Aye, the Nerve!

Listen up kids. I am not going to pretend I am rich, or that I drive a fancy car. I am 24 years old and am not able to save any money. For that reason, I drive my boyfriend's old car, a 1990 Honda Accord. It is a stick, I don't have a heart attack if someone dings my door, and it gets about 35 MPG.

Last week, I walked out to my car and found a business card on the windshield for a tow truck company. It did not match the one my building uses, so I called the number to see if anyone was trying to have me towed. The woman I spoke with informed me that no one had called to try to have me towed. And that is when I noticed it. The business card also said "We buy Junk Cars!" I also noticed someone had written their name and phone number on the back of the card.

I asked the woman, still on the phone, "Who is Lacey Goldblum?" She replied, "Oh he is one of ours sales people!"

Me: "Did he seriously leave this card on my car because he thought it was a junker and I'd want to sell it to him? What kind of nerve does this guy have?!"
Lady: "Uh, I am not sure why he left it. I hope he didn't offend you."

Well guess what lady, he did offend me. Do I go around posting signs on unfortunate looking children "We Babysit Ugly Children"? No I don't. Sure the car isn't in the greatest of shape, but it gets great gas mileage and gets me from point A to B.

I know the economy is grim, but should that make it okay for people to ignore common courtesy? I called Lacey back and HE didn't answer. What a skirt.

What Did you EAT!?

My dogs have never been well-behaved and probably never will be. They are dogs. I try to control them, and they get even more out of control much the same way abstinent couples do right after the wedding ceremony. They are friendly, cute and they have never growled or bitten anyone - EVER. So I figure if I have to deal with a chewed up book or them getting into the trash, then so be it.

This was my thinking before Tuesday of this week. I opened the door after a long day of work, only to find my birth control tattered and empty laying on the kitchen floor. My immediate thought was "Those a-holes! Aetna won't let me get another pack when I just got one on SUNDAY!" not "OMG my babies are going to die!" Besides, they seemed fine. I bet after the first two paragraphs, you now have no doubt in your mind I am going to be a great mother.

I called the pharmacy to find out if I could get another pack. No prob. Then I called Poison Control too see if I would be able to have the pleasure of pouring hydrogen peroxide down their throats until they puked. Not even that lucky. Apparently my birth control doesn't have iron in it, which is the only cause for concern when canines try to 'be responsible.' They didn't even get an upset stomach, and they ate 2 weeks + placebo pills.

My boyfriend Mike is definitely a boob man. Tiny Child (this is what he calls Shame) just loves Mike. Trick and I think that Shame was trying to grow boobies so Mike would love her more than me (6 boobies vs 2 boobies) and that Nugget was trying to get a higher octave position in choir. What is wrong with speculation?

Dear Diary: It's Me, Facebook Status Abuser

Dear Fellow Facebook users:

In case you haven't noticed, Facebook is not a diary. You cannot pour your heart out in your status and keep it private - people read it. Lots of people. Some things, I do not want to see. For example:

Issue #1 - Indirect Slam Via Status (ISVS)
I don't want to read your article from www.theknot.com and try to figure out which bridesmaid you are indirectly trying to shame. Also, let's try not to post obviously one-sided material that attacks a few individuals on your friends list. Clearly, it isn't necessary for friends to have the same interests or beliefs. You should be more careful and thoughtful as to what you post. You may not realize it, but someone (your friend, her mother, her sister and dog) is watching.

Issue #2 - Super Duper Boyfriends
If you love someone, more than likely we're your friends and we know about it, so don't splatter idiotic statuses like "OMG MY BF IS SOOOOOOO great." Lots of us have super boyfriends - keep it private. Also, for those of us that don't have boyfriends, we don't really care to hear how great yours is. Besides, my boyfriend could beat up your boyfriend.

