Bevvy G

Now, I honestly can’t say I’ve been waiting for this day, or to make this joke…

But, as I like to say… 

If the shoe fits, I’mma lace that bitch up and wear it.

(check out the 1:42 mark, specifically)

YouTube credit: Movieclips

-Bev

*Edited to fix technical issue with video- shoutout, Petunia Smalls.

It’s no secret here (or anywhere) that Bevvy G hates dogs. Like, for real, hates. This is a loaded hatred. It’s not easy to live with…

For starters, when you hate dogs, people hate you. When you meet someone new, and tell them you dislike dogs (even if you don’t use the H word), they assume that you must be some kind of sociopathic, homicidal maniac. I’m sorry, but stand. the hell. down. You don’t know me. For all you know, I could donate thousands to charities dedicated to getting clean water to underdeveloped countries. Maybe, instead of vacations, I take mission trips to build homes for those in need. It’s possible that I am the kind of person who gives money to the people begging for it on the corner. What if my life’s work has been dedicated to teaching impoverished kids in rough neighborhoods? You don’t know whether or not I have taken unpaid leaves from my job to work with the Red Cross after a natural disaster occurs. Now, to be fair, I certainly don’t do all of those things, but these Judgie McJudgersons don’t know that. They know that I could. not. give. less. of. a. shit. to see pictures of their new puppy¹, and therefore, write me off as a terrorist.

Second, here’s a public service announcement for you all:

You don’t get to choose what you like and don’t like.

I mean, if we could, wouldn’t we all choose to just love chicken breasts and broccoli, and absolutely abhor burgers and fries? Like, I’m sorry that I naturally, innately, want to vomit when I watch you pick up your dog’s poop and put it into a bag. I am absolutely not kidding when I tell you that if I think about that for long enough, I could probably make myself throw up (new weight loss program?). Thinking about holding warm dog poop in my hand, shielded only by a thin layer of plastic, is enough to send me over the edge. But, back to my point… think about something you don’t like. Brussels sprouts? Olives? Now, pretend that you meet someone at a bar, and somehow, it’s brought up that you don’t like Brussels sprouts, and everyone at the table looks at you like you just stabbed the waiter, and then asking you anywhere from 5-15 questions about why you don’t like Brussels sprouts. “Did you have a bad experience with Brussels sprouts when you were young?” “Have Brussels sprouts ever attacked you?” “Did you have Brussels sprouts as a kid?” “Do your parents like Brussels sprouts?” “Would you ever date someone who eats Brussels sprouts?” And then you just sit there, trying to be nice, because these people already think you’re a jihadist. My personal favorite of the ‘Why don’t you like dogs grill session’ is, “You grew up on a farm and you don’t like dogs?” Yes. Like, I don’t know what the hell you want me to say, people. I mean, “You grew up with a garden, and you don’t like Brussels sprouts?” You lunatic.

But, you know what I’m learning as I get older? I don’t hate dogs as much as I hate dog owners. Some dog owners, that is. Some dog owners are totally cool. My best friend owns a dog. And I don’t hate that dog. I don’t hate that dog’s owner. Because that dog owner is sane and stays in her lane. Listen, people, you can do whatever the hell you want with your dog in private. Kiss it. Lick it. Let it lick you. Touch its poop without a plastic bag. Smell its breath. Sleep with it. Talk to it like it’s a human. Share spaghetti with it à la Lady and the Tramp. Whatever. But when it comes to public places, know your role. If you don’t, here are some basic ground rules.

*Keep your dog away from other people’s food. Period. This includes grocery stores, restaurants, etc. I mean, I can’t be on my cell phone and order a bagel at my favorite spot, but you can bring your 100 pound soaking wet/snow-covered dog into a coffee shop and let it bark at anyone and everyone who comes near it? Oh, yes, it’s a “therapy dog”- more on that in a moment.

