When Good Dogs Go Bad

Last month's GQ had an interesting article written by John Sullivan called "Violence of the Lambs." His basic premise is that essentially, animals are revolting against and attacking humans in ways previously unseen in history. This phenomenon is actually being studied by a group of scientists, some of whom contend that it is as though a Cosmic Memo has been sent to the entire animal kingdom, and that Memo reads: "Do your part to ensure the extinction of the human race!"

The article goes into detail of bizarre attacks against humans by every sort of animal imaginable (including those previously believed to be harmless to mankind). But one particular paragraph made me spit out my coffee in laughter:

"In America... at least four people have been shot by their dogs in the past two years. One incident involved a stun gun... In another incident, in Memphis, a dog shot its owner in the back while the man was arguing with his girlfriend..."

Are you fucking kidding me? Dogs shooting people?? I thought maybe this was a joke, but an internet news search uncovered evidence to verify this.

And I know this is wrong, but why is it that I find myself feeling bad for the dogs in this situation, and not the people who were shot?

PS - this photo has nothing to do with this entry, but I must point out that it came up when I did an image search for "dogs with guns." I bet these poor cowgirls would be pissed if they only knew.

People Are Stupid 2008 (Pt. II)

So yesterday I'm at the same Walgreens as last time, and an even stupider thing happens.

I'm standing in line waiting for the next available cashier and this guy walks right past me to stand behind a woman who has just paid for her stuff and is about to leave. WTF?

For those of you not familiar with the typical layout of a Walgreens checkout area (they're all the same), trust me when I say that there's no way this person couldn't recognize that I'm standing in line waiting for the next cashier. You have to be either 1) a moron, or 2) an asshole not to see it. Either way, it is behaviour that I cannot fucking stand in other people. That disrespectful notion that someone else's time is fundamentally more important than someone else's. Christ, I hate that shit.

I say "excuse me, but there's a line" and he's all apologetic and then comes to stand next to me. When the woman is done and the cashier says "next in line" the idiot turns to me and says, "Go ahead."

Like he's doing me a favor by letting me proceed.

Really? I can go ahead now? You're giving me permission to go? Geez thanks - you're such a nice guy. Fuck off, douchebag.

Swear to God, someday that Walgreens is going to burn down to the ground, if you know what I'm saying.

The Liar's Club

[this is what happens when you give Classy the camera]

Last Thursday, the Liar's Club got together under the guise of planning our upcoming Pony Blegger*. But naturally, conversation deviated to pretty much everything else. You can read the highlights here.

And yes, please do read the highlights. The numbers over at the LC have been down and we need to get them back up. Comment early and often.

* Yo, a "Blegger" is a kegger for bloggers, shawties.

Fuck You, Ralph Nader

And fuck anybody that votes for him.

[There, I said it.]

Someone in Germany Wants Me Dead

... OK not really, but I did freak when I first saw this while perusing my stats on Technorati this morning (shut up - I couldn't sleep last night):

I think the "Happy Days Ahead" makes it particularly funny, no?

In other news, the Oscars are this weekend. BFD. I do appreciate the Juno backlash that has begun though.

New York State of Mind (Pt. II: Electric Boogaloo)

So where to begin with the rest of the weekend?

I'll start with a lowlight: It sucks walking around Manhattan in the cold light of day with a hangover. It sucks waiting in a long line outside in the cold light of day with a hangover in Times Square trying to get tickets to Spring Awakening, only to discover 45 fucking minutes into the wait that tickets are sold out anyway. Fuerzabruta? Also sold out. And I don't even like Broadway shows; all I wanted to do is get one of those cookies with colored sprinkles on them from the Roxy, but even that proved to be impossible.

Now on to the rest. Later, we decided to drink in our hotel room like Chingy, except we're not at the Holiday Inn, we're at the fucking Hilton New York Midtown (tres classier), bitches. And instead of sipping on Hen, we're drinking 40s of Kirin beer and lots of vodka lemonades (as a professional bartender, Krista makes these lemonade elixirs that defy explanation in their goodness and level of intoxication; the trouble I've gotten into by drinking these has been well documented on this and other blogs). And instead of listening to Snoop and Luda and watching BET, we're listening to Roxette, the Jacksons (Janet and Michael) and watching the Top Design marathon on Bravo.

