Damn, it's cold here. 

My little Firefox weather plugin is just mocking me.

"Now: Sunny, 9F" with a little picture of a sun.

It should say:

"Snot: Frozen, 9F-in' degrees" with a little picture of an ice cube.

  Puba in her bed 
  Originally uploaded by ceonyc.

My dad just called.  We had to put our family dog, Puba, to sleep.  I'm going to go for a walk or something soon, but for now, I'll post.  I just put up a Flickr badge on the right with Puba photos as a little blog memorial.  Feel free to trackback or comment with your little pet stories or whatever if you'd like.

We had Puba for 14 1/2 years.  She was a bichon-frise (white fluffy ball of fluff) and she was the best dog ever... hands down.  I've never met another living thing that loved to be loved as much as this dog did.  She'd lay on her back and let you rub her tummy for an hour.

Originally, I wanted a rabbit.  Brian's dad raised rabbits and it seemed like rabbits would make cool pets.  Of course, I really wanted a dog, so by asking for something ridiculous like a rabbit, I got a dog.  We got Puba from a private owner in Staten Island named Bob Amato.  Maybe he'll Google himself or Google Puba and we'll find out, because we probably don't have their contact info and I'm sure they'd want to know.  Puba was about six weeks old when we got her, and she was the runt of the litter.  Her mother had abandoned her and the Amato's had to bottle feed the dog and she almost didn't make it on her own.  A few weeks after we got her, they called us up and offered us a new dog plus $1000, because they missed her.  My dad was ready to take the deal...   funny how yesterday, he was thinking about how different and sad his mornings will be now, because he spends so much time with the dog in the morning when my mom's at work.  Of course, it wasn't long after that he good hooked on her, too.  I think letting the dog lick his face was pretty much the turning point... plus the few grand he needed to put down to get the dog cataract surgery.

She had cataracts before she even turned six months old. In fact, she was kind of a lemon.  She had a small trachea, too...  they all do, so she'd choke sometimes.  She also had two ACL surgeries (you'd think she would be doing more than sleeping and eating to sustain such injuries), a skin allergy, and an overbite.  Three months ago, she fell down our basement steps.  She also fell down the front steps, too, when she was younger.  And stepped on?  Oh, I'm sure we've stepped on her a hundred times.  She didn't know any commands.  My mom swears she knew "stay" but I think it was just pure laziness.  Sometimes, she'd sit for a cookie... but only for a cookie.  She'd also require a cookie to do her business in the backyard.  I wish someone gave me a cookie every time I had to do my business.

She loved my grandmother, too... she'd wet herself as soon as she came in.  (The dog, not Nana, although Nana got pretty excited, too.)  Yeah... the bladder didn't work too well either.  One time, my parents were away and I was dog-sitting.  She wouldn't climb stairs... only fall down them, so she sat at the foot of the stairs and whined for me to come down.  I dragged my blanket down and went to bed on the couch with her so she wouldn't be lonely.  It wasn't too long before I felt warm and wet...   I suppose my blanket didn't have her scent, so she need to make it her own.  Some thanks.

I never fed her from the table, though, but I'd always give her unsolicited food at random times, so she wouldn't learn to beg rudely.  She liked grapes and she'd like a plate of leftover omelet for an hour.

My parents are pretty crushed... obviously they spend more time with her after I went to school and moved out.  In fact, I'm pretty sure they love the dog more than the love me, but then again, the dog probably has a better disposition than I do anyway.

So that's it.  Puba died...   I guess there isn't much more to say.

Oh wait... actually, there's one more thing.  When she was younger, she'd run around the house like a wild woman if you riled her up.  She'd run in circles and behind our couch (the day she got too big to do that she got stuck back there) and then through the fabric skirt and under our couch in the porch.  Then, we got a new couch that went all the way to the floor and that was a surprise to her as well, but a lesson learned quite quickly.  Its going to be really quiet in my parents house now.

Right now, it's 6:37AM in New York.  The skies are party cloudy and it's nine degrees.

That's right. 

Nine.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...

Welcome to snot freezing on the inside of my nose weather.