*Keep your dog away from children, unless the child and its parent approach you. Yes, we all know that your dog would never attack or bite. Not your precious pet. Look, Ace Ventura- did your dog wake up this morning and tell you how much he loves kids, and that if he sees a kid in a stroller at the farmers market², that he’s not going to try to eat the fresh, locally-grown, organic snack out of that kid’s hand or mouth (possibly injuring the child in the process) because it looks and smells delicious? I didn’t think so.

*Business or pleasure? Look, people. I totally understand that sometimes dogs are a necessity. I get it. And I can totally deal with it. If there is someone near me who actually needs a dog to function in daily life, I can deal with that dog being in the grocery store. Bring that pooch into this restaurant, sir. Hell, I would let that dog in my house (I would have to have a steady buzz, but I would do it). Allow me to tell you a story that really chaps my ass.. I once rode on a plane with a man who had a ‘service dog’ of some type. I (obviously) didn’t sit next to him, but I heard him telling the person next to him how he didn’t really need the dog, but that he had gotten it ‘certified’ (?) so that he didn’t have to board it or whatever. Now, I don’t know how true this is, or if it’s possible, but dude seemed to know what he was talking about, and the chick on the receiving end of that information sure seemed like she was going to do the same so she could travel with her furball for her next trip. There is a special place in hell for people who do this.

*Don’t assume I like your dog, or want to pet it, or let it get within five feet of me. Maybe I’m allergic. Maybe I’m scared. Maybe I once watched a big dog literally kill a small dog. Maybe my childhood friend’s sister got mauled and killed by a dog. Maybe none of these things have happened to me, but all of those things have happened to people I know. Maybe I just don’t want your dog to come smell my crotch and get dog slobber or hair on my clean black pants. That’s me. Now, if we are in a canine zone (pet store, dog park, dog obedience class), that is a different story. You can make different assumptions about people who are there with you than you can about people walking down the street.

*Keep your dog on a leash in public. See above, but also, I can and will kick your dog if it comes up and tries to sniff me, bite my ankles, any other bullshit dogs like to do (if it’s small dog, that is. I ain’t messin’ with your big dog, but I might kick you). If your dog jumps on my car and scratches it with its claws, I reserve the right to call 911 and press vandalism charges against you if that’s possible (this happened to me recently, and if I had a newer car, I most certainly would’ve contacted the authorities. I am not kidding). Where I come from, dogs get shot for being in the wrong place. Know. Your. Role.

To make a long story short… It is your right to own and love a dog. I respect that. I need to you to know that it is just as much my right not to own or love a dog. And I need you to respect that.

OK, I’m stepping off my soapbox, because there’s no champagne up here. 

-Beverly TotallyPreparedToLoseFollowersForThisOne Goldenstein

¹If said puppy is in costume, pictures welcome. Obviously.

²I did extensive research on the use of an apostrophe in farmers market, and I see the argument for both a) farmers market and b) farmers’ market. I mean, farmers is plural, so a could work, but do these farmers own the market, necessitating the apostrophe in farmers’ market? I don’t know. Let’s just focus on the task at hand here. Which is you keeping your damn dog away from me.

We all have those one or two drinks that kinda kill us, right? Like, maybe, for at least three years, whenever you tasted Sunny Delight, you tasted Crown Royal, and wanted to die? Which sucked because you were like 18, and your 92-year-old great grandma always had Sunny D and insisted you have a glass? That happened to one of my friends, man. I heard it sucked.

Kinda like how it sucked when she was a senior in high school, and drinking Fuzzy Navels was kinda cool, and went to visit her friends, Trish and Liza at college. Everything was going well until my friend got in the shower and used Trish’s peach-scented shaving cream and almost projectile vomited on her shower caddy (remember being in college and using a shower caddy?). 