Issue #3 - TMI
Listen, my bosses know that Facebook is always up on my computer at work. Point is, when I have downtime, it helps take my mind off of work issues. Under no circumstances do I feel that every moment of my life has to be documented on Facebook. I learned Michael Jackson was dead via Facebook before my CNN ticker even popped up. No one wants to hear "Tying my new shoelaces!" or "Feeding my precious feline Fancy Feast." Take up a new hobby.

Going Forward...
Simply put, a status should be one you can keep for at least a couple hours and isn't going to piss (me) anyone off. Mine - lasts at least a week. It should have an overarching theme. It should be short and to the point.

Come on people. I want to see a funny quote, an inspiring article, or a LOL youtube video. Even a bad joke would be better than what I've been seeing lately. We're adults. You have a problem with someone, tell them, not the 3 million users that Facebook now has. Statuses like the ones listed above are why Facebook should make a "Dislike" option.

Hooker drops crack for cigs and a cell phone

Normally when people ask me for change, a cigarette, a 40 oz., I always politely answer "nope, sorry!" and keep walking. On Saturday, I was going out to see my former boss Tracy who has since been traveling the world. I don't know if it was because the frenzy of excitement to see her was covering up the rational part of my brain, but when this particularly wormy woman asked "Can you do me a favor?" the following ensued.

Wormy Woman: "Can you do me a favor?"
Me: "Let me guess, you want a cigarette?"
Wormy Woman: "Yes, and would you mind if I used your phone?"

I am sure I showed an immediate look of annoyance, while digging around for my phone and cigarettes so this stringer could rape me in the smallest sense. She dialed my phone (of course it was long distance), and while she was talking I handed her my pack of cigs.

Wormy Woman: "Can you pull one out for me?"
Me: "Sure! Did you want me to exhale it into your mouth too?"

Honestly woman, have you looked in a mirror? Does it look like I should be doing you favors? Not only do I have cuter dogs, I am taller and outweigh your drug-addicted body by at least 20 lbs, not to mention my fuse is shorter than your need to shoot-up again.

A normal looking man asked me for 45 cents this morning for the bus. I didn't even look at him.

People say living in NYC changes your life. Welcome to Capitol Hill.

Lucid Dreams = Weird Looks from Pets

First of all, let me apologize. This actually happened on Thursday night/Friday morning.

(Backstory: for any of you that have been living under a rock for the past 2 weeks, there was a supposed terrorist link arrested in a suburb of Denver).

I always dream very vividly, but when I preface sleep with wine I dream very lucidly. With that being said, I laid my head down after chatting with my great boyfriend in anticipation of what dreams would come. I often incorporate sounds from real life into my dreams, so I was dreaming that this 'terrorist' was setting off bombs in downtown Denver. I am sure I was kicking and moving a lot which probably pissed off Shame because it was so lifelike.

Then the big boom came! Rattling windows and shaking walls caused me to wake up (I use the term loosely) throw the covers off my bed, grab my Shame and Nugget and hide in the closet. It took about 30 seconds for me to come out of my sleep and really realize what was happening (plus, Nugget was blinking at me like it should make a 'clink' sound when his eyelids touched, and Shame just had a look of general distaste that was probably eating away at my sleep).

I heard another bang, but this time, it was a familiar sound. Ahh, thunder.

I went back to sleep and dreamed that I was famous and everyone was taking my picture when lightening flashed outside.

Some Short Stories

Ok. Sometimes things happen to me that don't necessitate a whole blog entry. I have put them in a few small paragraphs below.

1. Last week, I was walking to work when I noticed a woman in an electric wheelchair really catching some speed on an uneven sidewalk. For those of you that don't know, those suckers can really haul ass. I moved over to the edge of the sidewalk, thinking she had enough room to get by. Oh no. She wanted to go Bangalore style and ran me off the sidewalk! Whorish.

*Related Story on why I know how fast electric wheelchairs are: My friend Lindsay ZT (shoutout) in college stole Wheel Chair Dave's HoverRound while he was in a local pizza joint, and man that thing could really take off. Even up hill. He didn't really need it, he could walk perfectly fine. The cost of living was so low in Athens, Ohio that he used his money to purchase his 'free' Rascal so he wouldn't have to walk up and down the hills.

