Yeah, so I’m…

It is a motherfucker.

That is all.

At around 2am this morning I awoke to what sounded like someone knocking at my door. I’d been asleep for nearly an hour and my wits were whatever the opposite of “about me” is. “Who the fuck would be knocking on my door at 2 in the morning?” I thought. “That can’t be what that is.” I went back to sleep.

At around 8:15 this morning I woke up (I’m working 2-10pm today.) I set about preparing to do what I do first every morning: take the puppy out. I pocketed a dog treat, a puppy poo bag, my wallet, and reached for my keys which ended up not being where they usually are. I began looking elsewhere. The coffee table, desk, kitchen counter, bathroom (don’t look at me like that - you’d be surprised), and bed yielded nothing. I scratched my head and retraced my steps. “When’s the last time I had them? I took Striker for a walk…”

And then it hit me. Those two paragraphs up there? Totally related.

I opened the front door and looked at the lock. No keys. On my door was a post-it note from an “officer” (security?) which said that I’d left them in the door and that they were now at the front desk.

Today I am thankful for honesty and good samaritans.

Historically speaking I’m a fairly quick and accurate judge of character. Usually the situations in which I have to judge end up affecting only me, such as where I determine whether I want to socialize with someone based on a thing or two that they’ve said or done. Sometimes I end up judging someone’s character for someone else. I know that I can be wrong because I have been wrong, but far more often than not I find that I’m on the money and I feel secure in the decision that I’ve made.

Every now and again, rare as it may be, I will accurately judge someone but either I hope at the time that I’m wrong or I say “fuck it” and go forward socially. It’s times like these that it sucks to be right because you know all along that you are, and when the reasons that you’re right come to the fore you feel really dumb and you only have yourself to blame. So what do you do? You resolve to follow your hunches more often.

But not before you deal with the situation.

Conversation had on Saturday:

I-6sis: “What are you doing for mom on Mother’s Day?”
I-66: “We’re taking her to The Oval Room for brunch.”
I-6sis: “Okay good. I’m going to pay for it.”
I-66: [pause] “What?”
I-6sis: “I’ll call down there and take care of it.”
I-66: “Uh… Alright. Thanks.”

(”Take care of it” in this case means pay for it and arrange a special tasting menu for us.)

Yesterday I took Striker to meet Chick Magnet. The unspoken logic was “yellow labrador retriever and golden retriever? they’re bound to like eachother!” Uh… not exactly. You see, Chick Magnet is a full-grown, adult, human-friendly dog. Striker is a 3-month old, whippersnapper of an anyone-friendly dog. Ruh roh.

Striker quickly set about the task of running around and throwing himself at Chick Magnet’s face. Chick Magnet was growlingly not interested. She didn’t even care when Striker played with her toys. Even with her obvious displeasure, her visual pleas for help went unanswered…

“Please, I-66, get this puppy out of my face.”

Still, Striker was undaunted. He’d sneak up on Chick Magnet from behind while she was laying down, or jump on her from the side while she was sitting. He threw a tennis ball at her and hit her in the leg. He even tried to hump her. Chick Magnet? Not amused.

“Seriously, dude. Back up off me.”

I think it’s safe to assume that Striker has not found a new play partner.

The Facebook group has been created, the date has been set, and though the venue has not yet been decided I have a pretty good idea of the area in which it will be. And now the debate officially begins:

I-66’s 10 Year High School Reunion. Yay or nay?

I’ve said a little about this here and there, but I have yet to really lay it out there. I mean the pros and the cons. What better way to decide something than on this here blog?

Pro: I went to high school locally, which means I won’t have to hop on a plane or a Amtrak train to get there.

Con: In the grand scheme of things, 10 years ain’t all that long a time. I don’t think many of us have changed all that much since we graduated…

Con: …and I know this because of MySpace and The MyFace, which in and of itself can be a mini-reunion once people start finding eachother.

Pro: There are people with whom I was friendly back then that I’ve lost touch with over the years, and it could be kinda nice to reconnect…

Con: …though largely I’ve kept in touch with the people that have been most important. I mean, take the guys like Rif, House, Deep Cover, and The Captain that get written about here… we graduated together, and I’ve known them since kindergarten, 6th grade, 6th grade, and 6th grade, respectively.

