Thursday Hate

First, a little pre-hate…warm up our limbic system here just a bit…and stretch…

Big E and I rode my work route this morning. He’s back in town briefly before heading out on his adventure north to The Great Land, The Last Frontier, Seward’s Folly…what? Oh, sorry…I left at six, picked him up at Montrose and Elston and north we rode…

The North Branch Trail, as you may already know has recently been repaved. It’s quite luxurious with it’s smooth new blacktop and all those old root-bumps taken out. And at 6:30 am it’s a very serene and idyllic way to start an otherwise soul-crushing day spent sitting in a cube in front of this computer screen.

However, along with a newly repaved surface however, comes a downside. Oil spots. And when they are wet, it’s just not a good combination for your bike tires to go over, at any speed. A few weeks ago I nearly wiped out myself as I took a chicane in the trail, just south of Dempster, a little too fast. My rear wheel nearly slid out from under me as I went through the turn too fast and hit one of those oil patches, slick as ice after a rainy night.

So as we rode together this morning, I warned him about it a few times, too early, thinking it was coming up around the next bend. Well, when it finally did happen upon us, I called it out, but he was a bit farther behind me, and as I passed it, I hear the shoulder-cringing trifecta-call of the impending bike crash: skidding tire, brake squeal, “ah FUCK!”…and then the sound of something similar to a tray of silverware being slammed to the counter…followed by an angry “GodDAMMIT!”

Biker down.

Damage was superficial…another raspberry to add to the collection, but the bike was fine. But I hate stupid crashes. They happen way too often. So annoying and all they do is kill your buzz.

We finished our ride and talked about his upcoming trip, and rolled into the Northbrook parking lot just after 7:15.

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Okay…all warmed up? Here comes the real hate:

People who don’t correct their goddamn dogs.

Sorry for the pun, but this is beyond a pet peeve of mine, because, as I am a polite person, I am not going to correct the dog myself right in front of them, nor am I going to ask them too. I’m kind of a passive aggressive person, avoiding conflict all the time on matters such as these – as the culprits are my friends/acquaintances. So it builds up in me and comes out…oh well, at least you can thank that for Thursday Hate.

What kind of correction, you ask? We’ve all had the neighbor with the noisy dog. My neighbor, in particular, has a little dachshund with way more bark than sense. Leroy. His diminutive size makes his schlong look really big by comparison so he must have some sort of big ego about it. He’s constantly yapping at anything that moves, and loves to charge my dog, Kedzie, like he’s some sort of bad-ass, every time he sees her. Except that when she answers, playfully, it’s all retreat and high pitched squealing. What a pussy.

He also hates me when I am geared up for a ride: it’s the helmet and sunglasses. I’ll be headed out to work, and my neighbor will be taking him out…he flips out, barking and snarling, in the hallway at 5:50 in the morning when everyone else in the building is trying to sleep. What does the neighbor do about it?

“Leroy!” in a hushed whisper. “Stop it!”

I wait for a smiting hand to swoop down from above and make contact with his backside, ending his impetuous little tirade, but instead only get, “I swear, Leroy!” And then a patronizing look, with a shake of her head, as if to say, “You understand, it’s out of my control.”

Bullshit. Discipline your fucking dog.

A dog needs a boss, and you are that boss. If you ain’t the Alpha, The dog is gladly going to be, and while you may not give a shit - because you wuv your wittle poochy-woochy - everyone else around you is going to have to suffer the megalomaniacal delusions of your asshole pet.

Swat the dog, spank the dog, and let it know with a big, fat “No!” that what it’s doing is wrong, and do it immediately. There should be no confusion on his part that it should stop doing what it’s not supposed to do.

GODDAMMIT I hate it when people just stand there while their fucking dog barks its fucking head off.

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Post hate: when two people end a phone conversation in unison, with: “Thanks…you too…bye!”