My Latest Brush with Greatness
So last night, I'm taking the dog for a walk around the block. We round the corner from Becher onto The Ridgeway and moving very slowly towards us is one of those hummernormous SUV-type stretch-limos. About the length of my house times two.
I did what I always do when I see an extra special limo - and yelled out "Flaunt it baby!, Flaunt it while ya got it!" Just like Max Bieldestock in 'The Producers.'
It's not everyday you see a limo like that. I mean it's not prom season yet. So I'm wondering - just what big-name music star would be in town tonight to merit a limo that size?
Then it hit me - OZZIE OSBOURNE!!! Father of Jack!
That's why the limo slowed down when they saw us coming. I've only seen one episode of 'The Osbournes.' But it was the one where they have all these big dogs and they all seem to be crapping inside the house.
Now, I should point out that my dog, 'Rover' is a Great Dane. And as a lover of big dogs, it was only natural that OZ would be admiring him thru the window.
So me and Rover headed back towards the corner because the limo was just sitting there. I was going to ask OZ for some dog advice. Because Rover is now in very advanced years and periodically (like every other day,) has been losing control of his bowels and shitting in the house.
Surely the OZ-man could relate and would know what to do about it.
But then I realized, if Ozzie did get out and have a good look at the dog, he would probably start rambling on and on and it's hard enough to interpret Ozzie in the first place let alone what he's mumbling excitedly about meeting a Great Dane. Especially one who now shares the same toilet habits as his own four-legged beasts.
So I just gave one of those devil hand-salutes that all the young heavy-metal heads do at rock concerts - and let the limo slowly pull away. Ozzie's nose, no doubt, pressed against the window.
Because no matter how much I might have learned about big dogs shitting on the carpet, there was a bigger thing at stake here. There were 10,000 Black Sabbath fans anxiously waiting downtown for Ozzie. Sometimes these people riot if the band is a no-show. It would have been selfish for me to hold them up just to shoot the dog-shit with the OZmeister.
Because the bottom line is, the Rock HAS to Roll.
So instead, I went home and listened to 'Paranoid.' About twenty times.
... And that's how I saved the Black Sabbath concert in London.
I did what I always do when I see an extra special limo - and yelled out "Flaunt it baby!, Flaunt it while ya got it!" Just like Max Bieldestock in 'The Producers.'
It's not everyday you see a limo like that. I mean it's not prom season yet. So I'm wondering - just what big-name music star would be in town tonight to merit a limo that size?
Then it hit me - OZZIE OSBOURNE!!! Father of Jack!
That's why the limo slowed down when they saw us coming. I've only seen one episode of 'The Osbournes.' But it was the one where they have all these big dogs and they all seem to be crapping inside the house.
Now, I should point out that my dog, 'Rover' is a Great Dane. And as a lover of big dogs, it was only natural that OZ would be admiring him thru the window.
So me and Rover headed back towards the corner because the limo was just sitting there. I was going to ask OZ for some dog advice. Because Rover is now in very advanced years and periodically (like every other day,) has been losing control of his bowels and shitting in the house.
Surely the OZ-man could relate and would know what to do about it.
But then I realized, if Ozzie did get out and have a good look at the dog, he would probably start rambling on and on and it's hard enough to interpret Ozzie in the first place let alone what he's mumbling excitedly about meeting a Great Dane. Especially one who now shares the same toilet habits as his own four-legged beasts.
So I just gave one of those devil hand-salutes that all the young heavy-metal heads do at rock concerts - and let the limo slowly pull away. Ozzie's nose, no doubt, pressed against the window.
Because no matter how much I might have learned about big dogs shitting on the carpet, there was a bigger thing at stake here. There were 10,000 Black Sabbath fans anxiously waiting downtown for Ozzie. Sometimes these people riot if the band is a no-show. It would have been selfish for me to hold them up just to shoot the dog-shit with the OZmeister.
Because the bottom line is, the Rock HAS to Roll.
So instead, I went home and listened to 'Paranoid.' About twenty times.
... And that's how I saved the Black Sabbath concert in London.
posted by Sonny Drysdale at 2:17 AM
10 Comments:
Sonny, I got a dog now, his name is McDuff. He is a little dog, a west highland terrier. He is soooooooooo damn cute. I was going to get a big dog, never had a purse dog before. I just saw him and knew he was the dog for me.
I had a friend tell me about these puppy pads that you can buy, so they don't whizz all over the house. There is something in them that attracts the puppies to them, to do their business on. So far so good, no accidents.
I haven't had a dog for years, and forgot how much fun they are.
He likes going on the leash now, so I am taking him down to the dog park soon to show him off. McDuff has a little red sweater and a hat that a friend made for him. Someone told me they have a little dog area. I am afraid the big dogs might eat him.
I avoid the dog parks. I just assume some idiot will show up with a pack of pit bulls.
I've taken my brother's dog to the dogpark, since my cats aren't too thrilled with the idea.
Last time I was there, I watched a man let his dog loose, then he pulled out a book and went and sat up against at tree to read.
I thought about that. A tree. In a dog park. First tree in, actually. It would be the last thing I'd be leaning up against.
Then a golden retriever ran up to the tree. "Here we go!" I thought. Shower time! But it was even better--the dog squatted, and nature took it's course.
The reader? Looked up in fury at the dog, got up and stormed away.
True story.
PREDICTION: First full moon Honey Pot gives ol' McDuff the microwave treatment then blames it on an intruder.
Kid - serves the guy right. Reading? And one of those book things?
I've taken my neighbour's dog to the dog park. But I always feel like a fraud - like people are looking at me and they just *know* it's not my dog. I don't get invited to stand in those cliquey little scrums cupping my large double-double with the other dog people. It's like high school all over again - except now I *do* own a pair of Levi's.
But at least I'm not dumb enough to sit under a tree with a book - which is made from paper which grows on....what? You see where I'm going with this, right?
Barry, not only are you a disgusting creep, but a real sick one.
Crazy - you can't get much more high-school clicky than the Wortley Village Mutt Club that congregates in the vicinity of the Red Roaster.
Just try showing up with a pet ferret in that crowd.
I've seen that club. Nauseating.
Honey Pot Sugar Scoop calls Butch a Sicko
Honey Pot, being call a creep and a sicko by you is like being called a "menace to society" by Adolph Hitler and Benito Mussolini.
Thank ya, thank ya very much, for the kudos.
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