Because that's how we roll, shawties.

Anyway, Krista and I are sufficiently lubricated and head down to the hotel lobby bar to wait for my friend Sean to arrive. While there, we notice the older unhappily married couple next to us listening in to our conversation. I hate that shit, so we decide to stage a fight ("You never listen to a word I say!" and "You need to see the doctor about your erectile dysfunction!") and soon the unhappily marrieds have left our corner.

Soon afterwards the three of us meet up with my friend Doug at some strange loft party in the East Village. You know when you've been drinking and you're out and the edges of your peripheral vision start getting fuzzy? I've passed that point about 30 minutes earlier. The party is large and dark and loud. Doug hands each of the three of us a drink that I suspect to be gin and fruit punch. Or maybe sake and carrot juice. I'm not sure, but the point is it is disgusting. But not so disgusting that I don't finish the whole thing in a hurry because the party is ending (but we've just arrived!) and we're off to Automatic Slims in the West Village.

Automatic Slims is hot and oh-so-crowded. We think about leaving immediately, but the Supremes, then Prince, then (I think) the Eagles come on, so we stay. And drink some more.

Next is The Spotted Pig (there's a theme emerging among our choice of bars), which is fine but I spot no celebrities. Sean, Krista and I are there for at least an hour and engaged in some deep passionate discussions yet I can remember pretty much none of it.

To keep the Weekend of Pork theme alive, the evening ends with some slices of pepperoni and bacon from Ray's on 7th. Oh, and then there was the hot dog from Papaya King at the airport.

So to recap the weekend:

1) we drink (a lot);

2) we are a part of the Rhythm Nation
3) we make new friends (Jersey kids, New Zealand people, girls at the ATM);

4) we anger some people (unhappy married couple, white leather jacket girl);

5) we hate Times Square;
6) pork.

New York State of Mind (Pt. I)

My flight back to Chicago has been delayed by two hours, so I might as well write about my NYC weekend, since I've got nothing else to do. I briefly thought about liveblogging from the wireless lounge here at the JetBlue terminal, but that would be funny for about two seconds. If at all.

My friend Krista and I had planned this weekend for awhile, and the timing was great since I've been pretty stressed out from school and work. Although I've calculated that I've slept about eleven hours over the last three days so that fucking cold I've had over the last three weeks probably ain't going way any time soon. Isn't the point of a weekend getaway to relax? I'm returning more tired then I was when I left. But whateves. This is New York we're talking about here, bitches.

Krista and I arrived into JFK Friday around the same time. We haven't seen each other since May, and the first thing she says to me is that I look like I should be in Janet Jackson's "Rhythm Nation" video (I've got a black coat, jeans, black boots and a hat that she thinks looks rather military - kinda like this, I suppose - but she's of course wrong). This is just the first of several comments to be made by Krista and others about my appearance all weekend.

Because we spent most of the afternoon trying to get tickets to a show (we ended up seeing Avenue Q, which was great), I didn't make it down to visit my old co-workers. We really wanted to see Spring Awakening, and almost did, except my "connection" fell through at the last minute (not getting tickets to Spring Awakening would come back to haunt us Saturday, since most all of that afternoon too was spent hanging around Times Square, standing in line outside in the cold, and then later filling the void left by not going to a show Saturday night by drinking too many vodka lemonades and listening to Pebbles and Roxette in our hotel room. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)

After Avenue Q, we headed down to the Meatpacking District for dinner and ended up at some bar with a pig" or "barbecue" (or both) in the title. How we ended up there is rather a long story that involves us not wanting to get into another cab (it was cold), a pretty solid buzz (an alarming amount of good beer and martinis at dinner), a supposedly good chance at a celebrity sighting and a miscommunication/bad cell phone reception with a friend. It turned out to be a solid choice as we made new friends with some people from New Zealand and got tequila shots from some kids from Jersey (one of whom was highly complementary by saying he thought I "looked British" and also "about 25" -- I wanted to buy him a tequila shot). There was also the threat of me getting my ass potentially kicked by a woman in a nasty white leather coat (trust me, it was hideous) and/or her boyfriend.

