I'm not really a pet person, that distinction belongs to my sister in spades. It's not that I dislike pets, I think they're fine if you enjoy them. One thing I will never understand is pet lovers who lose sight of the fact that Fluffy is a dog. I am tired of people who pamper these mutts to the point of absurdity. In Long Island City where I work, there is a Doggie Lounge. I thought it was a bar when I first passed it, but au contraire, it is a lounge fitted out with cushions, scratching posts, and a treat bar where dogs can come in and hang with other dogs. Their owners sit around sipping green tea while Fluffy frolics. Patronizing the Doggie Lounge is one of the fifty sure signs that you have too much money.
Let's stay on the dog theme as long as we're here. How many times do you see people driving with Fluffy in their laps? Talking on cell phones and texting are bad enough, but driving with a frisky canine scrambling all over your steering wheel is the mother lode of distracted driving. I have seen men do this, but ladies, nine out of ten times it's YOU! Buy cute little coats for the dog, feed him prime cuts of meat, even sleep with the hairball if you like, but for God's sake when you get behind the wheel, put the @#$%&* dog in the back seat.
I try to give blood three or four times a year. I've done it for a long time and maybe it will be one of the few things on the plus side of the ledger when I get to the big accountant in the sky. Every time I go, I fill out the same multi-page questionnaire requesting the same information. Why can't the Red Cross, once they verify that I am who I say I am, just ask me if there have been any changes in my answers since the last time I donated? The questions are funny too. My favorite is: "Have you been paid money for sex in the past year?" PAID? I can't give it away for free!
My wife refuses to go to the movies any more with me. I'm sorry, but for ten bucks a ticket, I want to hear the actors, not the morons behind me. There are the obvious jerks...noisy candy openers, loud talkers and seat kickers, but my special button-pusher is the guy who repeats the punch line of every joke to his humor-challenged wife, and then hee-haws loud enough for me to miss the counter-punch line that follows. I sit there like a cartoon Elmer Fudd with smoke coming out of my ears while Bugs Bunny behind me does everything possible to ruin the one movie a year I get to see. At this point I turn around and say the kind of things that made my wife stop going to the movies with me.
This one's a real nit pick, but I'm on a roll and thought I'd throw it in. I drink red wine and order it by the bottle when I go to a restaurant. Some waiters have no idea how to present and serve a bottle of wine. I'm no snob, but I do know that a red wine needs to be savored. That means filling the glass about 1/3 to 1/2 full, no more, especially in the fish bowls that double as wine glasses these days. This way the drinker has room to swirl the wine around before sipping; a technique that brings out the full bouquet of the wine. Instead, the waiter sometimes fills the glasses nearly to the brim like he was pouring a "Big Gulp". I know they do this to encourage you to drink more, but it's wrong. I usually ask to pour the wine myself, which makes them get all pissy, but for me, that's part of the fun.
Well, thanks for listening buckaroos, this was cleansing for me and a whole lot cheaper than seeing a therapist.
SEE DATES ABOVE RIGHT FOR OTHER POSTS FROM "BRAINDROPS". ALSO, READ MY OTHER BLOG: SPALDEEN DREAMS