2. I was walking my dogs outside and saw a mattress propped up against the dumpster. Written on it was "Don't Use - Bugs." Did I mention this was right outside my bedroom window?

3. Today, same woman. Wet sidewalk. Same speed. Splash. My jeans are wet.

Watch out for that Puddle!

Well I have two interesting stories from the weekend that involve urination in public places (you're thinking, 'only two?' but it has been a bit slow). Here they are:

Story #1 - Saturday September 5th
On Saturday, my best friend Jess, myself and my sexy boyfriend Mike decided it might be fun to partake in the Taste of Colorado. For those of you that are living under a rock or too busy playing WoW (note previous entry), Taste of Colorado is a venue where restaurants and small shops can infiltrate a small section of downtown with overpriced samples and well, junk. Sometimes it is fun, but I always end up hating the crowds and the ignorant/smelly/annoying riff raff that inevitably patrol these types of events, so it got old - real fast.

We all decided to get some ribs and sit in the Civic Center Park. This red-headed gingerbaby (scary enough on its own) was crying non-stop because it had to go to the bathroom and no one would take him. We overheard his mother whisper "pull down your pants, lay on your belly, and pee into the grass." Well. Isn't that charming?

Story #2 - Tuesday, September 8th
I walk to work everyday. It is only about 15 - 20 minutes, but it allows me to blow off any gathered steam from the morning with my a-hole dogs and from the day at work with numerous other a-holes. This particular morning, I was reading and typing on my Blackberry. I noticed a vagabond up ahead of me shuffling around and paid no attention to him. I saw out of my frontal periphery that he had stopped. I didn't realize WHY until I passed him.

He had his pants pulled down around his knees and was pissing on the sidewalk. Please also note that this was at 9am on a Tuesday on a fairly busy road. He wasn't even using his hands to direct his flow of urine. He literally just pulled down his pants and was pissing. When I passed him, he let out a stifled "Oh....SHIT!" but I felt like the more appropriate response was "Oh PISS."

When I reminisced about that special moment, I was happy he didn't splash me with urine and even happier I didn't remember seeing his junk.

Seriously people, if you have to go that bad, find an empty 40oz of King Cobra and fill that up. You could probably even make some money selling it back to the liquor stores. Think about it.

J

WoW, mind yo bidniss

Mondays. One word never carried so much meaning.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to greet the day and take my dogs outside. Now for any of you that smoke cigarettes, you can relate with how important the first one of the day is. Gives you that legit dizzy/nauseous feeling and really makes your brain wake up, even if it is waking up to die.

Whenever I am walking my dogs and someone is coming towards me, I pull my dogs to the side so that person doesn't have to walk on the grass or get licked to death by little Nugget - see below (Shame is quite anti-social). I consider it common courtesy.



Monday morning, walking my dogs, smoking my cig and carrying a bag of poop, I am sure I was more stunning that the image you have in your head right now. I turn the corner and notice a man RIGHT THERE, so I make an obvious effort to try to pull tiny Nugget away from him so he can continue walking in peace. Below is the exchange that occurred.

WoW fan: "You know, I can get them to listen to you."
Me: *stunned sleepy face*
WoW fan: "All you have to do is make up a command for them, like 'Here!' or 'Come!' and when they do, you give them a treat. Then after awhile, they will just come on command and you won't need a treat."

After this he gave me a self-accomplished smile, and waited for me to thank him and tell him that he was the best person ever, and no, that it wasn't obvious he lived in his grandma's basement, listened to Depeche Mode and played World of Warcraft while drinking the newest energy drink. When he did not receive this much wanted verbal response and only received a blank stare laden with signs of boiling rage he decided to throw in this anecdote:

WoW fan: "Oh and you might want to smoke your cigarette BEFORE you take your dogs for a walk."

I was immediately awake with a soaring blood pressure. With nothing else to say...

Angry Julie: "Go back to your WoW game ass douche."

