I just ordered some “sticky flags” from OfficeMax. I was reminded when I said I wanted sticky flags (OM understood what I meant, to her credit) of a postal clerk who asked me if I wanted “sticky flags” or “sticky loves” when I asked for some stamps. I’ve always liked that.

Other random language things I like:

1. “Walking around eggs”–my description of cage-free eggs when I couldn’t think of the term cage free

2. Internal plurals such as passersby, attorneys general, mothers-in-law.

3. But if there’s no noun, you have to do the second word plural… also rans.

4. The word vituperate

5. When my honey and I were playing a game where we guess celebrities and I said, “The guy that should have been in the boodle doodle doo movies but wasn’t” and she said “Steve McQueen” which was the right answer. The boodle doodle doo movies are the Sergio Leone trilogy. I still don’t know how she got it.

6. Also one time I wanted to eat at Red Robin and I said I wanted to eat at and then bobbed up and down some and she knew that I was talking about Red Robin (from the red red robin goes bob bob bobbin along).

7. That I always could get a laugh in class if I mentioned a culture group that lived near Lake Titicaca. And that I thought it was funny too.

8. The chorus of Schoolhouse Rock’s Interjection song:

Interjections
Show excitement,
Or emotion.
They’re generally set apart from a sentence
By an exclamation point,
Or by a comma when the feeling’s not as strong.

Cool, don’t you think?

9. I don’t like that they never did a Schoolhouse Rock for prepositions (it was the one part of speech they left out) but then they did do one for the release of the CD in 1993. It’s a terrible song called “Busy P’s.” Here’s a wee sample:

Busy Prepositions.
Busy, busy, busy.
On the top is where you are.
On the top.

10. The word “wee” for small or as a happy go fast sound, but not as a stand-in for urine or urinating. I should have said “wee” when I rode my bike today. Some would contend that should be “whee” to which I say whatever.

A non language thing I don’t like, but can’t look away from…

Neve and Gliz lifesize. Avert your eyes! Walk around with the chickens!

It’s an odd thing really for someone who spends a lot of time working with people whose whole lives revolve around children to not spend much time around the actual children.

I like to have children like me. It doesn’t always work out. Several of my coworkers have children. My last encounter with them was typical. I (somewhat foolishly) brought Biscuit with me to the staff Christmas party. It was a whole–well the party is starting and the kennel is closing and I might as well bring her–thing. There were three children in attendance that night. They were all somewhat afraid of Biscuit. The two little girls liked running past her. The little boy, who didn’t like that he didn’t like her, started jumping toward her. Biscuit didn’t like it and I had to tell him not to do it. I felt bad about it. He’s AD’s son and a sweet boy. He can’t help how scared he is and he doesn’t know. But I found myself in that position of people who don’t have children needing but not wanting to correct someone else’s child. AD was, as she always is, sweet and supportive. Her daughter still will not say anything to me, despite multiple encounters. She just stares at me from under her heavy bangs.

I get along really well with my niece. She’s a fantastically imaginative and somewhat restrained 5 year old. She likes to create elaborate fantasies for her dolls, mostly princesses and mostly involving marriage. My sister-in-law does a great job to try to undo all the gender problems of the princesses in five year old imaginations. V told her recently that all the princesses knew that it didn’t matter what you looked like, but that they were still in love with the princes anyway. My nephew is almost two. He’s a wonderfully ebullient soul. I don’t know him as well as I know my niece, but I like his spirit a lot. Which is good because I’m responsible for his guidance in religious matters. I promised God and everybody. Once he can talk more, we’ll start his education. I may not tell him what they want me to.

I spent today with Jezebel aka J-Boo, aka JMPR. That’s not what I said I was going to do. I said I was going to spend the day with S and J. I did do that too, I guess. But mostly I spent the day with JMPR. According to her parents, she sets new standards for cuteness in every thing she does. It’s hard to argue the point. She has this perfect face, these fantastic cheeks that change her whole face when she smiles and a fantastic widow’s peak, which I enhanced at the end of the evening.

