The fastest NYC tour of my life occurred this weekend with my brother, Noah, sister-in-law Mindi and their a-dor-a-ble children, Julie (5) and Joey (2.5). It was insane. It was crazy. It was awesome. Some of the high-highlights include: Joey absolutely freaking out every time he got to right the "Choo-choo train!" (ie the nasty black hole of a subway). He kept singing, "I'm gonna wide the choo-choo twain, I'm gonna wide the choo-choo twain, CHOO-CHOO!" Nonstop. For four days. And now, it's my favorite song too. Only sometimes, he would replace CHOO-CHOO! with POO-POO! and then die laughing like it was the funniest thing since Chevy Chase in this movie. I mean, hysterically laughing that deep belly laugh where he was almost choking. I couldn't get enough of it.
Also, the looks on both of their faces while going through the Natural History Museum was awesome. The hits were: the Dinosaurs, the Snake fossils, and of course, the Whale. I highly recommend this stop on the NYC tour with small children. Noah and Mindi were a little hesitant to take them to a boring museum, but people, trust me. This ain't no boring museum. We also ate New York City hotdogs and walked through Central Park at 81st Street, which is definitely the best entrance to CP because Belvedere's Castle is right there and so is Shakespeare Garden. Not to mention the Puppet Show. Don't even mention it. Don't. I'm warning you. Leave the Puppet Show out of this. Okay, thank you.
We did Rockefeller and Times Square - although telling two small children about the Giant! Christmas! Tree! for three full days and finally getting there only to see it not lit up is a major no-no. Don't try that at home. Julia had this look on her face that said, "Really? You're not shitting me right now? Like, this is it?" But what she really said was, "You know, my Daddy is putting up our Christmas lights as soon as we get home," which equally made Noah swell with pride and me feel like crap in one foul swoop. Well done. Keep setting them up for disappointments, Aunt Tete. Stellar job. Yikes. They loved watching the ice skaters at Rockefeller and the food at the Rock Cafe was surprisingly good, though expectedly expensive. How's that for alliteration?
I secretly forced some selfish endeavors into the weekend... Yeah, Fan Yang is so freaking cool, he will take you places you've never imagined. Although, parts of his show were slightly odd and even bordering on weirdo-nation. Anywho- the bubbles were cool. Also, kinda really wanted to go to FAO, and got to indulge my inner child there too, but I restrained myself from dancing on the giant floor piano a la Big.
All in all, very fun, very busy trip. Children were angels during all of it. Amazing. Will post pics at a later date.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving!
Turkey Day 2007 is quickly approaching and I am devising a smorgasbord at this very minute. Here's what we've got so far:
* 3 Turkey Legs (Why 3? I don't really know.)
* 1 Turkey Breast (Had to order the little guy in pieces 'cause my oven's too small to fit him whole. Holy tiny apartment living.)
* Creamy Smashed Potatoes (ala G-dog)
* Grandma's Cranberry Salad
* Delicious Corn Pudding
* Piping Hot Pumpkin Pie
* Delicate Whipped Topping
Yes! I just realized we need some sort of festive holiday drink, possibly eggnog? Hot cider? Beer? Good idea. We're also going to eat, just the two of us, in our apartment with our wedding china, which we've never even opened yet. This is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever, so why does everyone I tell about it keep giving me with this sad look and offering to invite us over to their house instead? I do not need Thanksgiving Adopted. I'm just fine, spank you very much. And do you think my cooking is really that bad? Geez, tough crowd.
I also realized this year that I like Thanksgiving more than Christmas, actually. There's all of the family togetherness (well, aside from this year - whoopsie) and none of the Retail/Consumerism BS. So long as we don't turn on the Parade or go shopping on Friday, neither of which I do. So here's to Thanksgiving 2007, may your gullets be full from morning until night!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Weekend Update
So this sucks. And yes, especially if you're at the game, soaking wet, watching it happen in slow motion. I just can't explain the connection to Michigan football with ordinary sports fan vocabulary terms. It's like a member of my family, who everybody loves, who works so hard all the time expecting nothing in return, who doesn't claim to be perfect, just dedicated and committed to its other members and its leaders. I'm so proud of them. I'm so proud of Lloyd Carr for an amazing career and for leaving a legacy of hard work and good ethics to his team. I'm excited for the future of the program and all the places it will go. I can't wait for the next home game: August 30, 2008. Go Blue. Bring it on.
