I am filled with hate.

This week I hate:

  • That Fancy Feast commercial with the woman doing Yoga, which is
    very trendy because this is the 80’s. I hate it because of the line “Is
    it love, or is it Fancy Feast?” Poor cat woman, alone, practicing her
    yoga, isn’t even loved by her cat.

  • Going to the fax machine and finding information from AARP. No
    matter who I give it to they will be insulted, but I can’t just leave
    it there or I’ll get yelled at.

  • Some random woman named Jennifer, except she spelled it “Jennapher”.

  • My own crushing lack of ambition.

  • Secretaries and receptionists who are rude.

  • Lack of air conditioning in my car.

  • My car in general.


For Suzy:

Here's that Coldplay sounds just like Sum41 song.
If you don't believe me, fade the left and right speakers in and out ( In the left channel... "The Scientist" by Coldplay. In the right channel... "Pieces" by Sum41).

Doesn't mean I don't like Coldplay, even if he is another whiny British fellow. Just means there's only a handful of pop chords to work with.

When I get bored I listen to Eastern music, which has a completely different grammar. Gives me hope that there is somewhere else to go creatively.


Goodbye ducks.

Our ducks were killed last night by a husky from down the street.

We normally put them in a small, lit cage near the door when it gets dark, but last night we procrastinated as we had friends over. But as Mike and Stef were leaving, the dog pushed jumped over the fence and attacked the ducks.
He seemed the happy go-lucky sort, and I don’t blame the animal. Juneau had one of those electric fence collars—his owners probably were two stupid to realize the batteries had died.

We tied him up to a post last night with a dog chain, and I assume the owners heard him barking some time in the night because he was gone in the morning, the chain not broken but unfastened.

According to the law, outside of small claims court, there isn’t much we can do. Without the dog in possession we can’t prove it, and all the owners get is a ticket for an expired dog license. Laws for animals attacking other animals are full of loopholes and there isn’t much you can do.

So yeah, last night sucked.

Update: The owner came over, a child psychologist. He did come get his dog early this morning, and he seems an alright guy, more heart than brains type. Rescues huskies from shelters and currently has four. Gave us some money and, with no sense of irony, a Duck Xing sign he painted himself (paints all manner of little wooden signs as a side job). Autumn is still pretty sad, but we're not the sort to add Greed to the stages of loss.

Our days as suburban agrarians are over for now.


Habits of mine that annoy the hell out of me:

1) Whenever I am finished with a meal at my mother’s house I place my fork and knife in an X across my plate.
2) I always mark the time and location when I see an armored car go by. For instance, today at 8:57 a.m. at the corner of Davis Lake Road and Saginaw I saw a red Guardian Armored van. This habit is much more incriminating now that I have written it down.
3) I have a hard time explaining computer principles to people without commandeering their keyboard and mouse and simply doing it for them.
4) I wince or even hide when embarrassing situations occur on television, even comedy sitcoms.
5) I never believe anything I am told until I verify it myself. On the surface, a healthy habit, but it comes off as arrogant when I am dealing with someone’s personal experience or area of expertise.
6) It is very hard for me to cross any street without breaking into a nervous run, no matter how deserted.
7) I obsessively check if my fly is down, unless it is, and then I only notice it hours later, normally after church.
8) Almost anything I hear reminds me of a song.
9) Whatever word salad I am currently using repetitively this month as an exclamatory phrase. In the past: “Marzipan briefcase,” “Monkey butler,” “Sweet fancy Moses.”