JMPR and I got off to a fine start when Honey and I brought her a dinosaur and some other toy. I had a JMPR stumble late this fall. I was invited to her baby blessing. I didn’t know what to expect and went unprepared. I was supposed to bring a blessing and didn’t. I then managed to get my feelings hurt which was so beside the point of the event that it’s startling. S, being the sensitive soul she is, knew I was upset. We “talked” via e-mail and sorted things out. But I still felt I owed JM something. I brought her another gift for Christmas. I still felt like I was missing something.

Today she started to play peek-a-boo with me. Actually, I didn’t have to do anything. She would smile at me, turn her head away and then flip it back around and smile. S had to sit there with her breast exposed because JM wanted to play the game while she pretended to nurse. Pretty impressive for six months old, I thought. She won me over, of course. If I didn’t think she was fantastic before (which I did), I was positive of it now.

It doesn’t change who I am, of course. I still act like a big freaky adult around kids. She’ll see that soon enough. But today she wasn’t worried about anything but her own delight in me. It made me feel wonderful.

So here it is:

May your days be full and interesting.
May your life be full of people who love you and say interesting things.
May they listen to the wonderful things you’ll say.
May you have health and happiness.

May you follow you bliss.
May it not cost too much.

Trust yourself and trust those you love.
Have adventures.
Think big thoughts and act on them sometimes.
Own as many pets as you want.

Ask your mom to teach you about romance and why true love is worth looking for.
And about science fiction
Ask your dad to teach you about computers, The Simpsons, and how to be gentle.
May you love your mother and father and understand that they are as easy to be with as any people could be.
May you forgive them for that, because it will probably irritate you at some point.

Ride a bike early and far.
Always wear a helmet.

Enjoy folk music.

Find spiritual peace where you find it. It doesn’t matter where.

Remember to love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.

I’m sure there’s more.
Here’s the deal though, thanks for forgiving me.
Bless you.

First, big props to scout for digging into the whole Olympic mascot dealio and discovering many many disturbing things. Here’s one little tidbit:

Go read her blog at your own risk–the link’s on the right. (I’m such an html wuss that I can’t get the link to show up and blogger does it for you. Lame. Weak. Whatever.)

Ok, now that that’s out of the way, slangred sent me a link to a blog I hate this morning because, well, she wanted to ruin my day. No, actually, she just wanted to confirm my hatred. Said bloggist is NOT worth linking to here, and I say that having including a picture of Gliz herein already. The blog is bad in a bad way not in a funny way. Like Neve.

Anyway, said bloggist was doing the meta-blog latest which is taking a survey about yourself. I like the survey. (To those who know which blog I’m talking about, his spacing on the survey was even annoying. That’s sort of impressive, to be annoying in the abstract and in the details). Thusly:

Four Jobs I’ve had:
a) Taco maker at Del Taco
b) Library shelver
c) S.A.T. tutor
d) Interim Director, XX Program, XX University, X

Four movies I could watch over and over:
a) Clue
b) Top Gun
c) The Thin Man
d) Libeled Lady

Four places I’ve lived:
a) Decatur, Georgia
b) Roma (see how NBC I am?)
c) Chevy Chase, Maryland
d) Beverly Hills, Studio City and most importantly Van Nuys, California (SoCal being one big blob that only counts as one place, right? BeHi and Van Nuys are EXACTLY the same, trust me).

Four television shows I love:
a) Battlestar Galactica (but y’all knew that, didn’t ya?)
b) Buffy, The Vampire Slayer (I know it’s off the air, don’t talk to me)
c) Dragnet (see above)
d) West Wing (going off the air–more dvds, less tifaux)

Four places I’ve vacationed:
a) Sequoia National Park
b) The Grand Strand, South Carolina
c) Lake Rabun, Georgia
d) Cody, Wyoming

Four favorite dishes:
a) Brunswick stew
b) Bagels with spicy cream cheese
c) Pulled pork
d) Steak, corn, and bean burrito–Chiptole

Four sites I visit daily:
a) Salon
b) Woot
c) Slate
d) Craigslist

Four places I’d rather be:
a) With my honey
b) On my bike
c) Somewhere calm
d) North Georgia

Four books I love:
a) Housekeeping
b) The Corrections
c) Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
d) Fever Pitch

Four video games I play:
a) Luxor
b) The Sims (when I have A LOT of time)
c) Bubble Trouble
d) The games on my Sega Saturn

Four bloggers I’m tagging:

See the links to scout and bryduck on the right. I also like dooce and rabbitblog. Urls=the obvious ones.

