Dogs at eBay, a
new kookery, and ridiculous bumper stickers
--I’m thinking about selling our dog Andy in an internet
auction.That hound is pissing
me off, on a consistent basis.
All weekend he did that staring crap, where he sits in front of you
and shoots a laser beam, willing
you to do his bidding.I’ve
read several articles about border collies over the years, and their
intense stare is almost always mentioned.And Andy’s got that shit down to a science.
I’ll be reading the paper and drinking coffee or whatever, and Black
Lips Houlihan walks into the room and plops down at my feet.And he just looks at me, unmoving, for as long it takes.I resist as much as I can, but there’s no man alive who can
withstand a fixed Andy-stare.The
military should study it, they really should.
Usually he wants to go outside (again), so I cut loose with a loud “Grrrrrr…,”
slam the newspaper down, and open the front door.Then he goes out there and stands, like he’s made of ceramic.He leads me to believe he’s about to explode in a spectacular
supernova of pee, but does
he pee?No, he does not.He just stands on the sidewalk with his snout in the air, like
some elitist snob.
This morning I let him out as soon as I came downstairs, at 6:30.I figured I’d just
cut-out the middleman, and give him what he wants early.The staring is getting out of hand, and starting to put me in a
bad mood.So I thought
I’d take steps to limit it.
I was out there with him, drinking a little fresh-brewed Dunkin Donuts
coffee from a Sands Casino mug, when I noticed our domesticated pain
in the ass had locked-in on something.I didn’t see what he was looking at, but it seemed to be a
high-value target.
I gave him a warning in that menacing tone where you make it sound
like your jaw has been wired shut:“Don’t even think about it, Andy.You’re treading on thin ice, you little shitlick...”
Then I saw a fat man come shuffling up the hill sporting some sort of
ludicrous Frampton Comes Alive hairstyle,
and walking a schnauzer the size of a squirrel.And Andy went rocketing across the lawn, acting like a wolf in
full attack, just pulling with every ounce of his considerable power.
Old Fat Frampton began panic-yelling, “NO, NO, NO, NO!!” and
trying to put himself between Andy and the squirrel.I was hollering as well, and sprinting across the yard,
slopping coffee in every direction.
I threw the mug down, putting the collector’s item at great risk,
and did my best to defuse the situation.Andy stopped a few feet away from the tiny invader, thought it
over for a split second, then went after him again(!).There was just something about that thing he didn’t like...
I grabbed our dog’s collar, and tried to apologize to the guy.But he was pissed, and rightly so.I would’ve been mad too.In fact, I was.
But it’s a funny thing about Andy.Ninety-nine percent of the time he’s not a problem while
slinging urine in the yard.Folks
walk past, and he ignores them; he doesn’t even go after real
squirrels very often anymore.He
lulls us into a sense of complacency.
Heck, the people across the street are keeping one of those Lassie
dogs while their daughter is traveling somewhere, and Andy never even
looks in its direction.The
thing sits over there and barks at our house all day, and Andy
couldn’t give a single-dingle about it.
As far as I know, he’s never bitten anybody, or anything, in his
entire pampered life. So we don’t put him on a leash when he’s
outside doing his tip-toeing, snout-lifting, ceramic routine.Right or wrong, that’s how we do it. And
every once in a while he makes us pay for our misguided trust...
I’m going to start the bidding at fifteen dollars.
--Toney talked to her
sister yesterday, and she was distressed.Apparently they had visitors last weekend at their house in Canada, and were one-upped on the kook meter.
Yes, you read that correctly.
I’ve heard stories about these visitors through the years, and am
almost certain they lived in a mud shack at one point, with no
electricity or running water.If
my memory serves, they got into some low-watt trouble for birthing a
baby in this hippie utopia, but I can’t remember all the details.
One thing’s for certain, though: they’re hardcore vegans and
environmentalists, all taken to the fullest extreme.Toney’s sister admires their dedication, and talks about them
frequently.I’ve never
actually smelled these people, but I feel like I have…
Well, I guess being a strict vegan isn’t enough anymore.Apparently that’s far too common for folks like The Visitors,
and they need to constantly ratchet it up and stay a step ahead of the
pack, lest they lose their bragging rights.So, now they’ve proclaimed themselves localvores.
Have you ever heard of this?I
hadn’t, but I guess the concept is to only eat food grown locally.The Visitors supposedly won’t touch anything unless it was
grown within a 25 mile radius of where they live, because they don’t
approve of trucking food here and there, and polluting the
environment.
The only problem?They
live way up in Washington State somewhere, so they can no longer eat citrus fruit or bananas, or any
of that stuff.Their diet
was already limited, but now I guess they’re living on potatoes and
water?I don’t know…
Toney’s sister was caught off-guard by this fresh kookery, and felt
deep shame when one of her kids came in and asked for “a segment of
clementine.”That shit
probably came all the way from Brazil, or something…
How will she ever look any of her colleagues
in the eye again?
--Speaking of
nuttiness…I took the
younger Secret to school this morning, and a woman we call The Knitter
(it’s a long story) was in front of us.She drives a bright-red
Toyota
of some sort, and is always near the front of the line.
But this morning there was something different about her car:there was a big ol’ Sunoco sticker, roughly the size of a 45
rpm record sleeve, plastered on her bumper.
Why?!This is an expensive
car, not some shuddering hunk o’ junk.Why in God’s name would you put a sticker advertising a gas
station on the bumper of a $30,000 vehicle?Or even a $500 vehicle, for that matter?
Same goes for those AAA stickers.Or as they call it in
California, for some reason, the Auto Club.Is that supposed to be prestigious?As far as I know they’ll let anyone in, as long as you pay
the fifty bucks, or whatever.It’s
not exactly Harvard, is it?
And State Farm!I just
don’t understand any of it.These
are not great accomplishments, worth bragging about.Being allowed to buy
car insurance is not all that special.Why not put a big signboard on the front of your house that
says, “Sometimes we eat corn up in here.”
I’ve never had a bumper sticker on any of my cars.Shortly after we moved to
Southern California
I started feeling cut-off from the real world, and put a small WVU
logo on the rear window of my car.But that’s about it.I’m
not really a bumper sticker kinda guy.
I can come up with my own “witty” sayings, thank you very much, I
don’t need to buy ‘em at Spencer’s in the mall.Sports teams?Hell
no.We Visited (Some
Place)?Nobody gives a
shit.Politics?And become one of those people others say heeeeere we go about?I
don’t think so.
But that’s just me.What
about you?Do you have any
bumper stickers on your car right now?Care to describe ‘em for us?How about puzzling stickers you’ve seen on other peoples’
cars?Use the comments
link to tell us all about it, won’t you?
And I’ll give this another try tomorrow.
See ya then.
I need to go on the Jeff Kay
plan, and just hang-out
--