GINGER

I’m not going to lie to you. Almost all dogs eat discarded food on the street. Lots of dogs eat vomit. And some dogs even eat poop. They say poop eating is a result of a dietary deficiency that they are trying to fill, so crappy kibble is a big reason they do it. But some just do it because they’re naughty and enjoy the big reaction from the humans when they do.

As a side note, my friend Megan found a really good website that analyzes the content of various dog foods and posts reviews. It helps you see if your dog is eating mostly filler and not enough protein or vitamins. The guy doing the reviews seems legit and not like a lackey for some company: www.dogfoodadvisor.com. Poor Hapoochie was eating a three star food till I was shown that site! The horror!

Anyway, my story. I’m sitting at the dog park on Sunday morning, minding everyone else’s business, when I see a miniature poodle go into the infamous hunch. Then I see his buddy, another nasty little poodle, run up to him to sniff. Or at least I thought it was to sniff. Imagine my disbelief when he opened his nasty little mouth with its nasty little teeth and began eating the other dog’s excrement AS IT CAME OUT OF HIM.

Enjoy your lunch!

I saw some nasty, sloppy-drunk men loitering on the front steps of a masonic building on my walk home last night (at like 5 in the afternoon!), and true to form, one of them was urinating against a cement slab. I get so ever-loving SICK of that crap, so I yell as I walk past, “That’s disgusting, you drunk pigs!” The one not peeing yells back, “What, you don’t like the dick? I bet you like this dick!” So I turn around and flip him off and yell, “Why don’t you go F yourself, how’s that sound? Disgusting idiots.”

A proud day for everyone.

After not having gone to the actual dentist since 2006, and not getting my teeth cleaned since 2009 (by a Baltimore County community college student), I finally went to get a checkup and cleaning yesterday. And you know what? My teeth are totally fine. They barely needed to be scraped. No cavities at all.

It is ALL genes and fluoridated water, let me tell you, cos sometimes I will go a whole weekend without brushing my teeth. THANKS DAD!

I have a couple of fb friends who literally cannot walk out of their houses without posting pictures of what they did on facebook. I get it! You are the most popular person IN THE WORLD! Posting photos of every single person you’ve ever met isn’t trying too hard at all!

This video is dedicated to YOU:

Vegas overshare

As you know, I don’t usually make new year’s resolutions because I know I won’t keep them. Or I’ll make dumb ones like “give up healthy food.” But this year I made two:

1) Try to stop making overarching, declarative general statements about things I will always/never do or not do, like or not like, etc. I’m judgmental, I admit it, and I like to look at others’ choices and say I would never do such a thing. But I suspect I’ll have to backpedal in the future, which is an unappealing prospect.

However, I stand by the eyebrow overplucking.

2) Try to go on more walks. (Kyla, do you agree? lol)

I don’t see it nearly as much as I used to, but I still occasionally do: distressingly overplucked eyebrows. It seems to rear its ugly (and I mean ugly) head the worst in girls from my generation and from the one before mine. Teenagers, who, I hate to break it to you, are the ones dictating the next fashion movements, don’t do it, and I’m glad of that. They look cute.

Anyway, from too skinny to waaaaaay to far apart, I think overplucked brows make even beautiful people look creepy, older than their age, and just somehow not right. A prime example is Rachel Weisz. I remember seeing her in The Mummy movies and wondering what in god’s name she was doing to her eyebrows. I was SO glad in more recent years when she grew them back in. Also when she swooped in and nabbed Daniel Craig. Rar.

Rachel was very young in this photo but looks old.

Here she is more recently, and doesn’t she look miles better?

So note to the ladies – don’t overpluck. It’s nasty.

As always, I have to start out my year with a complaint. On the night of New Year’s Day, I came down with some kind of horrible bug and commenced to shivering and sweating and aching in the joints all night and most of the next day. The next night was marginally better, as was the next day, and now I’m back at work with only a 1 degree higher than normal temperature.

It was seriously so bad on January 2 that when I got up to take the dogs out (I was watching a friend’s dog), I had to lay down on the sidewalk for five minutes because I thought I was going to pass out. “You couldn’t just have sat?” asked my mother. In fact, no, I had to lay, it was that bad. “Are you ok?!” hollered a concerned landscaper who saw me go down. “No, I have the fluuuuuu! I need to reeeeeeest!” I whined back, and that was enough of an answer for him to leave me alone. Sorry to disappoint the romantics, but I was not picked up and gallantly carried to safety that day. Instead, after I got my wits about me, I got back up with a dirt clod in my hair (not discovered till later, unfortunately) and shambled back inside.

So anyway, I’m still not 100% today, and I think it’s partially because I swear they put rat poison in my apartment over Christmas break and I’ve somehow come in contact with it. Or I might just be sick. Either way.

As I was walking down the street the other evening, walking my dog, I looked up at the sky and trees and thought, “What a beautiful night.” And I thought about how I felt happy, basically for no reason, and how being alone and getting to appreciate everything all to myself, just with myself, felt really nice. It was and is all I want.

I know so many people who spend their evenings a little sad that they don’t have a significant other, or even when they’re out doing fun, amazing things, they have that twinge that they wish they could be sharing it with someone they love. I don’t have that.

I like spending time by myself, I like seeing or experiencing things and not having to clutter them up by yammering about them with someone else, but just thinking about them, all alone. It lets me be in the moment more. I don’t have to convince anyone of my point of view, or show anyone what I see, or discuss with anyone what’s to be gotten out of it. I just get to let everything happen and process and really experience it with no distractions.

That’s not to say I don’t like being around people or sharing things with them, or that I never want to be in a romantic relationship again. One of my greatest joys is hanging out with my friends, talking and laughing and rehashing events and conjecturing on others’ motives and behaviors and what-have-you. But when all of that is over, and I come home to my dark apartment and think about my life and what I’m doing with it, I never, ever feel sad that I’m alone. In fact, I feel happy and free.

I can’t help it, and it’s probably not a good habit to get into in this world where everyone pairs off, cos I could very well live like this forever and be considered weird. But it feels good to me, the aloneness is lovely. I pity the people who are lonely and wanting more and can’t appreciate what they have because they’re not in a relationship. Life is gorgeous by yourself.

A friend of mine wrote on another friend’s facebook wall, “I hope you had a relaxing and enjoyable day,” for their birthday. Are we that old and awful that instead of saying, “I hope you rocked the shit out of your day,” we’re hoping it’s RELAXING? She’s younger than I am! I realize this is coming from someone who deliberately hermited away her entire Thanksgiving break, but a relaxing birthday sounds old and depressing.

As always, I’m not going home for Thanksgiving this year. For the past couple of years, I’ve either hosted a feast at my house, or gone over to friends’ houses whose parents were in town. Which have all been really fun! But this year Maureen and Mindy are out of town, Christina and Christoph don’t live in NYC anymore, and suddenly I’m facing four days alone in an empty city.

I CAN’T WAIT!

I was actually invited to a couple of holiday meals, don’t cry for me Argentina, but I am really looking forward to chillin at home. I’m gonna take my dog on a hike, go to an early matinee, watch some Netflix, read gossip magazines, drink champagne, and in general love my life. I might do a brunch on Black Friday, I feel like making crepes again.