So there. One last meta-blog thing. Somebody comment, please. I feel so lonely with no comments.

What, gentle readers, is the role of the blog? It sits here and people read it, mostly my friends, I think.

I sometimes think of it as my daily hissy fit. Sometimes it’s a good hissy, other times a whiny one. There may be some among you who think there is no such thing as a good hissy fit, but as the curling commentators said this morning (sorry, this will be the only Olympics reference) sometimes you throw a bad stone and good things happen.

I’ve got hissy on the brain because Simon Cowell used it on last night’s American Idol. I like early Idol, lots of drama, less crying and painful belting. I missed the first season and Kelly Clarkson doesn’t do much for me, but have been a sporadic viewer ever since. I liked Fantasia ok, thought Clay Aiken was deeply frightening in EXACTLY the same way the Olympic mascots are (sorry, last time, I promise). LaToya London’s performance of “Don’t Rain on My Parade” was a thing of magic. I don’t like Idol for one reason: The American Public has no taste. The farther the competition goes, the more obvious that becomes. Plus which, Barry Manilow has the current number 1 album. My point is made.

This year’s contestants include a set of twins named Terrell and Darell Brittenum. It is to them that the “hissy” comment was directed. And Simon (of whom I am no fan) was exactly right. They are hissy fits on legs. Last night one of them freaked and “quit” when he thought his brother had been cut. They’re constantly asking if they can say something and then going on and on and on about how the competition is crushing their souls.

Now here’s a thing, the current Idol stuff was taped in the fall. One of them is currently in jail and the other is facing extradition for stealing someone else’s identity and buying a Dodge Magnum. Now I like the new Chrysler muscle badboy cars as much as the next girl, but why not go for the 300M?

It all makes Frenchie Davis (she of the huge boobs) pecadillo seem minor.

It’s probably time, truth be told, to stop paying attention to reality tv “stars” but Project Runway is on tonight and I have high (silly) hopes that Santino may get kicked off. Why do I care? Well, he’s pitched too many hissy fits.

Oh, and one note to TV fans, the “Scar” episode of Battlestar Galactica was unbelievably good. Get it from itunes. Katee Sackhoff–sexy, amazing, a brilliant actress. I say that and Mary McDonnell wasn’t even in the episode much. Her bit at the end of last week’s episode (“Sacrifice”)over Billy’s death and Sackhoff’s speech at the end of “Scar”–why tv is good and human and heartbreaking and worth watching. No hissy fits. So say us all.

Ok, I promise not to keep doing this, but I had a couple more thoughts on the ‘lyms.

First, I’m sorry I was snotty about luge. When I saw that luger sliding down the track unconscious under her sled, I thought better of my “sausage” comments.

Second, I think it’s hilarious that the gold medal winner in women’s halfpipe listened to her ipod during her gold medal run.

Third, Joey Cheek rocks for talking about Sudanese genocide, for donating his money to refugees, for retiring after the lyms, for being rejected by Harvard and telling everybody about it, and for being so pudding cute you could eat him with a spork, even if “hims” aren’t your thing. Plus which his bio at offthepodium.com is hilarious, describing him as being listed in “The Cheek Family Chronicles” as one of the “nine most notable ‘Cheeks’ of all time.” And emphasizing his tendency to puke during practice.

Fourth, the Canada/Sweden curling match this morning was really exciting (for curling). The skip of the Canadian team, a fellow named Brad Gushue (pronounced GOOSHOO) screwed up three times, first the the tenth end (don’t I sound knowledgeable?) allowing Sweden to tie and then again in the eleventh (extra) end. Now, I’m delighted with his name. I gather (from LA Times of all sources) that he’s seen as a bit of a maverick in Cananda, where the vast majority of the world’s curlers reside. I also love the curling commentator for NBC. He’s SOOOO Canadian. Plus is name, Don Dugid, is pronounced “Do good.” GOOSHOO and DOGOOD.