When I went to scope out the jukebox, Krista got hit on by some sad middle aged business traveler from London, who was celebrating his last night in town and was desperately trying to get laid. He told me I was a lucky man to have such a lovely girlfriend, and then let it slip out that he was married (Huh? You were just hitting on my friend.). A little later, when Krista scoped out the jukebox (for some "These Dreams" by Heart and something by REO Speedwagon -- I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out of the bar), he came back to our corner and then told me that Krista was lucky to have such a lovely boyfriend. I'm thinking: Are you that desperate to get laid that you're now hitting on me? Sadcakes.

The evening ended with us closing the bar and me later making friends with two women at a bank of ATMs in Times Square (because frankly, I can't get enough of Times Square*) around 5:15 in the morning. One of them had just broken up with her boyfriend, and as she's talking to her friend about it, I blurt out "Men are bastards" and then they're all "I know, right?" and next thing we're just talking and hanging out for about 25 minutes in this bank lobby and one of them is inviting me to hang out with her at the Hudson Hotel for Saturday night (I tell her I love the Hudson and dude, I'll totally be there!) and they're both giving me their digits. And yeah, I totally forgot to call them Saturday (not that it was likely going to happen anyway) which is too bad because they were pretty cool.

OK, enough for now. Time to grab some dinner at the Papaya King and start praying that I won’t be stuck here all evening.

* I'm of course being sarcastic.

Quiz

In the last two weeks have you:

1. Not eaten a vegetable, or anything else of any significant nutritional value?
2. Been frustrated that you have not been able to shake off the same fucking persistent cold you’ve had for the past three weeks?
3. Broke out into laughter in public for no apparent reason, kinda like a crazy person?
4. Broke down into tears in public for no apparent reason, kinda definitely like a crazy person?
5. Walked 100 meters out of your way to take an escalator, just to avoid walking the flight of stairs right in front of you?
6. Failed two Chemistry quizzes? (Granted, only worth about 1% of your grade, but still…
7. Honestly thought – even just for a few seconds - that perhaps the Virgin Mary was speaking to you through your car radio?
8. Gone to bed on a Saturday “night” at 5:45 in the afternoon (that’s right – afternoon – not morning), and slept all the way through until the next morning at 9am (that’s 15 hours for those counting)?
9. Been both sad and relieved that you don’t have tickets to Friday’s Spice Girls show?
   

If you answered “Fuck Yeah” to ALL the above questions, then Congratulations – you’re probably me!

Be sure to throw yourself from a 7th story window at your earliest convenience.

john.he.is (Or: Super DUPER Tuesday)

It isn't my intention to get political two entries in a row, but my friend Kathy sent to me this new viral video homage to John McCain - the Republican nominee for President in 2008 - and it is pretty funny.

And by "funny" I of course mean in that "scary" and "bat-shit crazy" kind of way.

After last week's Obama posting, I think it is only fair that I post McCain's. I don't want to be accused of not giving both sides equal access.

Super Tuesday

Happy Super Tuesday everone.

So Will.I.Am from Black Eyed Peas has put out a video in support of Barack Obama, which is getting a lot of play.

On the one hand, I applaud the video and what he's (sorry, I refuse to type "Will.I.Am" one more time) doing to use his celebrity to raise awareness and endorse a candidate. And the video itself does a good job of highlighting some of the words from Barack's speech, which can be inspiring.

On the other hand, this is kinda lame, isn't it? If you're going to make a video filled with celebrities, shouldn't it have, well, better celebrities? I mean, c'mon -- the chick from Grey's Anatomy? That kid who was in that movie a few years ago with Uma Thurman and Meryl Streep? This is Barack Obama we're talking about; was nobody else available? At the very least, couldn't he have recruited the rest of the Black Eyed Peas?

And who is the video targeted towards? Young people? Do young people even know who Herbie Hancock is? Has anyone under the age of 30 ever listened to a John Legend song? (Although kudos for digging Kareem Abdul Jabar from obscurity.)

Plus, there isn't a product out there that Will.I.Am won't endorse. In the last three years, he's shilled for Apple, the Gap, Verizon, Honda, XM Satellite Radio and MSN. Seriously. I think his reputation as a celebrity with discerning good taste is starting to wear thin.

Yeah, I'm a dick.