I also possibly broke my foot on Saturday while attempting to take down the tailgating tent. See, logistically, 4 metal tent poles collected into a group totaling approximately 50 lbs should cause intense pain and death upon one's foot, should said group land squarely on one of the feet falling unobstructed from a height of 6-7 feet in the air* (see attached photo). Breaky footy no funny.
Caution: corny story ahead.
On my outbound flight to D-Troit Rock City, I shared the plane with a family of three: a Mom, her 4 year old daughter, and a 3 month old son. I felt for the mom who was attempting to carry two children, a stroller, a car seat, four suitcases and a hoard of baby elephants onto the plane in a timely fashion. Several people pitched in to lighten the load a bit and finally we were all settled and ready to take off. The children were adorable and no one heard a peep from them the whole flight. I totally forgot about this little threesome until my return flight to NY Cizzle, when I saw them approaching the gate to board on my plane again. I had to hand it to mom at this point, she was rocking it with all of the luggage and two small children again. Fearless.
However, the 4 year old had decided she no longer was on board with this weekend trip idea and she began voicing her opinion before we even boarded the plane. Once on the plane she flat out refused to buckle her seatbelt and the flight attendant did her best for about 15 minutes until finally it was accomplished. Intermittent wailing and crying ensued for the next 45 minutes or so, until we finally left the ground and I believed the little one to be asleep.
The entire flight we didn't hear a peep out of her and just as we were "beginning our final descent" the plane made some very sharp, very scary tips and turns. Mom had held out long enough when finally she yelled out, "Jes**!" In turn waking up the 4 year old who started singing at the top of her lungs, "OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM, E-I-E-I-O! AND ON HIS FARM HE HAD A DUCK, E-I-E-I-O! WITH A QUACK...." (You get the idea.) She continued her reprisal of the Farmer MacDonald until we'd touched down, through about 4 or 5 different domestic farm animal verses. Everyone around me was laughing to themselves at this point. Then the flight attendant got back on her little speaker thing and made the "Welcome to New York, its 6:15 local time" spiel and after she signed off, she got back on the speaker to say, "E-I-E-I-O." I peed a little.
I also possibly broke my foot on Saturday while attempting to take down the tailgating tent. See, logistically, 4 metal tent poles collected into a group totaling approximately 50 lbs should cause intense pain and death upon one's foot, should said group land squarely on one of the feet falling unobstructed from a height of 6-7 feet in the air* (see attached photo). Breaky footy no funny.
Caution: corny story ahead.
On my outbound flight to D-Troit Rock City, I shared the plane with a family of three: a Mom, her 4 year old daughter, and a 3 month old son. I felt for the mom who was attempting to carry two children, a stroller, a car seat, four suitcases and a hoard of baby elephants onto the plane in a timely fashion. Several people pitched in to lighten the load a bit and finally we were all settled and ready to take off. The children were adorable and no one heard a peep from them the whole flight. I totally forgot about this little threesome until my return flight to NY Cizzle, when I saw them approaching the gate to board on my plane again. I had to hand it to mom at this point, she was rocking it with all of the luggage and two small children again. Fearless.
However, the 4 year old had decided she no longer was on board with this weekend trip idea and she began voicing her opinion before we even boarded the plane. Once on the plane she flat out refused to buckle her seatbelt and the flight attendant did her best for about 15 minutes until finally it was accomplished. Intermittent wailing and crying ensued for the next 45 minutes or so, until we finally left the ground and I believed the little one to be asleep.
The entire flight we didn't hear a peep out of her and just as we were "beginning our final descent" the plane made some very sharp, very scary tips and turns. Mom had held out long enough when finally she yelled out, "Jes**!" In turn waking up the 4 year old who started singing at the top of her lungs, "OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM, E-I-E-I-O! AND ON HIS FARM HE HAD A DUCK, E-I-E-I-O! WITH A QUACK...." (You get the idea.) She continued her reprisal of the Farmer MacDonald until we'd touched down, through about 4 or 5 different domestic farm animal verses. Everyone around me was laughing to themselves at this point. Then the flight attendant got back on her little speaker thing and made the "Welcome to New York, its 6:15 local time" spiel and after she signed off, she got back on the speaker to say, "E-I-E-I-O." I peed a little.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Snifffff, Ah That's Much Better
So those 2 people who regularly read this site may notice that I've made a few changes to my template today. What do you think of the new design? I was feeling a little verklempt with my old choices and the glory of blogspot is you can change them any old time you want. Glory! Can I get an Amen? Not both of you at once, it gets loud in here. Thank you.