Fifth, I like the beaver named Dodger Lodge on the cbc.ca Olympic site. So very not American.

Being from Atlanta, I am a little sensitive about the criticism leveled at my fair city about having a badly organized Olympics. Atlantans I talk to will say everything went fine. One thing that’s hard to defend from the Atlanta games is the mascot, “Izzy.” It was not cute, not clearly defined and made fun of. Ok, Izzy=very weak. But I challenge anyone to say that the Torino mascots are anything but very very weak. Describing them is hard. Disturbing is the word that comes to mind. And there’s a whole mess of them: Gliz and Neve are the main ones, but they have friends Gelindo Calvo, Viva Kapendo, Jo Care (the most disturbing to me), Koji Kojito, and Jose Bueno. Plus there’s their friend the snowflake. Named Aster. (Could be after Asta the Nick and Nora Charles dog from the Thin Man movies, I dunno). (The snowflake thing doesn’t bother me.) Go look them up. Tell me what you think. But be prepared to be disturbed. Not SAW II disturbed. Worse.

Tomorrow: Not the Olympics.

My Honey and I call the Olympics (sorry the “Olympic Winter Games”) the “lyms.” We have one of those couple-y things with a secret language. It’s not a creepy secret language like those piercing non-English ones I imagine certain twins raised by wolves have. Maybe it is, but at least I can say that it’s a version of English.

Anyway, we’ve been watching the lyms for the past couple of days. As a sports fan, I look forward to them, but I get tense about Tivo (really Tifaux) capacity. I’ve stressed how vigilant we must be, but as a curling fan (really–it’s cool to watch, I promise), I’m putting our hard drive at risk with overnight tapings of the USA feed. It’s a risk I’m going to have to live with because I’m not getting up at 5am to watch curling. Hell, I can’t even get up at 6:45 to work out. Which I should.

I’ve decided that luge is weak. I mean it’s fast, but the best luger EVER is known as the flying sausage. You can’t even tell how fast they’re going. Honey and I were watching the downhill after the luge and they’re going 20 miles an hour slower and look like they could die at any second. Plus there’s the whole business of the lugers needing to be “relaxed” as the announcer kept saying.

I had a weak moment while watching the luge where I hoped out loud that the American would not medal. I get so irritated with the “homer” tone of NBC’s broadcasts that sometimes I don’t want Americans to win. Honey pointed out (rightly so) that she’s an American and if she were ever an Olympian I could and should root for her. The dudeness of the snowboarders suggests, she said, that they may be Democrats. So they’re probably ok. I conceded her point, by which time the American luger’s 4th place position was assured in much the same way that when you start talking about whether somebody is dead or not they die right away after. I feel somewhat responsible in that vein for the deaths of Herve Villechaize and Fay Wray.

A few more random lym thoughts:

The skating guys with flames coming from their heads DID NOT suggest passion to me, no matter what Costas says. Neither did the people in tree outfits or the disembodied legs.

Short track speed skating makes me really nervous. And Apolo Anton Ohno needs an extra “l” in his name.

My honey is right that for a guy who “hates the media” the Bode Miller is more present on my tv than he should be.

I can’t put a finger on why I like how much the Italians like their athletes and why I hate the pro-American NBC coverage. It may be related to Laura Bush. I’m not sure.

One non-Olympic thought:
If Dick Cheney shoot his FRIEND in the face, how can we trust him around bigger guns?

For those of you who aren’t watching the minutiae in the news today, you may have missed this item. Disney/ABC traded Al Michaels, the sportscaster, to NBC (which owns Universal) in exchange for the rights to Oswald the Rabbit.

Yes indeed. A guy was traded for a cartoon character. For those of you who don’t follow the Disney “world,” Oswald was an early creation of Walt Disney and a precursor to Mickey Mouse. Disney created him while working for Universal and they’ve retained the rights all these years, media corporate mergers notwithstanding.

Michaels was planning to do Monday Night Football for ESPN, but for lots of complicated (and boring) reasons, he wants out of his contract with ABC, thus the trade.

Here’s how it went down:

NBC guy: We want Al.

ABC guy: You can’t have him.

NBC: What do you want for him?

ABC: Um, one of Leno’s cars.

