Pancake City

My most recent venture into supplication was at traffic court today. You see, a few months ago, a mysterious, evil force seized my leg and pressed it down on the accelerator as the light was turning red. At that same time, a mother was pushing a baby carriage along the crosswalk. Which I didn’t care about. But then I saw that she had an adorable Golden Retriever with her, so I jerked the wheel right, jumped the curb and flipped over right before I crashed into a produce stand that came out of nowhere, presumably put there by the same evil force, or his less creative, Hollywood brother.

The police officer was unperturbed by the destroyed produce stand or the flying chickens that burst out of it, but she was furious when, as my car was flying upside down in the air, she saw that I hadn’t washed the grease-smeared undercarriage in several years. She gave me a ticket for dirty driving and a summons for a court date, today.

I was nervous about appearing before the judge. In the preamble, she said we could plead one of three ways: not guilty, guilty, and guilty with an explanation. I did not hear “I didn’t do it”. This threw me off my game plan. I evaluated the options at hand:

“not guilty” : Close to “I didn’t do it.” Will consider.
“guilty” : “I did it.” ??? What’s the point of going to court if you’re going to fold before the game?
“guilty with an explanation”–Whine your way to success.

I went with whining. Normally, I don’t like whining, but I was wearing a suit, and you can do anything in a suit. It’s true. Before the court opened, I stood outside and timed people on how long they would hold the door for me. When they were about to give up and enter the courthouse, I would clear my throat and say, “Excuse me. I’m still wearing a suit.” Which was funny, because it’s true. I WAS wearing a suit.

The whining didn’t go well at first. I started complaining about how I don’t like my job, my life is going nowhere, my passive-aggressive roommate puts my glasses on the top shelf where they are difficult to reach… But once I focused my whining on the ticket, my layers of excuses stacked upon each other like a tower of butter-topped pancakes, until they eventually toppled and crushed her in a metaphorical avalanche of deliciousness.

I ended up just having to pay the court fee, which is $350, so it was a pyrrhic victory, especially considering that I was so enraged with the high court costs that later that night, I poured gasoline along the court perimeter and burned the court down. Where you gonna prosecute me NOW? This is why Tom DeLay rocks. I called him up beforehand and he gave me the suggestion. That guy is awesome at destroying stuff, like courts and codes of ethics. When I grow up, I want to be like Tom DeLay, except with two testicles (Washington secret. Keep it on the hush hush. If Lloyd Grove gets wind of this, I’m toast.)

Shaaaaaaaaa…zam!

Is there anything useful to do with old magazines besides recycle them? Should I put on a white beard, stuff them in a red sack, and visit crowded doctor’s offices around Virginia? “Ho ho ho, everybody! It’s Magazine Claus. Here, have an Utne Reader.”

My friend, Kate, sensing a power vacuum in the dark side of the Force, decided to appoint herself Lord of the Sith. Hey, the position is free, so why not take it? You can read about her journey to become an all-consuming force of evil while still wearing makeup on her blog.

I work for a dog walking company that has a “Pet of the Month” contest. Until recently, it was more rigged than an election in a banana republic.

But to what will soon be the owner’s utter dismay, she started letting dog walkers explain why people should vote for his or her nominee. Here’s my entry:

***
I would like to nominate Sophie and Noel for Pets of the Month.

Sophie is a golden retriever and the cutest dog ever. This is not an exaggeration. She entered the 2005 National Cute Dog Competition and completely crushed Pickles and Muffin.

Sophie reminds me of a human more than any of my dogs. By that I mean she’s neurotic. When I enter the house, she acts like she has been on a deserted island for the past six months and will absolutely die if I don’t pet her right now. She also has a Kong that she carries with her everywhere. It’s like a baby to her. Well, not exactly. Sometimes she wants me to throw the baby across the field. And it’s made of rubber, and babies are made of something else (feathers?). But in all other aspects, it is like a baby.

Sophie is wonderful with children. Once, we met a little boy who wanted to pet her but was very scared. She sat down and waited for him to feel comfortable. Another time, she met a kid who started teasing her and poking her with a stick. She looked very anxious, but didn’t bark or growl at all. The kid’s parents weren’t around, so I stepped in and, like any responsible adult would do, picked the kid up and put him in a well. That’ll teach him.

Speaking of wells, I have a well of affection for Noel, Sophie’s sister. Noel is a 14-year-old beagle mix. She is very shy around strangers. It took her several weeks to feel comfortable with me, but once she did, we became extremely close. One of my favorite moments as a dog walker is the first time she rolled over and wanted a belly rub.

Noel’s hobbies include pooping and peeing on the carpet. She’s a cosmopolitan dog.

To be serious for a moment, she hasn’t been doing well lately. Her heart arrhythmia has worsened and she has been coughing a lot the past few weeks. I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be around. It would make her very happy to win Pet of the Month before she passes away.

I know. Guilt trip. But it’s true. So please vote for Sophie and Noel. They’re two special dogs who just want to be loved. Unlike that prima donna Pickles.

Shazam.

I was honestly planning on putting all my posts in the comments section for the next month, but self-amusement quickly gave way to inconvenience and readability. Stupid inconvenience. So the new new Pancake City policy is just like the old one, except I will now be ending all of my posts with “Shazam!”

Shazam!

In the comments, in case you don’t want to read it.

(Pancake City Posting Policy Addendum: All responses to comments will be made in the area formerly known as the “post”.)

Hi,

Tina mentioned that one of her professors liked the blog. I thought she was making you up. Once, when one of my friends was over, Tina tried to bring out some embarrassing pictures of me as a child. If you ever want to hear some embarrassing stories about her, just let me know.

I’m sick and tired of posting entries on the main page. From now on, all new posts will be in the comments.