Why do people feel the need to comment on what I am doing? I made an effort to pull the dogs to one side of the sidewalk so he could walk by, and he berates me and tells me I am a bad owner because I don't teach my dogs fancy commands and smoke cigarettes while not teaching them fancy commands. I don't comment (to your face) on how pale you are, or how badly you need a haircut, or how stupid it is to wear socks with sandals, do I? Nor did I tell you to do all of that at the same time, because telling complete strangers how they should take care of their health, dogs, children, hygiene, cars etc is NOT COOL.

Unless you're their mom.

J

It's a bird, it's a plane...

Everyone loves a surprise. You get all your security deposit back on your old apartment, your hoopdi is suddenly worth $3500 when you bought it for $1500 thanks to cash for clunkers. But sometimes, it is the little surprises that not everyone likes.

I am a regular pooper. None of that 'Oh shit I have to shit' in the afternoon crap. It comes down the pipe after I walk my dogs and smoke my first cigarette in the morning. Like clockwork people, it's great.

But this morning, that wasn't the case.

I was halfway around the block when I felt an uncomfortable cramping in my stomach. The kind where you think 'Oh shit I have to shit NOW' and begin panic and clench mode. I tried to walk it off and let out a little toot to ease the pain and suffering. Only the toot came with a little frootie. Yes, it's a bird, it's a plane...no Julie, it is a little morsel of feces.

No big deal. It has happened before once. The story of the induction to the Shart Club is below.

I had been dating this super hot dude name Mike for about 2 months. I slept over at his house after a long night of drinking and partying. As most of you know, the morning after farts the catalysts from the hungover nausea you will be feeling the rest of the day. Knowing this, I was desperately trying to hold in a few sheet-busters, when it finally became too painful I quietly got out of bed, quietly shut the door, and made a beeline for the bathroom. On the way to the pot, I was tooting up a storm.

When I finally got to Mecca, I found a little morsel in my underpants. WHAT! Instead of shock and embarassment, I was really excited. I felt like I now belonged to some uber-nasty secret club. I did my biz, and ran in to tell Mike the good news.

He looked sleepily at me, frowned and told me to sleep in the guest bedroom.

Eh. At least I belong now.

FU Pigeon Feeder - Round 2

Ahhh, Thursday. One day before Friday and one day after hump day. My company has been taunting me with a new Blackberry Curve, and it was confirmed Wednesday that I would be getting it today. As silly as it sounds, getting a new Blackberry that is in clear working order really made me want to wake up and greet the day.

I wake up, stretch it out yoga-style and decide to let the light shine on me. I open my heavy thermal blinds (proof I may or may not be a vampire) and shortly after I hear a sound that is all too familiar. The deafening roar of the winged crusaders - pigeons. You know it is never a good sign when you can hear your death coming before you see it.

Please note that I was in my bedroom, which, as you may remember from a previous post, looks out upon an alleyway / parking lot. I peeked out my blinds - too frightened to open them all the way - and to my horror and disdain, there they were. Winged devils. Lucifer's messengers. God's aviary mistakes. Dining on hamburger buns. One was flapping his wings in the most possessively demonic manner and sent shudders up and down my spine. I also saw one and managed to snap a quick PHO-TO:



I did not see who the culprit was, so I am not sure if it was the same gnarly woman as the previous post. This criminal left hamburger buns instead of generic Wonderbread, so it was most likely a one-off job or a double conspiracy.

Denver, I ask you, why? Why is it necessary to feed these heathens? They serve no purpose. They hardly ever die, and when they do it is a blessing to us all and most likely never due to starvation.

Instead of complain, I am going to take action. Please see below for details:



Alka Seltzer mixes with the bacteria killers in a pigeons (and seagulls) stomach. It fizzes and causes them to explode. (Demonic grin).

I wouldn't do that, but push me and you'll at least be gassy.

Death to pigeons.