NBC: No can do. How about a gross of peacock cups?

ABC: (sigh) Ok, let’s see, how about a successful sitcom. Maybe My Name is Earl?

NBC: Are you kidding? You can have the rights to the unaired episodes of Book of Daniel. Watch out though, the scary Christians will hate you.

ABC: Nah. OK, let’s see how about we give you Chris Berman, the most annoying sportscaster ever?

NBC: You want to give us Berman so that we take Michaels. No way. See we got Keith Olberman already and he’s pretty funny even if he is difficult. Plus he keeps punking O’Reilly, which is pretty nice. Berman would just pun his name. Plus he never shuts up and every senesible person in the world hates him.

ABC: Are you mareketing to sensible people now? No wonder you’re third. Anyway, how about you give us one of your lamer cable channels? USA?

NBC: It is lame, but no. You want the footage of Costas trying to explain the symbolism of the Opening Ceremonies of the Torino Olympics? By the way isn’t “Torino” a cool way to refer to it? ‘Turin” is so pedestrian. That footage is so “right now.”*

ABC: Ok, let’s cut to it. We want the rabbit.

NBC: Rabbit?

ABC: Yeah, the Disney rabbit. All those jokes about how often rabbits procreate–they’re hilarious. Plus which, the Disney people WILL NOT shut up about the rabbit.

NBC: You want to swap the rabbit for Michaels?

ABC: Yep.

NBC: Well, ok. It’s sort of weird.

ABC: OK, throw in some peacock cups too, then if anybody asks it’ll seem less random.

NBC: You got it.

*I know the swap happened before the opening ceremonies, give me a little latitude.

There you have it, the sporkseye view of Hollywood. Come back soon when we will explore other important Hollywood topics like whether Ryan Phillippe is most jealous of wife Reese Witherspoon’s money or talent. And we’ll reveal, through the magic of Scout’s life experience, which “characters” at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood are the skankiest. My money is on Elmo. We’ll see.

Last night I was driving home from puppy school with Biscuit. She’s finished her six sessions and now has a certificate of completion. The certificate is not an acknowledgement of skills, it’s an acknowledgement of showing up. We did show up. Honey and I started calling her “completer” last night.

I was listening to “Says You” on NPR on the way home from puppy school and they were doing lists of “what does it have in common?” “Pea, Walnut, Golf ball, Grapefruit, Softball” was one of the lists. The answer, in case you care, is that the are U.S. Weather Service sizes of hail. I found myself trying to make sure I remembered them correctly. I then had to look up hail sizes on the web. According to the NOAA.GOV web site (that would be the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the uber-agency to the National Weather Service), there are the following hail sizes. Are you ready? You sure?

0.25 inch Pea Size
0.50 inch Mothball Size
0.75 inch (Severe Criteria) Penny Size
0.88 inch Nickel Size
1.00 inch Quarter Size
1.25 inch Half Dollar Size
1.50 inch Walnut or Ping Pong Ball Size
1.75 inch Golf Ball Size
2.00 inch Hen Egg Size
2.50 inch Tennis Ball Size
2.75 inch Baseball Size
3.00 inch Teacup Size
4.00 inch Grapefruit Size
4.50 inch Softball Size

I was relieved to see this chart and its specificity, because I had been worrying about the relative lack of difference between the size of a softball and a grapefruit and the relatively large size difference between a pea and a walnut. It helps me to know that there is a complete list and standards to go along with it.

Of course, then I worry about people being killed by grapefruit sized hail. Sure enough, someone was killed in 2000 by a grapefruit sized piece of hail in Forth Worth, TX. Probably a Republican, but still.

I worry about these kinds of things too much. Give me a topic, prompt an interest and I’ll find out everything I can about it. I file the little factoids away, trot them out at random times, and admire them like pretty little nuggets or hen egg sized pieces of hail.

My mother says that there are two kinds of people in the world: those that tell you everything they know, and those that know way more than they will ever tell you. She is definitely in the former category and my dad in the latter. I like to think I am more like my dad in this way, but suspect the opposite is true.

Lately, I’m trying not to be the busybody know-it-all that I have a tendency to be. Because I’m not teaching now, I don’t have a captive audience for random fact of the day. Therefore, I want to spout them out when I can.