- A picture caption on Page 1 Wednesday incorrectly identified a man on a bicycle as the reputed mob boss Joey “the Clown” Lombardo. In fact, the man’s name is Stanley Swieton and he has no ties to organized crime. A story explaining the mistake is on Page 1 of today’s Metro section.

(from the Chicago Tribune)

Stanley’s name has the connotation of a man who would be very agitated about the mistake.

Do you know what the existence of the word mollycoddle means? That there was someone named Molly who coddled people so much that a word was named after her.

I feel sorry for Molly. She was just trying to please people, and coddling was the only way she knew how to show love. Perhaps the daily birthday parties for her children were overzealous. And the fluffy hair bows. And the personal ponies for the children. But was it really so bad that the townspeople felt it necessary to differentiate between regular coddling and Molly coddling? After she first heard the word, I wonder if she toned down the coddling out of shame, or if the habit was too ingrained in her character.

Appropriating someone’s name is a great way to get revenge. For example:

“You look content.”
“Yeah. I just took a massive Frank in the john.”

It’s been a few months since I’ve read anything beyond magazine articles or essay collections. Does anyone have a recommendation on a good book to read? Fiction or non-fiction, although preferably something I could find at a library.

You don’t need to be a member of Blogger to leave a comment. Just click on “Anonymous” or “Other” (allows you to enter personal info).

“Better to be without food for three days, than tea for one. - Ancient Chinese Proverb.”

That nugget of wisdom is on the back of one of my tea boxes. Methinks the marketing guru who came up with that one was never without food for three days.

And is the “Ancient” really necessary? Are people quoting modern Chinese proverbs? “What happens in China, stays in China. Now get off the Internet.”

If you want to annoy some people, randomly insert “Ancient Chinese Proverb” into your conversations.

FRIEND: “Check out the pecs on that guy.”
YOU: “I’d like to squeeze one of those. Ancient Chinese Proverb.”

MOM: “Are you coming over this weekend? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
YOU: “I wish I could, but I have to work. Ancient Chinese Proverb.”
MOM: “What’s this about the Chinese?”
YOU: “This is why I have to work on the weekends.”

YOU: “Ancient Chinese Proverb. Hello? Anyone there? Boy, I could really use a two-dimensional character to interact with for a line or two. Oh, well. Ancient Chinese Proverb.”

I’m very happy to have been wrong about the Washington Wizards. After being down 0-2, they came back to win four games straight and take their first playoff series in 23 years.

Commentators are already prognosticating about the Wizards chances against Shaq and the Miami Heat. Every time is a second round match-up between a team that has several extra days of rest between its opponent, like the Heat have over the Wizards, a sports analyst is guaranteed to make a version of this comment: “You know, the Heat haven’t played in several days and that can make you rusty. All that time off may be an advantage to the Wizards.”

Yeah, maybe if Shaq’s flight back from the Bahamas is delayed. Or if Dwyane Wade has one too many banana daiquiris before the game. Otherwise, the rest helps. Basketball isn’t like a typical 9-5 job, where after you come back for a week vacation, all you want to do is web browse for the first half of the day.

No one, not even diehard Wizards fans, are giving the Wiz a chance to win the series. With good reason. When Shaq gets mad, he will literally pick up an opposing player and eat him. Sometimes the refs will catch him with a sneaker in his mouth and call a foul, but he is a very good eater and can swallow without chewing. That’s why when Shaq is playing defense, and a forward is backing up into him, trying to get position, Shaq will slowly back up until the other player is near his courtside brick oven.

The Wizards’ coach, Eddie Jordan, will likely send skinny Steve Blake out to Shaq as an appetizer and hope his bones get caught in Shaq’s throat. Juan is safe because he’s a good perimeter player, and he greases his body with oil before the game so Shaq can’t grab him. That’s the difference between an intelligent player and a dumb one (e.g. Chris “Cotton Candy Pockets” Duhon).

* There are certain oft-quoted phrases that have a lyrical quality to them but are bereft of wisdom once you focus on the literal meaning of the phrase. Like “No rest for the weary.” Well, yeah. That’s why they’re weary. Isn’t that like saying “No work for the unemployed?” or “No sex for the guy in the Vulcan ears?”

* The stature of a basketball player is so great that it eclipses whatever humor people would find in an odd name under normal circumstances. Harry Dick could join the NBA, and nobody would laugh at his name as long as he got 20 and 10 during the regular season.

And Magic Johnson? He’s literally saying his penis is magic. That’s a lifetime of ridicule, even among adults, but have you ever heard someone poke fun of his name? Everyone loves Magic Johnson. The WNBA will finally hit the big time when one of their stars is called Special Vagina. “Special Vagina from downtown…IT’S GOOD!”

* “Closed captioning for Malcolm in the Middle is sponsored by…” Is closed captioning so unworthy a task that programs need to be paid to do it? “Closed captioning for Scrubs is sponsored by…no one. Sorry, deaf people.”

* A job can influence how one looks at the world. For example, I’m a dog walker. A lot of people are calling for Paula Abdul to leave American Idol because she allegedly slept with a former contestant. I don’t care if she slept with him. But I think she should be kicked off the show for this:

“He says Abdul advised him on his clothes, haircut and song selection for “American Idol,” and slept with him in the guest bedroom of her Los Angeles home, where he shared space with her dogs Thumbelina, Tulip and Tinker Bell.

What kind of sick person names their dogs Thumbelina, Tulip and Tinker Bell? I’ve walked over a hundred dogs, and still, those are the Three Musketeers of stupid dog names. What’s worse is that I’ll bet at least two of those dogs are males. I hope Tinker Bell pisses all over her sheets.