Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Twig's Problem

Twig has a problem that I am not okay with.  Excited pisser.  I love dogs, but I HATE the surprises that come along with them.  I don't like walking into a home that smells like dog pee or cat pee.  Oh shit, does mine smell like that?  How would I know?!!

My conversation with Twig this evening:

Me:  Twig, this, uh, "problem" you have?  I don't like it, and quite frankly I am getting sick of it.


Me:  Don't act so surprised, Twig.  This has been going on for a while.  I've had it!


Me:  Dammit, Twig!! Look at me when I'm talking to you!!!


Me:  That's better.  Now listen up!  I curled up in a blanket this afternoon and it smelled super wonderful like Downy.  It was awesome.  And then I pulled it closer to my face, and guess what I smelled, Twig.  Guess.  Yeah, your nervous dog piss.  At some point you got excited and had an "accident" on purpose on my fucking blanket.  So, what do you suppose I should do about this other than wash the damn thing again?  Huh?  Why can't you answer me?!!  Anyway, I think you got the point.  You should be ashamed of yourself and learn to control this problem of yours better than you are.  It's like you're not even trying.  Sometimes...I think you do it just to get me mad.  Bad dog.


End scene.

Thursday, February 07, 2013

People Skills

There is a young man that walks up and down Wenatchee Avenue everyday.  He's tall, a little lanky, has an attractive face, a nice smile, and is friendly...when he comes up and asks for "spare change".  Um...really?  Really?


He knows better than to ask me anymore because I just laugh at him.  "Do you have any spare change?"  Nope!  (Actually, I do and it would probably make my purse lighter, but c'mon.)  When he sees me coming up the hill, he just chuckles and goes to the next customer.  And to his credit, he has managed to convince people to give him money.  AND he hasn't had to expand on his location.  There's something there.  Potential, perhaps?  Yes, I believe so.  I've wondered if I should just scoop him up and take him into the coffee shop, sit him down and ask him what his deal is.  Is he incapable of getting a job?  Can he not move to an area that might have more opportunities?  Is he retarded?  What the hell?  As far as what I can tell, he seems to have excellent people skills and sales abilities.  He could be very useful in any business that required a sales associate or someone in customer service.  However...maybe the pan handling IS his job!  Maybe he's so damn good at this...I should be taking advice from him??

I've often thought what the result would be if I got dressed in one of my "once I was a real estate agent" outfits, great heels, have my hair and makeup all done and stood on the corner of a somewhat busy intersection with a sign that read:  "Don't feel like working."
Might as well be honest about it, right?  I mean, really, who doesn't like someone to cut through the bullshit and just come out with it?  "I don't want to work anymore."  "Lattes are expensive."  "These awesome shoes hurt my feet and I need to get a better pair, but they MUST come from Nordstrom." "I'm saving for a trip to Bora Bora."

I swear to god...I want to do this so bad.  Not even joking.  Why?  Why the hell not?  Is there a rule?  Do I have to look like shit to beg for money.  Okay, wait.  I wouldn't beg.  That's not me.  I wouldn't even ask.  If a car stopped, I'd just put my hand out and say, "Money."  See, no bullshit, no pleading, no unnecessary story telling.  Just the facts.  My hand is out waiting for money to be placed in it.  And no way would I go spend my pan handling money on booze.  That's trashy.  I'd go get my daily mocha because I'm classy like that.