Murphy Brown had a great scene about this whole thing. One of the characters is telling the bartender something (it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, ok? Don’t expect really great scene recreation). The bartender replies, “If I remember that, I’m going to have to let go of Truman’s hat size.” Please don’t remember the hail sizes unless you have room.

I know that facts don’t do you much good unless you have the analytical tools to connect them. I was at a meeting yesterday where a faculty member went on a rant about the chancellor of our system. I know facts about him (the chancellor) and I’ve heard opinions. I was impressed by the provost’s response. He talked for a while and then said, “if the problems we have were really the result of one person, the solution would be fairly simple.” It was as clever and thoughtful a bit of reasoning as I’ve heard in a while. And he’s right, of course.

I’ll probably hold on to the hail sizes for a while. But I’m going to try to figure out how to think about them (and all the other random things) in a more complex way.

I don’t, by the way, know Truman’s hat size and I’m not going to look it up.

Ok, ok, I know EVERYONE is playing poker these days. It’s all so cliched. I learned the play poker from my Dad, who likes to play his law partners. He likes it because he takes their money. I like poker too, though as those of you who read this blog know, I tend to turn pink when I’m excited.

When I started my current job and found that the whole office was a bit poker mad, led by the office manager. The rest of the office often looks to her as a guide for what’s good and right in the world. Her mood sets the office mood. She loves poker and everyone else seemed to fall in line.

Occasionally, we have poker parties at office manager’s house and tonight’s one of them. I go about half the time. The other half the time I beg off or am not invited. It’s sort of like the office Friday lunch. I get invited sometimes but I rarely go. When I do go, I sense that they would have just as soon had me skip it. Honey says I should always make Friday lunch plans. I’m too much of a social goober to do that, but when I do, I am always glad to say that I can’t go. Everyone is so relieved.

A couple of times I’ve been in the final two in the winner take all pot during the poker parties. I’ve never won, however. Inevitably, the person that beat me felt bad about it. It’s not that they feel sorry for me or anything, but I’m the BOSS.

I forget that a lot. People act reluctant to ask for vacation; they defer to me. It can all go to my head. Last week I talked the Assistant Director down from her opinion in the middle of a staff meeting and then realized that I shouldn’t have done it. I apologized to her and am going to try to be more thoughtful about that kind of stuff in the future.

I guess it’s hard to have it both ways. Respect and distance often go hand in hand. I appreciate that they invite me at all, I guess, but wish I were just one of the gang.

I decided to be an academic in part because it struck me as less hierarchical than most jobs. While that is true, I get a little tense around the Dean, a lot tense around the Provost and the President’s presence makes my mouth pasty. I guess I fit somewhere on that food chain and the staff in my office know it, even if I forget it sometimes.

Meanwhile, tonight, I play quietly and carefully and probably lose. And it’s probably best that I do. At least I’m pretty sure they like me enough not to shoot me in the back, even if I have Aces and Eights.

I like craigslist ok for the usual reasons. I bought a Tony Little Gazelle on it. Fine transaction, cheaper than retail by a lot. The guy did insist on my taking the Tony Little videos that came with it. I can’t say I blame him.

I sold an old bike of mine on it. It was poring raining and this German guy drove from Santa Monica to the Valley to buy it. He then got soaking loading it into his car. It was a hideous sea foam green Peugeot U.S. Express I bought on a whim in 1989. I should have kept my 1985 Trek Elance. Honey says I shouldn’t worry about old bikes or dead pets. She’s right. But I can’t help it.

For the most part, I don’t use craigslist the way some people do, looking for jobs or apartments. I like reading the “free” section and the “pets” community board.

Now, the pet board is a whole bizarre thing. It’s supposed to be for people to exchange information about pets (which happens a little), and to post available pets for adoption. It’s a tense place. It throbs with conflict between backyard breeders of animals (or wannabes) and rescue folks, really intense folks.