Now that winter has again returned to the Northeast, my office is now registering a temperature somewhere between "Lava" and "Broiler Room". Which doesn't do a whole lot for my attitude problem. There's a meeting this morning?! You mean now?! Like, you want me to actually walk down the hall for it?! You must be out of your mind, man!
Working on that one.
Oh, did I tell you we saw the Black Crowes in concert last week? It was a pretty amazing show actually. I really enjoy on a cosmic level the song Soul Singing.
Now that winter has again returned to the Northeast, my office is now registering a temperature somewhere between "Lava" and "Broiler Room". Which doesn't do a whole lot for my attitude problem. There's a meeting this morning?! You mean now?! Like, you want me to actually walk down the hall for it?! You must be out of your mind, man!
Working on that one.
Oh, did I tell you we saw the Black Crowes in concert last week? It was a pretty amazing show actually. I really enjoy on a cosmic level the song Soul Singing.
Home bound
Tired of tired of running town to town
Tired of my heart
turned upside down
Now my lifes a smile not a frown
The sound
The incredible thing about it live is the new voice the song takes on. Maybe its that Chris Robinson is in a different place in his life right now. Or that the band altogether has moved into a new phase of their creative genius. Whatever it was, it was thrilling to watch and hear. Glad we made the trip up to BFE 175th Street to see it.
Oh crap, the meeting.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Hollywood's Not the Only One with Problems
Him: Uh, there's no more orange juice.
Me: Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. The Orange Juice Fairy quit last week.
Him: ........
Me: Yep, in case you were wondering, so did the Milk Fairy, the Cereal Fairy, the Dry Cleaning Fairy, the Clothes Picking Up Fairy, and the Bathroom Fairy actually told me to tell you to suck it. Whatever that means, she told me you'd understand.
Me: Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. The Orange Juice Fairy quit last week.
Him: ........
Me: Yep, in case you were wondering, so did the Milk Fairy, the Cereal Fairy, the Dry Cleaning Fairy, the Clothes Picking Up Fairy, and the Bathroom Fairy actually told me to tell you to suck it. Whatever that means, she told me you'd understand.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Tis the Season to be Merry
Alright, let it be noted: It is November 12th and I am thoroughly and appallingly grossed out of my mind by Holiday Gift Buying Advertising. I mean, come on.
Best Buy, you can suck it. Your customer service is a j.o.k.e. I've seen roadkill more helpful in solving problems than your staff. Your prices are higher than my 6th grade math teacher's pants. And nobody buys people gifts from Best Buy, they buy them gift cards, so spare me the blue wrapping paper/yellow ribboned boxes on every God-fer-loving commercial. Puke.
LL Bean, what's the story? Commercials were never your thing. Stick to catalogs and improving your website. You're better than that. You shouldn't lower your standards because all the other overpriced outdoor clothing lines are. Let's keep it real. Now go play with your Black Labs and Golden Retrievers, they need the exercise.
K mart, honey, no one is buying what you're selling on TV these days. The last time Martha was in a K mart was when they took a prison field trip and she was only going in to get a Mr. Slushie.
Macy's, don't even get me started. You're the worst of the bunch. You've robbed us of our childhoods and a Thanksgiving Day Parade void of advertising since the beginning of time. You practically killed Santa. I can't even say your name anymore without my husband crawling into the fetal position and crying like a baby.
Am I right or am I right? Who else is vomiting consumerism that is being shoved down our throats at the expense of good-hearted holiday celebrating? I just don't know what to expect of entertainment television any more. {sigh}
Best Buy, you can suck it. Your customer service is a j.o.k.e. I've seen roadkill more helpful in solving problems than your staff. Your prices are higher than my 6th grade math teacher's pants. And nobody buys people gifts from Best Buy, they buy them gift cards, so spare me the blue wrapping paper/yellow ribboned boxes on every God-fer-loving commercial. Puke.
LL Bean, what's the story? Commercials were never your thing. Stick to catalogs and improving your website. You're better than that. You shouldn't lower your standards because all the other overpriced outdoor clothing lines are. Let's keep it real. Now go play with your Black Labs and Golden Retrievers, they need the exercise.
