Friday, April 12, 2013

Maybe They Were Filled With Cocaine

People are fucking weird.

I was at work today - working at yoga, checking people in and pretending I am SUPER excited to get them water and towels and the occasional rental mat. I had just checked in a class, and while instruction is going on I usually have the place to myself. Get some work done, answer some emails, realize I've been staring at Facebook for far too long and all that great stuff.

What I am saying is it is nice to have the place to myself to get back to square one.

So I'm there, enjoying my solitude, and two randoms walk in.

Now, I am used to random walk ins, but they are usually coming in to ask about the yoga. I give my two cents about how awesome the yoga is, the intro special price and that if you need anything I will be MORE than happy to rent you a towel or a mat and sell you water - coconut or regular.

However, these were not my usual clientele. The first guy through the door had on an odd pair of khaki pants, a poorly chosen plaid/checkered shirt with a HORRIBLE bow tie and this weird, overly product-ed, limp, curly hair. And he was a white guy.

Second guy was an Indian (from India) fellow, dressed in a gray (or grey, if you're in Britain) v-neck sweater and, again, khakis. He was a little more put together than gentleman #1.

The next thing I notice about this pair is gentleman #1 seems to have a little trouble walking. Now, I don't exactly mean that he was drunk, but he could have been. But he also could have had a disability.

Gentleman #2 was walking behind him, in an almost body guard-esque capacity.

Gentleman #1 to me, "Hi, how are you today?"

Please note it was in a cheesy, sleazy, car salesman voice.

Me, "I'm well, how are you?"

Him, "I'm blessed, I'm blessed. Look what I've got here."

He holds out a package with one of those weird looking bubble guns in it.

He held it out with the intention of me taking it. And I know why that fucker did it that way. If I had taken that package, he would have had an excuse to stay longer.

I'm from New York, motherfucker. People try to hand me shit all the time, and I am the master of the pivot, avoid, continue with my day move.

So he holds it out and I ignore whats in his hand until he is forced to place it on the counter in front of me.

In his other hand, he has another one of these devices, just out of the package.  He proceeds to demonstrate this toy in MY PLACE OF WORK by shooting the bubbles all over.

He tells me he just got these toys from the store for $10 each, but he'll sell them to me for $7 each.

I'm working in a fucking yoga studio.

What the hell do I need elaborate bubble toys for?

Is this a preschool?

Another toy store?

A play ground?

A kinky sex shop?

It is NONE of these things.

I give him my biggest, warmest, fuck you smile and tell him he needs to leave.

He says ok, and heads out.

Gentleman #2 never says a word, and quickly scurries out after Gent #1.

I still cannot figure out what G#2 was doing with the quirky hipster sleaze ball, or G#1.

Not to mention that this strange duo must have been walking from store to store trying to move these toys.

All I know is when they left, I had no idea what had just happened.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

My Cats Are Jerks Too

I'd like to talk about dogs for a moment.

No, not ugly females you sexist pig. But I'll probably end up talking about that at some point, just hang on.

Canines. Man's best friend. Purse rats.

So often you hear people talk about their dogs - My dog is so great, he loves everyone, she saved my son from drowning, my cancer would never have been detected if not for my dog.  Everyone's got that perfect dog.

Not me.

My dog's name is Murphy, but he has other names. His Orc name is Pig Snort after the nasty growling/snorting noise he makes when he plays and his Scottish name is Grumbles MacAngryFur, after his angry bark and the way his hackles look when his hair stands on end.

He hates strangers. When we have people come visit the house, we always have to tell them to just ignore him until he calms down, don't look him directly in the eyes at first cause he'll take it as a challenge to his alpha-ness and that he is a nibbler, but don't freak out, its just the way he communicates.

You canNOT wake him up. I mean, seriously, if you walk into the bedroom and he's sleeping on the bed and he looks at you out of the corner of his eye DO. NOT. TOUCH. HIM. He will fuck your shit UP. I don't know if it's because he's scared or just a huge grump, but he will make sure you know how unhappy he is about being touched. For example, he is sleeping behind me on my chair right now and I know that if I pet him or move too much, he will let me know that I am irritating him and must quickly stop.

None of the "experts" advice works on him. My James play wrestles with him and we read in numerous places that his play biting could be caused by this. So, for a day in a half we played with him very politely. Lots of, Go get this! Bring it back! Good boy! Sit! Good boy! Give me that toy! Good boy! Repeat. After a day in a half I have never seen a dog more miserable and nasty. Finally I told James to just go ahead and fight with him again. He was the sweetest, nicest boy after that.

He chases the cats (on occasion), steals food (with sometimes epic, Mission Impossible-like style), howls at sirens in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep, he scratches at the drywall and pilfers shoes.

But he has the most distinct personality of any dog I have ever met. He is loyal and protective (sometimes overly so, but whatever) and has an adorable fear of heights. When we come home we lay on the floor and he celebrates us returning by rubbing his whole body over our faces and heads while wagging his whole body. Instead of lifting his leg to pee, he squats like a girl and because he has a penis he has a tendency to pee on his front feet. When he gets to run at the dog park, he runs flat out as fast as he can and you can see the pure joy and insanity in his adorable muppet face. He has a massive under bite and does a perfect upward and downward dog when he stretches when he wakes up. He sits like an old man and has the best dog smile.

So, yeah, he may not be the most ideal dog for the average American family with 2.5 kids, the minivan and the crippling regrets - but I knew from the minute I saw him that he was the perfect dog for my strange family.

Now excuse me, I need to go eat dinner and guard it with my life.