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.
Monday, September 28, 2009
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.
(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.
Monday, September 21, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
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
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
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