Yeah, well, let’s just say, Bev tried coconut-flavored LaCroix today (Spring Break Half Detox and all…) and almost went into convulsions at the office. I was immediately transported to 2002, in my college bar, drinking , and listening to this song:

YouTube credit: JaggedEdgeVEVO

Also, this happens to other people, right? Tasting alcohol when you aren’t drinking? Someone just say yes.

-Bev

P.S.- I don’t remember a specific incident with one Fuzzy Navel, but I sure do remember the SunnyD/Crown Royal situation, and it is another post for another day. I mean, my friend. My friend can’t remember.

As I was leaving the gym today, some bitch almost clipped me, because she was cutting the corner, and I immediately yelled, “You corner-cuttin’ sonofabitch!” which is one of Smoke Goldenstein’s special driving phrases. The man has some pretty great one-liners, and has been known to curse on occasion, but he has three phrases that are somehow (I’m pretty sure not purposely) reserved solely for driving: 

-corner-cuttin’ sonofabitch
-jiggleass
-dippleass

I know I have a Facebook post from way back of his commentary when driving in a midsized city after picking me up at the airport, so I’ll see if I can find that, but in the meantime, I forgot I had a little gem saved in my phone from Smoke and MamaG’s last visit to MyCity. If you remember, Bev wasn’t feeling well that visit, so it was pretty lowkey, and a fair amount of time was spent relaxing in my apartment. Which means ‘Keeping Up With The Kardashians’ was on TV. And, let me tell ya, if there’s one person in this world you want to watch that shit alongside, it’s Smoke motha-effin’ G, man. Here’s a taste of what I could slyly get typed into my phone as he narrated…

“Them Kardashians got hellish eyebrows don’t they?” (about a minute later, under his breath)… “Must take a lot of fertilizer.”

(MamaG asks how I’m feeling… I answer something along the lines of ‘not great’)… “It could be worse; you could be that dumb heifer.” (dumb heifer= Kris Jenner)

“Lips and boobs. That’s what them girls are all about.”

“What are they eating?”
“Churros.” -me
“Who?”

“Do they live in Paris?”

“And she’s a Kardashian but she has white hair?”
“Briefly.” -me
“Oh, you’re full of shit up to your ears.”

So, yeah, I know most people hate watching that show, but if you ever get a chance to watch with Smoke, jump on it. Same goes for riding in cabs. Put Smoke in shotgun for optimal results. 

-Beverly

Six days post spring break, and I’m six days into a quasi-dryout. I wish dryout meant, like, I could run my liver through the dishwasher, throw that bad boy on a paper towel, and call it good, but we’re talking a little more than that. In these six days, I’ve had two glasses of champagne. Two. This means that I’ve also been consuming actual fruits and vegetables, drinking water, and spending my time GSD… getting shit done.

I’ve got workouts and clean laundry aplenty.

I’ve got food prepped and packaged galore.

You want projects done?

I’m your woman.

But who cares, no big deal, 

I want beer…..

Like, what do you sober people do all the time? I’ve watched two movies in the last two days (if you know my A.D.D. ass, this is like a record). My house is pretty damn clean. That thing I’ve been meaning to hang above my bed for weeks? It’s up. The tools I’ve been meaning to carry in from my car since the battery incident? Stored where they belong. Six workouts in the past seven days, clean sheets, clean clothes, clean dishes, clean Bev. Man, this is weird.

Of course, I still have some projects upcoming- vacuum out dat car, Bevvy. Scrub those baseboards, girl. Clean. out. that. closet. But then… ?

I guess there are people who have… like, hobbies, huh? Can someone suggest a hobby? That doesn’t involve booze or unhealthy food?

I didn’t think so.

-Bev

P.S.- for realsies, if any of you know how Bev can access Homeland, Season 5 easily/cheaply, she’ll spot ya a few Silver Bullets next time you see her. And, if you can suggest a (dry, healthy) hobby she actually likes, I’m sure MamaG (and Bev’s liver, bank account, and overall well-being) would be forever indebted.