To Stretch or not to Stretch

My friend Jess is probably the most self-less girlfriend I have ever had. She could tell I was starting to wear a bit thin, so she decided to use some of her spa gift certificates and treat me to my first massage ever. To try to show my appreciation back her, I took her to a kitschy neighborhood sushi bar. We are girlfriends, we love and spoil each other to the point of making our real boyfriends jealous.

We were getting to the closing of our meal, when I heard something metal drop on the floor. I thought it might have been a piece of my ring or an earring, so without thinking I picked it up off the ground. Only then did I realize what it was.

A look of horror spread across my face as I dropped this little treasure onto the table. My friend Jess exclaimed, "Oh my God, do you know what that is?!?" I obviously did because I literally ejected it from my grasp. I replied to her nonsensical, rhetorical question, yelling "Uh yes, it is someone's EAR GAUGE!" We laughed only to prevent the delicious meal we just had from being projected out of our bodies, but it was horrifying.

For those of you that are not familiar with what an ear gauge is, please see picture below.


An ear gauge is something that is meant to slowly give you a large hole in your ear lobe. You are just stretching our your ear lobe until you realize what you're doing is a ridiculous fad and really only an accepted physical deformation in some third world cultures. The picture above is a practical use for the excessively large hole in the lobe, but is in no way close to the size of the gauge I picked up.

After I had let the whole restaurant know what I had unwittingly just picked up, the girl sitting catty-corner from us felt her ear lobes, turned quite red and said "Oh my gosh, that is mine." That is all. No, "Hey sorry you had to pick up my nasty ear elongating device during dinner at a nice restaurant" or "Sorry I couldn't pick up a larger gauge this weekend - my dogs jumped out the car window and were seriously injured." Nothing.

The best part?

You know how some sushi restaurants gives you warm little towels to wash up with before you eat? Well, normally I always use mine at the beginning of the meal, but for whatever reason, Saturday I did not use it meal-prior. Thus, I got to use my nice, clean, warm hand towel AFTER I picked up Yucky McYuckerson's ear goop laden gauge. This I consider as more proof that God likes watching funny things happen to me without giving any repercussion.

Keep on keeping on big G,

J

Randoms

Some of the things that happen to me do not entail a long drawn out narrative, but can be explained in a couple short sentences. Here are a few things that happened in the past couple of days:

I was driving my car and was stopped at a red light by a bus stop. This old 'hippie' wearing a Canadian tuxedo (for those of you that don't know, that's denim on the top and bottom of an outfit) with the sleeves cut off. He yelled 'Peace in Vietnam!' and threw up a peace sign at me. I of course, obliged by throwing up a peace sign with him. He thought this was hilarious. The light turned green.

Whenever I call my friend Jess or answer her calls, my usual greeting for her is a loving "What up ho?" or "What up trick?" Not sure why, but I find it funny to call her that. Consider it a term of endearment. I called her phone and gave the normal address, to which I hear on the other end "Oh, well this isn't Trick, this is Trick's mom. I will definitely give her the message though." Good thing I am pretty in with Jess' parents, because that could have been bad.

I live close to a "Gay Neighborhood" (there's one in every city) but it doesn't bother me. I have my own special gay husband and have frequented the gay bars numerous times, so I would be confident saying that I am comfortable with the gay community. My boyfriend even likes when I go out with my gay husband because 1) rarely do you find a straight guy in a gay bar, thus lowering my chances of being rufied/raped/hit on and 2) nothing is scarier than a bitchy queen. I was walking my poochies and I saw two gay men embraced in a kiss. No prob - seen it a bajillion times at JRs. I caught the eye of one of the dudes, who then proceeded to wink at me while still kissing his lover. Friendly invite? Posing a question of jealousy? No idea, but quite odd.

More to follow, some day.

J

My Super Hero Dogs - Shame the Indestructible and Nugget the Canine Tank

Let me preface this story with a little history of my dogs.