Every day there is a post or two with the euthanasia lists for the Los Angeles City Shelters. An aside, honey and I have three pets, all adopted from the L.A. City shelters. Calif was gotten from the South L.A. shelter, Halo from the East Valley Shelter, and Biscuit D. Dog is a South L.A. product as well. We helped Slangred and Bryduck pick out Amber at East Valley. And Honey and I plucked “the best cat ever(tm)”–Squeaky–from the West Valley “Sick Pet Room.” I believe in shelters, I have only ever owned rescue dogs and cats in my adult life and have helped friends and family pick out same. My sister-in-law so believes in her Atlanta shelter cat Mambo’s right to platinum care, that she calls the vet during every vacation to remind them that Mambo should get any medical care he needs.

So, anyway, I find the L.A. shelters pretty depressing. They are full of pit bulls and pit bull mixes. I felt very lucky to find Biscuit and would not have gotten her had I waited until a weekend to come in. Honey was one of two people who wanted Calif. I know that pit bulls can be nice dogs. I know. But, here’s how the shelter is described on craigslist (pit bulls=staffies):

“OMG!!! THE BRUTAL SOUTH LA SLAUGHTERHOUSE IS KILLING SO MANY DOGS AGAIN!!! MOST OF THEM ARE BEING KILLED OUT OF SHEER BREED BIGOTRY—THEY LOVE TO KILL OFF NEARLY ALL DOGS LABELED AS STAFFIES AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, GIVING THEM NO CHANCE TO GET ADOPTED, NO MATTER HOW FABULOUS THEY ARE. OTHER DOGS THEY LABEL AS “USE CAUTION” DOGS, AND THEY ARE GIVING OUT THOSE LABELS VERY FREQUENTLY THESE DAYS, AS AN EXCUSE TO KILL DOGS WHO DON’T DESERVE THOSE LABELS AT ALL. NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THE DOGS LISTED BELOW EXHIBITS ANY SIGN OF AGGRESSION, YET THEY ARE CONDEMNED TO DEATH. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THE KILLING!!!”

Then the poster goes on to describe individual dogs. Here’s a typical example:

“THIS IS THE CUTEST, MOST BEAUTIFUL LITTLE ITTY BITTY BORDER COLLIE/STAFFIE, WEIGHING ONLY 32 LBS., AND SO VERY FRIENDLY!!! HE’S JUST STUNNING, WITH SUCH A DAINTY BODY AND THOSE HUGE ERECT EARS. HE’S SUCH A SWEET, INNOCENT BABY, WAY YOUNGER THAN THE AGE LISTED. HE WAS ACTUALLY IMPOUNDED OVER A MONTH AGO, AND PUT INTO THE ANNEX FOR SAFEKEEPING BECAUSE HE’S A TERRIFIC DOG, BUT NOW HE’S BEEN TRANSFERRED TO SOUTH LA, WHICH IS NOT EVEN GIVING HIM A CHANCE TO GET ADOPTED, THEY ARE SO EAGER TO KILL THIS PERFECT LITTLE ANGEL!”

Do I need note that the caps are in the original?

Without getting into the politics of the thing, I want to say that I’m very much in favor of saving dogs and I think this person is probably a good person. Nevertheless, I am worried about the hysteria here. I’ve been to these shelters. These dogs are not that nice. They’re just not. They may be great with A LOT of work at home. They may not.

Biscuit was at the shelter for a day. She’s a handful undoubtedly backyard bred and probably ignored for the first year of her life. I try to work with her. She’s still a lot of dog.

Anyway, if you want to watch human tension, check it out. On the gentler end…

Here’s what’s great about the “free” section:

“I have a cute cat bowl, one vial of advantage for cats (9 lb and up), an ornate glass vase, and a few assorted sealed jams (2 strawberry and 1 apricot).”

Ok, I guessing the cat died and I’m sorry for it. But why throw in the jam? And how is the vase related? And do we have to take all of it?

There are a lot of “clean dirt” ads in the free section.

I liked this one today too.

“We thawed this turkey to cook today for the Super Bowl, but we all woke-up too late to cook it in time (needs approx 5 hrs, unless you deep fry it). So if you want the turkey, you need to come get it before we go over to our friend’s place at about 1:30. Otherwise we are going to have to trash it. ”

It’s really a way to watch people struggle with themselves. What can they not bring themselves to throw away? What do they not want to move? It’s like little existential crises available for everyday. Free!

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