K mart, honey, no one is buying what you're selling on TV these days. The last time Martha was in a K mart was when they took a prison field trip and she was only going in to get a Mr. Slushie.
Macy's, don't even get me started. You're the worst of the bunch. You've robbed us of our childhoods and a Thanksgiving Day Parade void of advertising since the beginning of time. You practically killed Santa. I can't even say your name anymore without my husband crawling into the fetal position and crying like a baby.
Am I right or am I right? Who else is vomiting consumerism that is being shoved down our throats at the expense of good-hearted holiday celebrating? I just don't know what to expect of entertainment television any more. {sigh}
Friday, November 2, 2007
We All Need A Little More Trudi
Hey, what did you do today Internet? Really? No! Want to know what I did? Yes? Okay, I'll tell you. I went to a live taping of Regis and Kelly at ABC studios this morning. Sweet, right? Well, grab your hot cocoa and gingersnaps and let me tell you all about it.
Marisa Tomei, David Ortiz, and Jennifer Esposito were the guests and they were all pretty nice, somewhat humorous. I just want to squeeze David Ortiz, he looks like he needs it. Also Jennifer talks way too much with her hands - like hey! look at my hands! they're flying around! If I were in a table tennis match where we couldn't use paddles, I would totally want her on my team. Kelly Ripa is T.I.N.Y. I can't stress this enough, people. I think I could sneeze her to Nova Scotia. During one intermission, someone asked her where she got her shirt and she is so cute, she said, "Actually I got it for free!". Usually, I'm really irritated when people don't listen well enough to questions to answer them correctly, but that was more interesting to me than where she got it because I'm continually amazed at how rich and famous people get stuff for free all the time, when they're really the only people who have the money to buy expensive stuff. ? Riddle me that, oh master of the interverse*.
Best part of the show: Baby Bash (I know, don't ask me) raps their new song at the end of the show, and the cutest grandma you've ever seen gets her groove on in the front row like she's been waiting decades for this song to be created thereby enabling her to express herself through dance. And the hosts notice her and call her out onto the stage to dance with them and Baby Bash (I know, see above), upon which time the grandma - Trudi - totally works the entire stage with her dance moves. I was peeing my pants off - not kidding. They played another song just so she would keep dancing. It totally made my weekend. And even though I Tivo'd the episode in case I got on camera and wanted to see how much weight the camera actually put on me, I'm totally going to replay the episode to bring Trudi to life again instead.
PS. I did get on camera for 0.7 seconds during the sign-off portion of the credits. ;) Promise, ask my dad, he Tivo'd it too.
*'Member? I'm allowed to make up words.
Marisa Tomei, David Ortiz, and Jennifer Esposito were the guests and they were all pretty nice, somewhat humorous. I just want to squeeze David Ortiz, he looks like he needs it. Also Jennifer talks way too much with her hands - like hey! look at my hands! they're flying around! If I were in a table tennis match where we couldn't use paddles, I would totally want her on my team. Kelly Ripa is T.I.N.Y. I can't stress this enough, people. I think I could sneeze her to Nova Scotia. During one intermission, someone asked her where she got her shirt and she is so cute, she said, "Actually I got it for free!". Usually, I'm really irritated when people don't listen well enough to questions to answer them correctly, but that was more interesting to me than where she got it because I'm continually amazed at how rich and famous people get stuff for free all the time, when they're really the only people who have the money to buy expensive stuff. ? Riddle me that, oh master of the interverse*.
Best part of the show: Baby Bash (I know, don't ask me) raps their new song at the end of the show, and the cutest grandma you've ever seen gets her groove on in the front row like she's been waiting decades for this song to be created thereby enabling her to express herself through dance. And the hosts notice her and call her out onto the stage to dance with them and Baby Bash (I know, see above), upon which time the grandma - Trudi - totally works the entire stage with her dance moves. I was peeing my pants off - not kidding. They played another song just so she would keep dancing. It totally made my weekend. And even though I Tivo'd the episode in case I got on camera and wanted to see how much weight the camera actually put on me, I'm totally going to replay the episode to bring Trudi to life again instead.
PS. I did get on camera for 0.7 seconds during the sign-off portion of the credits. ;) Promise, ask my dad, he Tivo'd it too.