Shame (aka, Doodie, Most Evil, Lily and Munkee) is a 6lbs Yorkshire Terrier. She can be both the sweetest and most hurtful dog at the same time. When she was about 6 months old, she was so excited to see my boyfriend Mike that she forewent the stairs and decided to jump off the 2nd story balcony. Onto concrete. She yelped while my boyfriend took some anxiety pills - he saw her jump - while I calmly felt her bones for breaks and belly for soreness. Nothing. A 6lbs dog jumps off a 15 foot high balcony onto concrete and has nothing wrong with her.



Nugget (aka Little Man, White Nightmare - pic above is him as a puppy) is a 10lb West Highland Terrier. He is much stockier than my Shame and much more reckless. Bumps into doors, falls up the stairs, you know, normal things. He hasn't had any life threatening events, until today.

My dogs figured out that if you stand on the arm rest in the back seat of the car, the window will roll down. Most dogs view this as a opportunity to feel the fresh mountain air blowing through their hair. Apparently that was what my dogs did as well, until this morning.

8am driving down a busy street in Littleton at 40mph. I was in a Honda Passport, a relatively large car and my doggies were in the back seat. Please note that Nugget consistently pukes in the back of my car and neither of them really like riding in cars. For them, it is the destination, not the journey.

The dogs had rolled down the windows and I checked on them through the sideview mirror. Anyone who says that dogs don't smile is an idiot. Shame and Nugget were hanging out the window with smiles ear to ear. Then I heard a yelp, looked back, and saw that Shame was no longer in the car. I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw my little baby running across the busy road.

Never did the thought "Julie, be cautious and slowly pull over, for if you make a rash decision you could get into a car accident" enter my mind. I slammed on my brakes and swerved over to the right hand side of the road. I jumped out of the car and ran over to her - instead of running towards me she just sat down and waited for me to get there. Luckily, a car had stopped behind her so no one would hit her. PHEW!

I ran her back to the car and made a mental note of feeling something under Shame's tail. Once Shame is safe, I discover that Nugget is no where to be found. I looked around and saw a car with hazards on, and I immediately panic. Was Nuggie hit? Was Nuggie injured? I run towards the car and once I got close enough, I see my little monster sitting on the front seat of this guy's car just hangin' out. I tell the guy thank you and run my tank back to the car.

I did a pat down to check for painful spots on the dogs and checked for blue belly (internal bleeding makes the belly turn blue) and they were all set. I remember the thing I felt on Shame's butt and started freaking that she could have pulled a pink sock on me (aka, her rectum was now outside her body). I looked down, and saw a little bit of pink. 'Oh F!'

Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was one of my hot pink ear plugs that she had swallowed whole. Yes my friends, not only did my little Shame evade cars and death, but she also managed to pass an entire, whole ear plug.

None of this amazes me in the least. As I mentioned in a previous blog, I don't think God is punishing me with these events happening to me. If he were, the events would end worse than what they do. I think he just finds me funny and likes to 'spice it up' by watching these things happen to me. At times I think it is unbelievable and I thought a lot about how lucky I was, but its always nice to think that someone is watching out for me, even if he/she is laughing, of course.

J

I may or may not have Rabies/Shingles

I was really worried by Saturday night that I wouldn't have any material for my blog on Monday. Nothing exciting happened either weekend night, and I knew we would be spending Sunday at WaterWorld, the nation's largest water park. Lest I be disappointed.

My friend Jess is going to be a great mother. She really goes out of her way to make everyone feel happy and full when we go on adventures to amusement parks. On Sunday, she had packed everything one could have hoped for and made a lovely picnic. Bread, assorted deli meats, cheeses, even an avocado and sprouts! I mean, stellar.

We all sit down after the first three hours of being at a family waterpark to fill up on enough food to keep our energy going for the rest of the day, being careful however to make sure we don't eat so much that we get a cramp. In anticipation of the delicious sandwich, I am the first to crack open the bread. I notice there is a hole in the bag with a chunk missing from a couple pieces of bread. I figure that one of the other food products ripped the bag and damaged the bread, so I took the unwhole pieces of bread and moved on.

