The War of the Poop Worlds
So last night I was walking Chloe, who never really likes to walk, as you have heard about once, or twice or ten times, and there, right in front of our building, I see this 20 something woman pick up her pooch (also a toy poodle) and put him in the fenced off tree to do his business. So I marched over with a proper amount indignence, pulling Chloe behind me, while at that second, her dog takes a poop. “Um, excuse me. They put that fence there so our dogs WOULDN’T crap or pee on the newly planted BUSHES.” “I PICK IT UP,” she says. And besides, I can’t control where my (8 pound) poodle goes.
“Oh REALLY?? That’s why they have LEASHES.” And she very intelligently replies, “That’s YOUR opinion.” Several moments later, I am narrating the story to the doorman and Poodle Pooper lady comes to the very same door! She LIVES with me! “You don’t have to go TELLING everyone!” she says. “I LIVE HERE.”
Yeah, I say. Then you should CURB YOUR DOG. “He’s a country dog and not used to going on the cement,” is her excuse. “Then use WEE WEE pads,” I offer. “I DO,” she says. “Then why are you letting him SHIT ON OUR TREES???”
“Listen,” she threatens. “I live here and pay a lot of rent, so you better watch out”. Oh REALLY? I respond. “Maybe if your dog didn’t CRAP on the trees, they wouldn’t have had to put EXPENSIVE fences around them and your RENT WOULDN’T be so high!!”
Is it me? Or have people just gotten ruder?? (NOTE: No trees, plant or other green leafy things harmed in the writing of this article)
The moment
“I’m too tired now. Let’s just get a cab.” And then, the next moment, up she goes, flinging her arms around his neck. And for a moment, I was back there, feeling as tall as the world, looking down on my daddy’s hair, smelling his spicy after shave, and thinking, in that moment, the little girl should never let go.
Now this IS art…
And not by any famous artist either.
The Tall Tale of the Precision Pooper
So, as you may or may not know, Chloe is a pain in the ass when it comes to potty time. I guess I have to cut her a little slack because my sister and I share custody (long story–but great to have some downtime–like being able to go out at night after work because I don’t have to rush home to the pup). Well, anyhow, so she’s back in the city after a long time in the burbs, and this generally creates poop havoc…that is, she doesn’t– poop, that is. I am guessing, there is a potty adjustment period. But finally, last night, it came. Very, very precisely.
And I just, I just want to KILL HER. But I can’t.
The Good News, The Bad News
So, the good news is that the GINOROUS scaffolding on 23rd street which I have spend the last year avoiding is FINALLY coming down. The bad news is that THIS is hovering over the sidewalk now. 
And despite all intentions to be safe, how safe is it? Are these pedestrians just blissfully unaware, or just stupid? But hell, the contractors know what they are doing, right?
Obama’s Fashion Sense: The Real Reason I Voted
As many of you know, I was one of those swing votes. Never seriously considering McCain after Governor Palin’s arrival, I just wasn’t really sold on Obama. I was looking for a sign, ANY sign, that he was a man who had my values. And THEN, this ran in the NY Post: “Brothers”, he says “Stop sagging. You are walking by your mother, your grandmother…your underwear is showing. Come on.” Finally, a sign. What’s your reason?
You Call This Art?: Part III
When I was young, they called this a tree house. But, that was, like, a very long time ago. I am clearly in the wrong business.
