ode to my next door neighbors' dog...

My whole life I thought I liked dogs but now I realize that I don't really. I realize that I view animals on a guilty until proven innocent basis (my policy for people as well).

Growing up in Mississippi, the dogs seemed much more likeable. Like the people, they have adopted a more mellow, easy-going way of life. There are bigger yards and more designated places for them to run wild.

I don't know what it is about the bay area but the dogs attitudes reflect those of the people. They seem slightly aggressive and, for the most part, unfriendly. I don't get it. They prance their dogs around like the hottest fashion accessories and flash you a dirty look when you so much as glance at the dogs. It is not the same in L.A. The people and the dogs were much more approachable. People would notice me looking at their dogs and do everything from nod in recognition to offer to let me pet their dogs.

Anyway... I digress... I hate my next door neighbors' dog. Is it the dogs fault? Not really... It is allowed to stay in the yard and bark continuously and aggressively all day. (literally, all day) My neighbors have a rather large family. I have counted at the very least six children, all nearly a year apart in age. The father only appears at barbecues and parties, while the mom only comes out of the house to do the occasional laundry or to scream horrible things to the unruly kids in Spanish. They have been living next door for over a year and the kids seem to be left to their own devices. The older two are relatively quiet. The oldest of the middle children likes to hide behind the fence and stare at me as I read/smoke/whatever. She thinks I can't see her but I could make out her coke bottle glasses from the thinnest space in the fence. The other two run rampant, screeching in babytalk gibberish and the newborn cries in a low-whine at all times. Needless to say, they are a very loud bunch.

Then about two months ago, they added yet another member to their already large, boisterous family; a young dog. It is hard to tell how old he is, as I have always seen him through a crack in the fence. He is obviously a chihuahua mix (about the size of one and with the disproportionately large ears). It is really out of control how much he barks... I mean, continually like a broken record. If anyone makes the slightest noise, he is immediately running as close to the source as possible, growling and yapping at it. As I have observed, no one barely pays attention to it, let alone brings it inside or scolds it.

What is wrong with these people? I understand that they don't discipline their kids so why do it for the dog but come on! I had a dog for over ten years. He was a basset hound and very prone to barking. I effectively disciplined him to the point where he barely barked at all inside and almost nonexistently outside. I know it can be done. My parents only allowed me to get my dog if I proved myself to be a responsable owner. To get my dog, I had to show that I could feed, walk and discipline it.

Don't get me wrong, I know barking for a dog is talking for us. I understand that people and other animals alike can get riled and express themselves vocally and I am not against that at all. It is the constant bark all day that I cannot take. Why did they get a dog in the first place? The mother is already at the end of her proverbial rope with the kids so why add a dog (possibly a puppy) to the mix?

Something has to be done about this...

The coincidence of the blue shirt...

So I was going through my myspace page and I noticed that in nearly all of my pictures I am wearing my navy blue polo with the strawberry on the left breast and the bleach spot on the left forearm. I started wondering if it is something that is weirding people out, so let me formally address this.

YES it is the same shirt and NO I do not wear this shirt every day.

I once wrote a short story about a girl who was going out with this guy who was always wearing the same thermal undershirt that was faded to offwhite with discernible stains on the cuffs and such. Great guy and all, but he wore the same shirt every single day. Finally, it got to the point where they were having sex and he still wore the shirt. The next day, she awoke to hear the shower. She peaked in his closet to find no other thermal offwhite shirts then started to sneak into the bathroom to catch him showering (hopefully not wearing the shirt). By the time she made it in, he was wearing the shirt and drying his legs and feet.

Let me assure you. I wear a plethora of other shirts in many different colors (yellow, orange and chartreuse are not among them). Granted there is not much variety there because I am unbelievably pale and only darkish stuff works on me. I wear it as much as I wear the other shirts for the most part.

The reason all the pictures seem to catch me wearing it is simply because it is a good default travelling shirt. Think about it... You are going on a trip to some exotic locale. You want to pack clothes that are stylish because you want to take pictures and look damn good in them. BUT you also want something comfortable: pants that accentuate your figure but are comfortable enough to walk seven miles in them, a shirt that isn't too uncomfortable to walk those seven miles in or may get dirty from hiking on that dusty trail or cling too tightly after that heavy lunch at that delicious Brooklyn bagel shop.

It's dark, which is automatically slenderizing. It hugs my few curves but is not tight. It breaths well so I can walk all over creation and not be drenched in sweat. It would be cute as hell if it was not for that nasty bleach stain, which magically is not noticeable in pictures. It gives me the power to read people's thoughts so I can manipulate them into being my slaves...


SO until then... I will continue taking my shirt with me on excursions and wearing it every other week and, due to my level of comfort and all, take really good pictures in it. I will continue to post them because I am not photogenic at all. If I take a good picture, far be it from me to leave it on the cutting room floor just because that shirt is too prevalent in my pictures. Hell, maybe I should make an entire book chronicling the adventures of me and my trusty blue polo.

I love ya, shirt. I can't wait to take you on my next hike.