As I was about to devour my last bite of the delicious sandwich that I had been looking forward to, a woman comes up to us and asks :

Lady: "Hey is your food ok?"
Us: "Uh, yeah. Why?"
Lady: (giggle) "Oh there was just the darnedest squirrel in your bag! My son chased him away for you."

She continued to stand there as if her white knight of a son deserved a thank you. Sadly, everyone was looking through their food for poop/errant hairs/nibbles and too busy to care about thanking the good samaritan. Everyone, that is, except me. Of course my greed and hunger would be punished in this fashion. I explained to everyone why my face was white and why I had stopped chewing my last bite of sandwich. My boyfriend calmly explained to me that since it was a waterpark squirrel, it was probably safe because he only interacts with other waterpark squirrels and not nasty city squirrels. You know, the nasty city squirrels are the only ones that disease ridden rodents, so I shouldn't worry. WHAT. God should stop trying to mold me into a perfect person by immediately punishing me for actions that resemble the deadly sins. However, I am starting to think that I amuse him, so he does this on purpose.

Oh, but that is not all. While the guys were on the 'Screamin Mimi' the girls and Jess' boyfriend Joe went to hang out at the lazy river. This ride is perfect after a big lunch, especially when your stomach is churning at the idea of what else that squirrel ate. We were floating along, letting the current take us where it might, when I spotted him: Scabs McGee.

Now we all know that at times, waterparks don't have enough water to provide enough lubrication to get down the slide without a burn or a scrape of the spine. The lightning rod of pain that shoots throughout the body is enough to make anyone fear the steepest speed slide. Scabs McGee was a whole other story.

This guy was on his tube, back towards us, with what looked like nothing other split open shingles torn open on one of Waterworld's many attractions. Not only was his entire back red and open-sore looking, but there was BLOOD dripping down his back and into the pool. Here is a pic:



1. How could you not feel the pain of this and maybe take a look?
2. Who is this guy hanging around and why aren't their balls big enough to let him know both for the sake of his pride and the sake of public health that this is happening to him?
3. LIFEGUARDS. Do your job. Get that guy out of the water and guard my life.

Needless to say, we ran with the current as fast as you can in the water and with a tube towards the exit.

Ahhh, WaterWorld. Communicable diseases and fearless rodents. What more could you ask for?

Yes, He took it to a Whole New Level

I was taking my dogs out last night after putting away the spoils from my most recent conquer of Target for a potty break. There was a man of questionable intentions walking down the street. Allow me to describe: he was an older man with the face (and I'm sure, mouth) like a sailor; tanned, wrinkled and probably had the secrets to all the world's mysteries. He was obviously homeless and more obviously drunk, and I am guessing the coffee cup he was holding in his shaking hand was not indeed coffee. He was mumbling to himself and staggering around the street, so I politely pulled my dogs aside and let him pass.

While I was waiting for the Little White Man to tell me it was ok to cross the street, I nonchalantly looked back to see how far his 'sea legs' got him down the sidewalk. There he was, hugging and kissing a tree. I live on kind of a busy road, but this did not seem to phase him. He just kept hugging and kissing this innocent tree that was just minding it's own business. I think I even saw a little tongue.

Being the person that I am, I laughed and sent out a massive text: "I just saw a hobo hugging and kissing a tree - thinking of you." The world invariably keeps spinning, so I moseyed on waiting on baited breath for one of my little canine's to poo. I wrote the old man off as just another weird story to post on my blog. Until...

I was walking my dogs this morning, and decided to walk by the tree that the old man had accosted the night before. I don't really know what I was looking for; lipstick, drool, his empty 'coffee' cup, but something was drawing me back to that spot. And to my shock and horror, this is what I found:



Now, for anyone who has been in or around the undercarriage of a woman, you would notice that this tree has some incredible similarities to some female anatomy. Once I realized the reason this old man was spending so much time showing his affection for this particular piece of foliage, my immediate reaction was to laugh hysterically at the entire situation. I mean, imagine the timing that I have been blessed with by the Gods, and adding to that the curiosity to go back to that tree and investigate it after its prior molestation. AND, not to mention the fact that this random old drunk perv was hugging and making out with a tree that looked like the beautiful anatomy of a woman.

