in the city movie, someone should die.

so back to my main man who keeps his incestuous family locked in the secret basement, while his non incestuous family lives above without any knowledge, i still think it is funny. but i relented and changed my photo to paula deen - although, to be quite frank, i don't see the difference.

inspired by friends

so ruske and jenna have both started blogs and inspired me to as well. at first i thought the idea of blogging to be obnoxious, but i actually really enjoy reading (and judging) jenna's notes of cultural differences between london and nyc (way to figure out you need to walk on the opposite side of the sidewalk as well as the road - how many poor bobbies were trampled before you realize this?) and ruske's browbeating of anthony to weed the garden. So I want to join the fun and welcome you all to make viscous comebacks.

i think this will be fun, or maybe i am really high or maybe a little from column "a" and a little from column "b"......