Friday, November 13, 2009

November 13th


Sometimes I'm convinced that people have to pass a Rude Moron test before being issued a Costco membership. There are always the ones who are so frantic to get a free sample of something that they park their butts and their carts right in the way of anyone who doesn't want a little bite of some random food item and just wants to shop. Yesterday's winner of the Rude Moron of the Day Award was a completely clueless woman who looked like she escaped from an East County trailer park without bringing her hairbrush. The vitamin aisle at Costco is usually the worst. People block the aisle standing next to their carts while trying to decide which bottle of Vitamin C to buy. Yesterday was business as usual, with the added thrill of this moron who was standing next to a cart yakking on a cell phone. Someone said "excuse me" trying to get through, and she didn't think that actually moving out of the way was a good idea, she just flattened herself against the shelf, and then stepped right back out as soon as that one person went by, despite the fact that there were at least three other people wanting to get through the aisle. I made a comment that she obviously thought that talking on the phone was more important than paying attention and getting out of the way. Well, Miss Trailer Trash didn't think that SHE was the problem. She started yelling "This isn't my cart!" Uh, so what? You're standing next to it blocking the aisle. "I'm not in anyone's way!" she yelled. So, I headed my cart right where she was standing and she finally decided that perhaps she WAS in the way and that moving was the prudent course of action. Well, she did keep yelling at me that I was rude. Okay, I'm rude. I did manage to escape the vitamin aisle though.


This poor guy has separation anxiety. He's okay in a crate as long as I'm here, but he freaks out when the front door opens. The other day I came home to find that he had escaped the crate and had pushed down the baby gate and had managed to get it wedged against the front door so that it wouldn't open. My key won't work in the outside of the side door. Fortunately I was able to get in through the back door. I got some melatonin to try with him. I'll give him one today and see if I can get him to stop freaking out when I open the front door. Poor guy even gets anxious when I get dressed.

Monday, November 2, 2009

November 2nd


Six years ago today I brought my sweet girly-girl home to foster. She never left. She had been in a shelter and adopted, but was dumped back there four months later. Skin and bones, covered with fleas and with the staples from her spay surgery still there. They guessed at the time that she was 4 1/2. so that means she's at least 10 1/2 now. I can't find her old pictures, moved to a hard drive. New ones? I'm bad about taking photos of my own dogs. The cobbler's children have no shoes.


Church Bells taken to court

Okay, I'm all for freedom of religion. But, your freedom to express your particular religious belief stops at my eardrums. (Or at my front door, I am in no way obligated to open my door to allow you to save my soul. My soul is fine, thank you very much.) The church wasn't there first, so they can't argue that people moved to the neighborhood knowing that the bells would ring starting at 6 fucking am EVERY day. The priest, rector, whatever he calls himself came off as such an arrogant bastard in the news report (I have the right to annoy you because that's how I want to express my religious fanaticism) that I wanted to take his bells and shove them up his self-righteous butt. I'm glad that the court ruled for the neighbors. The priest, rector, whatever he calls himself probably was so annoying in court that the judge was more than happy to slap him with a conviction for disturbing the peace. There's nothing wrong with tasteful ringing of bells, but apparently this was recorded bell music that was so loud that people were being woken up by it with doors and windows closed, and that clearly interferes with people's right to quiet enjoyment of their homes.