Loot

February 26, 2007

It’s a big day when it’s your birthday and on February 16th, Archie turned one year old. (Happy birthday, buddy!)

Beyond all the hoopla of finally reaching the year one milestone, what really concerns me is the amount of stuff the dog — the dog — received for his birthday. And not from his owners!

Here’s the breakdown:

  • Brown corduroy jacket with wool lining (and pockets)
  • Red and gold silk Chinese jacket with wool lining
  • Black, goose down winter jacket — reversible
  • Orange fleece pullover with reflector strap on neck
  • Birthday cake squeak toy (his favorite)
  • Hand colored paper for chewing

And if that wasn’t enough, we, his owners, had to actually get him some things as well:

  • Tennis ball — red and blue with white stars
  • Whizzle stick — foot long version
  • Whizzle stick — two foot long version
  • Liver treats

The dog is spoiled.

(And it’s a testament to his effect on people.)

Meat Log

February 21, 2007

Now if there’s one thing mankind has worked hard to perfect, it’s the meat log. For centuries, this food source has been a staple in the diet of millions. In all it’s various forms, it’s greatness lies in it’s taste and most importantly, it’s ability to be eaten by hand without utensils. Some would argue (convincingly) that the meat log pre-dates utensils.

My own experience with the meat log goes back a long way as you might imagine. Hot dogs, sausages, salami, pepperoni and all their bastard children (i.e., the Slim Jim) were early components of every lunch I ate. As I grew and ventured into the world, I discovered the burrito. For years, the burrito was a compulsion. I fondly remember scouring Chicago for an entire summer on a two-fold mission: discover (and eat) the largest burrito in Chicago; and to ask each shop owner if his (or her) burrito was the best in town.

(For those who care: The biggest burrito was about the size of a deflated basketball and it wasn’t as tasty as some of the thousand others we tasted. Regarding the shop owners: It seems that a nimble neon sign salesman had sold every burrito shop in Chicago the same exact sign bearing the words, “Best Burrito In Town” in gleaming red leading us to question each shop owner. We actually found one who admitted, despite the sign, that his burrito was not the best in town.)

And so it’s with joy that I want to tell you about my latest discovery: the meatloaf wrap. That’s right. A savvy entrepreneur has combined the delicious ingredients of a complete meatloaf dinner (or meatloaf sandwich, if you prefer) into log form.

Now while you space out with that thought, picture adding bacon and hot peppers into the mix.

Yeah, that’s drool on your keyboard. Happened to me the first time I read the menu. Here’s the ingredient list of my favorite variety for all you chefs at home:

  • Meatloaf
  • Bacon
  • Hot Peppers
  • Melted Cheddar Cheese
  • Lettuce
  • Gravy
  • Wrapped in a tortilla

(And for those on a diet, there are turkey versions available.)

Scary Stuff

January 4, 2007

Okay, so Archie has complained that I haven’t posted enough about him, so here it goes:

The other day I actually watched Archie scare himself with his own flatulence.

French Bulldogs (and bulldogs in general) are known to have bad gas and Archie is no different. Depending on his diet, he can drop silent bombs that clear crowded theaters.

The best is when we’re on the subway and he farts. Then I get looks of horror as fellow passengers assume it was me. Screaming, “It was the dog!” doesn’t seem to convince them. Odd and horrible smells aren’t unusual on the NYC subway, but Archie seems to be capable of shocking even the most hardened transit riders.

But I digress. So there we are, Archie and I, just sitting and looking at each other. He rips out a loud fart and then, to my amazement, his ears perk up and he actually looks back at his ass. As if he didn’t realize he was capable of such a sound. As if he didn’t realize he had an ass.

Quite funny (albeit stinky).

[Note: If you don’t believe me regarding Frenchie gas, read this.]

Private Moments In Public

December 8, 2006

There are times in our lives when we find our most private moments occurring in public. It can be embarrassing for us as well as those around. No one plans this to happen and most would certainly try to avoid it, but circumstances and emotions are rarely on fixed schedules. There are certain things our society doesn’t want to admit to — that people are scared, angry, sick or in this case — sad.

I got on the train with Archie and there was a middle-aged woman sitting down across from us looking vrey, very sad. She was dressed in modest business attire with her bag and purse on her lap.

Now, when we get on the train, there is a general staring and amusement at Archie poking his head out of his bag — as well as my carrying him. People smile and nudge their friends and family to point us out. The adventurous ask questions or pet Archie.

This woman was no different. While we we far enough away that she couldn’t talk with us, I did see her notice Archie and smile a little.

Of course, as the train barreled along, she relapsed back into her despair and soon began quietly crying. She looked miserable — face red, eyes welled up and just downright sad. Overall, just a bad day and another person in the crowded subway, right?

Not quite. As people shuffled on and off the train at each stop, Archie and I moved further into the car and soon found ourselves standing next to the woman.

To my surprise, she came out of her depression and offered us her seat. Now, Archie and I decline these offers as it’s more of a pain to situate our selves in a seat than to just keep standing.

But I was impressed that someone so obviously distraught could think of others at the same time.

It also re-enforced my understanding of the power of pets to help people. Archie makes people smile all the time.

I hope the woman feels better.

Winter Fashion

December 8, 2006

Fashion is cyclical and certain trends come back around for a second (or third) time. Winter fashion has it’s own special style in places where the weather is the deciding factor in ones outfit.

And so this week I saw a winter fashion I haven’t seen since my years in Chicago — the wearing of a plastic bag on the head.

That’s right, it gets so downright cold that people put plastic bags over their head and ears to help ward off the frigid winter air.

Now this may seem dangerous and many of you are recalling all the TV news warnings about not letting kids play with plastic shopping bags, but we’re talking about adults.

Adults with no hats. No earmuffs. No sense of style. No shame.

As someone who has had his hair actually freeze due to the cold, I can sympathize a little — very little. I mean, any large chain drug store sells winter stocking caps for about $2. Not a huge investment to keep your head and ears warm. Buck up the dough people! There is no valid reason for wearing a plastic bag on your head.

Yes, it’s waterproof and that’s a nice advantage, but think of the kids! Beyond looking like a homeless person, you’re actually encouraging dangerous behavior in children.

To make matters worse, the offender I saw sporting this trash fashion was actually wearing the plastic bag you get at the liquor stores here in NYC. The bonus points you get because it’s all black are immediately erased because you look like a drunk.

Where do Christmas trees come from?

November 30, 2006

Apparently, if you live in New York City, they come off a massive 18-wheeler.

Seems obvious, but I never thought about it before. They seem to just appear in open air markets on street corners after Thanksgiving.

Late last night, I saw them rumbling through the streets on their way to street corners around Manhattan. Quietly taking their positions to wait.

And before you realize, it will be international dump your dead tree on the sidewalk day. One of my most hated of holidays.

Running

November 20, 2006

One feature of NYC I have recently noticed is that people run.

Not for exercise, not jogging, not, as I initially suspected, to get away from the cops, but for some other unknown reason all their own.

I have seen people run in the, “jeez, I’m late” kind of way, but I wasn’t so surprised by that type of running. I’m talking about the weird running for no apparent reason. I’m talking about the guy wearing brown corduroy pants running down the middle of the street on a Sunday.

Another feature of this city that has me intrigued. People run. It’s just that kind of town.