Wednesday, September 16, 2009
One of my greatest fears is having people ask me for directions while I’m out walking Franny. Not because I could easily be confused for a homeless person or a terrorist in my dog walking garb. Because I suck with directions. People see the dog and they think dog=local resident=human map.
Well, yes and no. My iPhone knows its way around really well, which is great for me, but awkward and slow with strangers. “Uh, hang on, let’s look it up here. Let’s see, maps…ok, what’s the street? These little buttons are really sensitive, oops…oops. Ok, it’s just loading, just a sec. Are…are you on vacation sir?…it’s still loading, give me a second.”
But when people ask directions, they expect an answer. And you can’t guess. Or you shouldn’t, anyway. Because that’s really the worst thing you can do. The hottest sections of hell are reserved for people who guess while giving directions.
So usually I’ll just say, “I’m sorry I really don’t know, I’m walking a friend’s dog.”
People do not like this.
Typically I get a look that that says, I know you know, so why aren’t you telling me…asshole? Or sometimes I get a look that says, How could you possibly live here and not know your way around….asshole? Sometimes people just stand and stare, like the answer is coming, it just hasn’t hit me yet. So we stand there in silence.
Well, not perfect silence. I can hear Spit it out, asshole loud and clear.
Then it hits me.
“Oh, well now that I think about it, I think it’s, uhhhh, that way.”
Posted by s. moe at 8:54 AM
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Crissy and I did many enjoyable New Yorky things this weekend…Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, Coney Island. But I’m not interested in reporting on those things. Instead, I’d like to report on a true milestone for us.
The day we officially became yuppies.
It went a little something like this. The missus and I woke up on Saturday, slipped our sleeping masks off with a stretch and a yawn, and patted our dog/child’s furry head. After a quick stroll and several remarks about the lovely weather, we decided to get a bite to eat.
I dressed myself in a newly purchased outfit, which Crissy told me looked truly adorable. I checked myself in the mirror just to make sure I looked appropriately DeGeneres for a jaunt about the city, and we were off.
We decided to lunch at Le Pain Quotidien. Yes, it’s a chain, but since they include the caloric intake of each item on the menu, we decided it would suffice. “This will be splendid,” I remarked. “Quite,” Crissy responded.
After perusing the menu with our shared monocle, I decided to go with the organic steel cut oatmeal topped with fresh fruit, and a soft-boiled egg. Crissy selected a roast beouf tartine, with caper mayonnaise, diced tomatoes, and scallions, served on toast points. It was to die for.
In fact, our lunch was so divine that we both chewed in silence, eyes closed, air-conducting to Mozart’s Serenade No. 13 in G Major, which was softly playing over the tinkling of fine crystal and seafood forks.
It was at that very moment we decided to have 1.5 children, name it Madison Wentworth Porsche Mulroy, and do a Craigslist search for nannies named Isabella.
P.S. Every single detail in this post is true except for the monocle part. We never share.
Posted by s. moe at 11:13 AM
Monday, September 7, 2009
The other day I noticed a familiar face at the dog run. It was so familiar that I made Kev bust out his iphone so I could google the guy's dog and famous wife. Right there in front of us was Leeann Rimes' soon-to-be-ex-husband, Dean. We've seen him there twice now with his big poufy Papillion. He just sits there, alone, texting on his phone.
It's so weird to me that I even know who this "normal" guy is, and how I know such intimate details of his life -like how his wife started banging her cheesy co-star during the filming of a Lifetime movie of the week, and that she just filed for divorce and ran off to Mexico for a lover's getaway. Or that he and Leeann's new guy's ex-wife are bonding over both of them being dumped, and that there are rumors swirling that Dean is gay. So it makes me sad that he's here, figuring out his new life, taking care of the dog and he's all alone all the time.
Tonight we saw him eating dinner on the patio of a nearby restaurant, alone again. I wanted to walk up to him and say "Hi Dean, my name is Crissy and this is my husband, Kevin. We've seen you at the dog park recently and I know you're new to the city, wow, what a big change this must be for you coming from LA, so if you ever need some friends to walk your dog with, give us a call. We are nice trustworthy, midwestern people and we know you're going through a tough time right now and you can't spend all of your time alone. You need people around. Seriously. Okay?!"
Then I imagine myself giving him a hug. He looks like he might need one.