Wednesday, September 15, 2010


Dogs.  I don't care for them.  You know who I care less for?  Dog owners.

On Sunday, a dog was shot at the festival I was working at.  Piecing together stories, including some from eye witnesses, a foster parent of an abused pit bull was walking the dog down the street...WITHOUT A LEASH.  Huge crowd, dogs everywhere, children.  And you want to bring your abused pit in here without a muzzle, much less a leash?  It attacked a smaller dog.  It may or may not have turned on the cop.  The dog is dead now, and it's the foster owners fault.

On a lighter note.  I don't even have grass in front of my apartment to be protective of.  But I walk past grassy lawns with nice signs saying, "No pets".  I.e., don't let your pet defecate and urinate on our grass.  At least twice a week I see someone letting their dog do their business within 3 feet of these signs.  And often, it's a tenant of the apartment building!  I realize there are not so many places to toilet your dog in the city.  So how 'bout you don't get a dog?  How 'bout you get a fish, a cat, a lizard, a bird.  All manor of pets that are suitable for a concrete jungle.  Or how 'bout you do a good self examination before getting this animal.  Will you take the time to walk it the blocks and blocks needed to A) find a suitable toileting place. and B) give it the necessary exercise it needs?  It's an animal!

With that said, here's a neat dog park:

Pooch Park

and a silly cat town

Friday, September 10, 2010

Don't lock yourself out on Rosh Hashanah

I have nothing to say. :(

My job is boring. But easy.

My apartment is falling apart. But get to the metro.

Here's a funny story:

I locked myself out of my apartment. There is a separate lock on my bedroom...well there was. I locked my keys in my bedroom. From work, I emailed the landlord...a landlord. He gave me the number of another landlord who tried to jimmy the lock with no success. I called a locksmith. I made an appointment for 6pm.

I left work to stop by my roommates work to get a key to the front door. En route I received a phone call from the locksmith, CANCELLING. Why? Because it was a Jewish holiday. And in her words, "98% of locksmiths are jewish". Apparently she was unaware of this when I called her at 3pm.

So I called another company...which turned out to be a front for the first company. So I tried another one. He said they didn't do houses, so gave me another number. I asked if this person was Jewish. He said, "No, he's black". I'm sure there are black Jews. In fact, I think this guy was one. Because I called 3 times, and left 3 messages, and got no response.

So I go home, and try to open the door with my grocery card. No workie. I'm prepared now to sleep in the hallway, but I go downstairs to ask my neighbors if they know any locksmiths.

SIDEBAR: my neighbor is a barber shop called Spott's. "Spott" is actually Lloyd, and Lloyd has two wonky eyes. He is the nicest guy on the planet, but I'm not sure I trust his hair cutting skills. There is another guy that works there who always yells, "Hey neighbor!!" when I come home. They are outside 75% of the time.

So they are outside, and they say they don't know anybody and just then a guy walks out from another house and they yell, "Salmon! You know a locksmith?!" "Salmon" walks over and says no, but Lloyd's not gonna let him go that easy. Lloyd convinces him to try to get it open for me. So after trying to climb the back wall, and beating and prying, my door is now open...and there is a huge hole in my door jam...

And "Salmon"'s name is actually Sammer. We also cleared that up.