Pro: No responsibilities! I have enough organizational obligations in my recreational life. Here I can just show up, smile, and just hang out.

Pro: The Captain will get to find out which cheerleader got pregnant right after graduation and which popular football player is hanging drywall. That is his motivation.

Con: The inevitable steady stream of dids, dos, and ares. Where did you go to college? What do you do? Where do you live now? What did you do with my food? Why are you staring at my chest?

Pro: If the guys and I go, if it all goes to shit we can just get wasted together.

Actually, that’ll be just like it was 10 years ago, and really that’s the best kind of reunion one can ask for.

My Mother’s Day usually consists of sending flowers to my older sister (who is a mother, despite the fact that I still think of her as just my sister), and my mother, and taking my mother to dinner with my younger sister. It’s kinda routine, which isn’t to say that it isn’t special, but it does warrant a little bit of a change now and again to break up the monotony.

Right when I was considering my options for something new, I received a message through the wonders of the MyFace from the Blog Celebrity that gave me the resolution to my quest. For each of the moms in my life, they’re getting one of these…

Filled with these…

Or these, if you so prefer…

Flowers may be colorful and they may also smell good, but these are colorful, smell good, and taste good. Now go thee forth and spread The Gospel of Deliciousness.

Over the course of my life I’ve met a number of people who were introduced to an age-restricted substance at a young age. Well, I should say over-introduced. As a means of preventing future use, these folks were made to drink more than they should, or smoke a bunch of cigarettes in a row, or even smoke a cigar without being explained to how you’re supposed to smoke one. The end result has usually been that the person got sick and never wanted to do that thing again. This is the rationale that I choose to use to explain what happened on Saturday night.

On Saturday night, Striker got into some beer.

Now when I say “got into some beer,” I mean “knocked over a bottle of beer, unbeknownst to anyone in my apartment, and proceeded to lick an unknown quantity of it off of the floor.” By midnight he was plopped down on the kitchen floor and not reacting to anything. Not a snap of the fingers or throwing of a toy was getting that puppy up. Eventually I did manage coax him out to pee, but after that it was back inside. He curled up next to the bed and went to sleep, and I found him in the same exact position the following morning. He didn’t wake up until shortly after 9am, and that’s about 2½ hours later than he usually wakes up. I am convinced he was hungover.

I am also convinced that he’ll never drink again.

It is probably no secret around these parts that I’m a fan of HBO’s Entourage. The writers’ strike pushed the opening of the new season from June to September of this year, and HBO’s started running ads for the new season. With that in mind, and in an effort to make my Jewish readership happy, I bring you some of my favorite Ari Gold moments from past seasons.

It’s a wonder the snooze button even works on my alarm clock. I’m one of those people that sets the alarm 15 or 20 minutes earlier than he needs to get up so he can get the psychological benefit that comes with hitting the snooze button to get those “few extra minutes” of sleep. Of course, that completely ignores the fact that it’s probably better to just get those 15 or 20 minutes of sleep uninterrupted, but again, it’s merely psychological.

Lately, though, I haven’t been hitting the snooze button that much. You see, the puppy is on my schedule now. When I’m up, he’s up, and his little puppy bladder is ready to release. It’s been helping me keep away from the snooze, because if I hit it once it’s only a few moments before I hear a more alarming (ha!) sound:

The Puppy Pee Whine.

“Dude, I have like 6 hours of pee in me, and if you don’t take me out now I’m going to go right here.”

So much for those “few extra minutes.”

All this has meant that now I’m ready with more than a few minutes to spare before having to head out the door. Now I can actually make a legitimate breakfast if I want. Truth be told, this has been a blessing in disguise… when it’s a work day. You see, dogs don’t have a concept of what day of the week it is. So come Saturday and Sunday, the dog is up at 6:30 and ready to go.

“Dude, I know you came home at 3 in the morning, but there are things more important than your sleep right now, unless you want to break out the paper towels, the Woolite, and the carpet brush.”

Yeah, not as cool on the weekends, but still better than cleaning up pee. (Goose and The Law, this is your future)

And to prove that this blog hasn’t gone to the dog(s) of late, it seems someone signing in our guest book has a sense of humor…

(okay, so I don’t want the hits that would be generated by searches for this combo of words, so let’s just say it rhymes with “smellybutt spritzer” and “spraypower”)