*'Member? I'm allowed to make up words.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Notice of Toll Violation - First Offense
After recieving what was absolutely not a Happy Birthday card in the mail from the Port Authority of NY and NJ, I did receive a happy little letter explaining that since I allegedly "passed through a Port Authority toll lane without payment of the applicable toll", I owed the state of New York 31 bucks. I decided to give the friendly customer service lady a call.
Me: Hi, I received a ticket for violating the EZ Pass lane and I don't own a car.
CSR Lady: Can you give me the ticket number?
Me: Sure! Blah-blah-blah.
CSR Lady: (tap, tap, tap, tap) Hmmmmmmm. Hm. (tap, tap, tap) Hmmmm. And your license plate number is Blah-ble-blay-blahblah?
Me: ....... (cricket) ......... No..... I don't own a car.
CSR Lady: Hmmm. (tap-t-t-t-tap-tap-tap!!) Hold on one second. (tap!, tap!, tap!) Hm. Yes, I'm going to have to turn this over to the DMV.
Me: Oh, riiiight. You certainly do.
Me: Hi, I received a ticket for violating the EZ Pass lane and I don't own a car.
CSR Lady: Can you give me the ticket number?
Me: Sure! Blah-blah-blah.
CSR Lady: (tap, tap, tap, tap) Hmmmmmmm. Hm. (tap, tap, tap) Hmmmm. And your license plate number is Blah-ble-blay-blahblah?
Me: ....... (cricket) ......... No..... I don't own a car.
CSR Lady: Hmmm. (tap-t-t-t-tap-tap-tap!!) Hold on one second. (tap!, tap!, tap!) Hm. Yes, I'm going to have to turn this over to the DMV.
Me: Oh, riiiight. You certainly do.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Roaches de Cock
Since accusations are on the fly that I have exaggerated our infestation problem, let me clear the air. Eh-hem. OUR APARTMENT IS OVERRUN WITH GIANT, FLESH-EATING, FLYING, COCKROACHES. Never one to over-dramatize, I have toned this last statement down to highlight it's truth and accuracy. Let it be known that the author of the accusations has never once had to assassinate the damn things himself, oh no, it's all me Friends. All me.
Now, I know some of you mean well when you spout off cute little stories about the ONE time you saw a cockroach and killed it swiftly to be on your merry little urban way, and I appreciate that your experience was so painless. However, yours and my experience are very different. Very. I have killed oh, about 8 cockroaches in the 21 months of living in our apartment. All 8 were giant, about this -------------------------------------------- long. (100% not extrapolated.) To increase their specialness, several of them have flown at me at the exact moment I was trying to overpower them. Fantastic!
Others of you have suggested putting traps about the place. Hoho, he, hahaha. You naive, sad little children. I remember when I too had rainbows in my eyes and unicorns in my dreams... Let me paint the picture a tad bit more: they have been found in every room of the apartment, in different times of the year/day/atmospheric pressure, oblivious to the traps and sprays and gels and hand grenades that I have strategically fortified the house with. We do take the trash out every night, I have stored all of our cabinet foods in airtight containers, I try to clean over, under, and between every piece of furniture at least once a week, sometimes more.
Twice last year I called up Sally-Overreactor-Johnson (aka the landlady) to inquire about an exterminator and twice he came to spray. That's it. Just twice. Sally thought, "Surely we got every single itty bitty cockroach in the whole damn building in two applications! Yay us! High five." No high five, Sally, no high five at all.
I've thrown in the towel with the Roaches de Cock. They must really, really like that apartment. Well, I don't want to blight their happiness any longer. I'll just finish out my time in New York, and leave them in peace. Besides, there's no recourse. There's no hope. As my sister Gina said, "You can't kill them all, they survived the Holocaust!" Thanks Gin, I think you meant the nuclear bomb. Nice try, though.
Sigh, there's not even humor left in our apartment, the cockroaches snuffed it all out. It's a sad day in the nut house. Sad, sad, sad.
Maybe I'll have ice cream for dinner.
Now, I know some of you mean well when you spout off cute little stories about the ONE time you saw a cockroach and killed it swiftly to be on your merry little urban way, and I appreciate that your experience was so painless. However, yours and my experience are very different. Very. I have killed oh, about 8 cockroaches in the 21 months of living in our apartment. All 8 were giant, about this -------------------------------------------- long. (100% not extrapolated.) To increase their specialness, several of them have flown at me at the exact moment I was trying to overpower them. Fantastic!
