Oh, Good Grief...

So I did the early show at Gotham this past Friday night (went lousy, thanks... I'm in my first slump since, well, since I started getting decent) and mom came, along with Deeanna, her friend Roy, and Josie.

Deeanna's live-in boyfriend, Ronnie, is a drummer. He couldn't make it cause he had a gig. After the show, we're outside talking about how Ronnie travels sometimes for work. Mom said (and no, i'm not joking)... "You know he's probably cheating on you."
"Mom!"
"Well, he is...that's how musicians are."
"Oh, good grief." I felt a weird sensation in my stomach as I could actually sense the lining peel away.

Rock On,

Aitch

Mail Dude Strikes Again

Got into a discussion about an upcoming pro-wrestling match with the mail dude. I told him that I thought The Undertaker would lose...he responded, without a trace of irony mind you, "I don't think so...you can't kill something that's already dead."

We stared at each other for thirty seconds, before I answered, "You're right...I'm an idiot."

please shoot me.

Rock on (or don't... see if I care),

Aitch

Awww, C'mon! It's a Joooooke!!!

Had a date last night with a girl who does social work for abused women...guess that rules out my favorite role-playing game.

On the bright side, I assume she'll know what not to say so I don't feel urge to smack her.

Rock On,

Aitch

I Almost Punched Out A 90 Year Old Man

So my dog run has two sides...one for lil dogs, and one for big ones. For the last couple of days, they've been fixing the big dog part, so it's been closed. There is a sign at the front gate, informing big dog owners that there's another run about a block away. But yesterday, when I brought Stewie to the run in the morning, there was a big dog in the small run (and no other dogs). When I opened the gate, Stewie growled at him.

As many of y'all know by now, I'm a bit of a lunatic when it comes to my dog, so I spotted the owner, a guy who may've fought in the Civil War, I tersely said, "Ya know, ya not supposed to be in here with big dogs."

He responded, "I'll go wherever the fuck I want."

It was on.

"What?!?" I practically shrieked, "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me!!" I followed him as he started back to the bench he was sitting on.

"You heard me!" He replied over his shoulder.

"This isn't your fuckin' run!"

"Quit fuckin' following me!" He answered, sitting down.

"I can go wherever the fuck I want! Sound familiar?!?"

"I'll get the cops!"

"Go ahead. Get the fuckin' cops. Please do!" He was seated and I was standing over him.

"Keep this up and I'll kick your fuckin' dog!"

"Go ahead. Try to kick my dog... I fuckin' DARE you!"

"Just get away from me! What are you, some sort of fag?"

"Yeah, I'm a fag."

Eventually, he shut up and I retreated to a bench on the other side.

Then he got up and started again.

"Oh, look at me, a fag with my little faggy dog," he squealed in a high pitched voice, while prancing around with one hand floppy (the International symbol for gaayness). He obviously figured that would push my buttons, but watching this 90-year-old guy skipping back and forth in the dog run for a minute, I only wished I had a video camera. He continued to try to bait me, asking me if I wanted to kiss him, etc, but I could no longer take him seriously.

His dog, who was laying down the entire time, limped over to me. I petted him. Stewie then brought him the ball that I was tossing to him.

After a couple of minutes, the guy walked up to me.

"Sorry, I'm sorry about all that. You can't take me seriously, I'm insane."

"That's all right. I was wrong too."

"I gotta go, but I'm Jeremy."

"Harris."

"Nice to meet you.. take care."

And then Jeremy left.

If this was a TV show, there'd be a voiceover in the end with the narrator saying something like, "Women sometimes derogatorily refer to men as dogs, but in light of today, maybe they should rethink their metaphors."

Rock On,

Aitch

btw - I wish this wasn't a true story... but it's not even exaggerated at all. The lesson is threaten my dog at your own peril...and I'm insane.