I continue to be amazed, and am proud to share my adventures with you.

I hope I see that guy again.

Cheers

F U Pigeon Feeder

Let me preface this posting with the understanding that my anger is not directed towards the rats with wings described in this article. The pigeons mentioned in this article are just fuel for the fire of my ranting.

I am a female living alone in a first floor apartment in Denver. Granted, Denver is not exactly Gotham City, but living on the first floor in any city leaves you susceptible to strange happenings and encounters with odd strangers. And to make things even shinier, my bedroom and bathroom window look out onto an alleyway! I know the charm of it all is quite overwhelming, but it is cheap and I can walk to work - sue me.

While leaving my apartment complex to take my dogs out for a final walk before leaving for work, I noticed a suspicious character walking around the dumpster carrying a bag of generic Wonderbread (yes it does exist). Normally, something like this would not phase me, because as I mentioned before, living in a city allows you to encounter all kinds of unstable individuals. However, on this day, I did a double-take. Perhaps it was her blonde/grey hair, her stained beater or faded sweatshorts. Perhaps it was her different colored tube socks, or the fact that her face reminded me of the old man on the cover of "The Giver" (see link for details http://ariabooksellers.files.wordpress.com/2009/02/9780385732550_giver.jpg). Or maybe, it could have even been my sheer shock at the possibility of there being a generic Wonderbread.

Upon turning around, to my horror I discovered this 'woman' dumping the bread out in the middle of the alley. Then she tweeted a little. I thought, "Well this is a bit peculiar." But my curiosity soon turned to blind rage when my mind extrapolated what this weirdo was doing. Infuriated, I yelled at her.

Me: "That is really gross. Can't you go to the park and sit on a park bench and do that?"
Vagabond: "But it is for the birds! They are hungry too you know!"

Millions of things ran through my mind at this point. I soon realized that the only type of bird that would eat this 'bread' was a pigeon - God's worst creation. Pigeons being pigeons, I knew that any other smaller, daintier bird with a sweeter song would not have an ice cube's chance in hell at even a blink at the 'bread.' And really - do you think pigeons are hungry? I am pretty sure they are the aviary cousin of goats and catfish, and will eat anything that fits into their mouth (or beak). Not to mention that pigeons are so determined in their quest for food that many an innocent bystander has been caught off-guard by their last minute decision to fly and by the impending thought of these winged demons getting stuck in their hair. Also, who knows what was in that generic Wonderbread under the ingredients information? Perhaps steroids to make these aerial vermin more vigorous in their crusade for food - one can only hope. Finally, who is going to be there to squeegee the pigeon crap off my window and car? Certainly not you lady, because given by the recent actions I witnessed and your flair for fashion, I wouldn't trust you around anything I owned or leased.

I contemplated staying there with my two dogs and trying to scare the pigeons away, but I reminded myself of the temperament of pigeons and much like Canadian geese, they will strike without warning and aim right for the jugular. Hindsight being 20/20, I probably should have mentioned that where she was dropping her 'bread' was right outside my bedroom and bathroom window and maybe she would have come to her senses enough to realize what she was doing was inconsiderate. Or maybe she would have maced me and tweeted for the pigeons to peck me to death while I was a writhing pile of pain on the alleyway. Who knows?

Living in a city so close to other people, I feel that there are certain unspoken understandings amongst city-dwellers. For example, here are some things that are okay to do:

- running through a freshly red light
- parallel parking 12 inches off the curb
- turning left on a one-way street
- feeding birds and other wildlife at one of Denver's many lush parks

There are also things that are not okay to do whilst living within city limits

- not picking up dog poo
- side-swiping bikers
- FEEDING PIGEONS IN AN ALLEY

Seriously.

Thanks for listening.