Others of you have suggested putting traps about the place. Hoho, he, hahaha. You naive, sad little children. I remember when I too had rainbows in my eyes and unicorns in my dreams... Let me paint the picture a tad bit more: they have been found in every room of the apartment, in different times of the year/day/atmospheric pressure, oblivious to the traps and sprays and gels and hand grenades that I have strategically fortified the house with. We do take the trash out every night, I have stored all of our cabinet foods in airtight containers, I try to clean over, under, and between every piece of furniture at least once a week, sometimes more.
Twice last year I called up Sally-Overreactor-Johnson (aka the landlady) to inquire about an exterminator and twice he came to spray. That's it. Just twice. Sally thought, "Surely we got every single itty bitty cockroach in the whole damn building in two applications! Yay us! High five." No high five, Sally, no high five at all.
I've thrown in the towel with the Roaches de Cock. They must really, really like that apartment. Well, I don't want to blight their happiness any longer. I'll just finish out my time in New York, and leave them in peace. Besides, there's no recourse. There's no hope. As my sister Gina said, "You can't kill them all, they survived the Holocaust!" Thanks Gin, I think you meant the nuclear bomb. Nice try, though.
Sigh, there's not even humor left in our apartment, the cockroaches snuffed it all out. It's a sad day in the nut house. Sad, sad, sad.
Maybe I'll have ice cream for dinner.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Warning: Hostile Post Ahead...
That's it. Enough. I can't take it any longer. I have to get this off my chest or I'm going to spontaneously combust.
To all of the inconsiderate pricks who hate dogs in my neighborhood:
I try to CURB MY DOG! but he doesn't always make it there, okay?! So get off it with your little xeroxed fliers taped all over your stupid little front fence and your stupid tree in front of your stupid little apartment. I have a geographical news flash for you, you live in NEW YORK CITY. If you've decided that you don't like people or dogs or people who own dogs, I've got the perfect moving company for you, dial: 1-800-movethef#@$out. They're very handy at maneuvering your stupid furniture down your stupid stairs. And. Don't sit on your steps every day and wait for someone with a dog to come within eyesight so you can start screaming incoherently that they have to CURB THEIR DOG. Because if I see you do that one more time, I'm going to call the ambulance right before I beat the living shit out of you. Then, I'm going to take my dog right up your front steps and have him pee his little heart out right on your front porch. Then I'm going to pee my little heart out all the way down your front steps, so there.
Oh, and to the nice little lady smoking her cig'y on her bottom step? Yeah, I'm pretty sure smelling a drop of urine on the sidewalk is more dangerous than those cancer sticks you're snorting into your lungs. Yep, you totally got me on that one.
{Deep breath}
People, it's urine. And, it's on the sidewalk. Near the curb. It washes off when it rains. Adjust your meds. You'll be fine.
Sincerely,
The Bitch with the dog.
To all of the inconsiderate pricks who hate dogs in my neighborhood:
I try to CURB MY DOG! but he doesn't always make it there, okay?! So get off it with your little xeroxed fliers taped all over your stupid little front fence and your stupid tree in front of your stupid little apartment. I have a geographical news flash for you, you live in NEW YORK CITY. If you've decided that you don't like people or dogs or people who own dogs, I've got the perfect moving company for you, dial: 1-800-movethef#@$out. They're very handy at maneuvering your stupid furniture down your stupid stairs. And. Don't sit on your steps every day and wait for someone with a dog to come within eyesight so you can start screaming incoherently that they have to CURB THEIR DOG. Because if I see you do that one more time, I'm going to call the ambulance right before I beat the living shit out of you. Then, I'm going to take my dog right up your front steps and have him pee his little heart out right on your front porch. Then I'm going to pee my little heart out all the way down your front steps, so there.
Oh, and to the nice little lady smoking her cig'y on her bottom step? Yeah, I'm pretty sure smelling a drop of urine on the sidewalk is more dangerous than those cancer sticks you're snorting into your lungs. Yep, you totally got me on that one.
{Deep breath}
People, it's urine. And, it's on the sidewalk. Near the curb. It washes off when it rains. Adjust your meds. You'll be fine.
Sincerely,
The Bitch with the dog.
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