I made myself a chicken parm sandwich to eat for dinner at work, but of course, I forgot it in the fridge on my way out. So, when I showed up at Track 103 to take the train up to Fordham with two minutes to spare, I got hungry. Panini stand right across from the track. Sah-weet. Dude, you got about a minute and a half to get me a panini. Go pay now, he says, and I'll get it to you. Pay...pay...shoot...four bucks on me. Credit card. Well, the woman behind the counter totally dropped the ball on the credit card machine. Fumbleruski. Fumblaya. Final seconds ticking down. Sorry, gotta bag it. Abort! Abort! Just get me the credit card back. Dropped the panini and bolted. Shoot...train leaving. I ran up to it anyway. By the back door, the ticket taker gave me the nothing I can do but shrug like a doofus look. Damn you..its still 5:37!!

Enter the pretty girl. Man, sometimes, I wish I was a hot girl. Ok, so we can pee standing up, so we've got that going for us, but being an attractive female is like having the Force.

*Waves hand*

You will check out my legs and open the door for us.

I think I'll check out your legs and then open the door for you, despite previously shrugging off the bald guy.

I wish I had that panini...or my sandwich.

I got interviewed for the inaugural issue of You24, which is a magazine for 24Hour Fitness clubs.  My article comes right before Lance Armstrong, on Page 36, and in an amazing coincidence, right next to a fullpage Jamba ad.

So this morning, despite the fact that my alarm is set to 6:45, I don't wake up until 8:30.  Fine, no gym.  Oh, but now I have to rush a little because the car is on the wrong side of the street and I have to move it by 9:30.  No prob.  Comb my hair and grab my hat... out the door in seconds flat.  (Its a Beatles line...I have neither hair nor a hat.)
Checking the car as I always do before getting in, I notice that the back left tire is really low.  Strange..didn't notice that before.  So I drove to the gas station to get some air.  Pretty much right at the moment that I realize the tire wasn't really reinflating was when I noticed the stab wounds.  Some fucker (or fuckers) put four half inch holes in my vinyl top, directly above the tire.  Goddammit.  Why you gotta mess with a man's ride?  Oh, by the way, did I mention I jammed my thumb badly at last night's dodgeball game.  (We swept all four games for those of you keeping score at home.)  Do you know how hard it is to change a tire with no right thumb?  Functioning opposable thumbs are a critical component of the tire changing process, particularly since the jack that Ford provides was ergonomically designed to be a cruel practical joke.  Throw on top of that the ridiculous amount of softball equipment I usually keep in my trunk, making access to the donut quite the exercise in one thumbed unpacking.  I got the tire, which on the Mustang, of course, is heavy and fat off, but not before playing wheel lock adapter scavenger hunt inside the car.  An examination of the tire pinpointed the last and most devistating of the half inch stab wounds inflicted on my car. 

Now its 10:42 and I'm on the Manhattan bring, transmitting this post from Typepad Mobile, finally on my way.  Do you know how badly I would have liked to catch the assholes who did this?  Note to self...store tire iron in winter coat.  My thumb hurts from thumbing this, too.

I'll deal with the donut and new tire over the weekend.  For now, its parked.  Who stabs cars in Bay Ridge?

I case you didn't notice, it snowed this morning in NYC.

I'm sitting outside Joe's Pub waiting for my friend Alicia. We know each other from when I was a sophomore in high school and I did Oklahoma at her school. That was a great way to meet girls when you went to single sex high schools...doing plays. They always needed guys at the girls schools and you really didn't have to be that good. Anyway, I don't even know what I'm seeing or what we're here for. I totally didn't read the email. I just know where I'm supposed to be and what time. I do know I'm getting fed, though, which is great because I'm eating for the first time today in days. Because of that damn Bread (Bacteria) Factory chicken sandwich last Thursday, all I had to eat in three days was a pork chop and two bagels and none of it took. (eww...I know) I dropped seven pounds, but today, I'm all better. In fact, its a good excuse to have a peanut butter moo'd at Jamba tomorrow now that I think of it. I did, however, play dodgeball on Sunday, despite my illness, and played quite well. I signed up for a Sunday team as an individual since my knee is bothering me and I can't really bike, so I needed another activity to make up for it. Twenty seven and I'm falling apart! Don't baseball players peak at 27? Two minutes to go... no Alicia. I'm surprised she's not early. Hmm... now I'm just sort of filling time. Oh, hey, get this. I found MySpace to be a great recruiting tool today for that social media instigator job. I searched by industy, age, and location and found a lot of socially savvy candidates that I contacted directly. Here's a question. Is it sexist to believe that women generally have more influence in online social networks than men? I feel like most of the female profiles I see, with the exception of artists and musicians, have a lot more friends and comments than guys. Am I sitting in the right place? Is there a different entrance somewhere else? She just called... "Just wanted to make sure you're not inside..." :)