cindy's world

ANGRY OWNER USES DEAD PUPPY AS A WEAPON
Attacked dog breeder with Chihuahua that had died, police say

Updated: 2:18 p.m. PT June 8, 2006
ST. PETERS, Mo. – A woman angry that her new puppy had died pushed her way into a dog breeder’s home and repeatedly hit her on the head with the dead Chihuahua, authorities said.

The 33-year-old woman told police she had taken the puppy to a veterinarian, who said it was only 4 weeks old and needed to be returned to its mother. But before she could return the puppy, it died.

Early Wednesday, the woman went to the breeder’s home, pushed her way inside and began fighting with the breeder as she tried to make her way to the basement to get another puppy, police said.

The breeder wrestled the woman out of her house to the front porch, where the woman then hit the breeder over the head numerous times with the dead puppy, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported, citing police.

As the woman drove away, she waved the dead puppy out of the car’s sunroof and yelled threats at the breeder, police said. She later called the breeder and threatened her and her family, according to court records.

Police said they are considering felony burglary charges against woman and misdemeanor assault charges.

(Thanks for the e-mail, Vicky. And for the mental pictures.)

I judge the efficacy of my workouts by the patterns on the backs of my clothing when I peel them off in the locker room. If the back of my sports bra has darkened in color, that’s good and I smile. If the lower back of my shirt has a pattern that I call “wings,” that’s even better. The vertical dip along my spine does not make much contact with my shirt, so that part of the fabric usually stays dry. Small hand-sized feathers of sweat fan upward and outward on the lower right and lower left sides of my back from my movement.

Earlier at lunch, my goal was to hit a 4 mile jog. I hadn’t been religious with my jujitsu, running or weight-training in the past couple of weeks. PMS will do that to your spirit. I looked forward to this run, however, because I had finally picked up some AAA batteries for my MP3 player. I started the run at 5.8 mph, and ran effortlessly with the music for 3.25 miles. I wanted to push more throughout this duration, but I was afraid that the excess energy I felt in the beginning would be misleading as to how much energy I had in reserve for later. But with only 3/4 of a mile left to go, I increased the speed to 6 mph (a 10-minute mile). The music jumped to something absolutely inspirational, and I saw the body I had last year at this time in my head, and imagined myself to be running toward achieving that body shape again. At 6.2 mph, I finished 4.5 miles with energy to spare. Never did I pant, never did I feel overwhelmed or bored. Whenever I checked the clock, it was with regret at the speed of the passing time, and never in aggravation that I’d only run for a few minutes that felt like hours. I noted in mid run that I felt good, and the warmth rising from my body felt good, and the rivulets of sweat racing down my chest and back felt good.

In the locker room, I saw that the entire back of my sports bra was wet to the point of wring-able, not that I tried. The diagonal spaces in between the fingers and the vertical space in between the wings on the lower back of my gray shirt had completely filled, so that instead of looking at a small wingspan, I was looking at a heart. What little fabric there is of the back of my thong was soaked through and made almost transparent by my exertion, such that I could not bring myself to put it back on after my shower. I smiled at the V-shaped red lines that ran from either side my neck down to meet in between my breasts, evidence of my MP3 player that I wore around my neck and tucked through my sports bra.

I hope this ability to run harder, faster, and to want to do so stays with me.

I dreamt that after work, I was talking to a couple of coworkers, one of whom told me that another coworker had gotten his teeth whitened at a dental office across the street for really cheap. She encouraged me to go and check it out, ask some questions, maybe set up an appointment. She said the Brite-Smile teeth whitening system normally costs like $3000 (to which I asked whether it was $3K per row of teeth, or $3K total, as if it were a boob job or laser eye surgery), but right now it’s a few hundred dollars on a special. So I walked across the street to a run-down looking dental office. Since it was after work hours, I assumed no dentist would be in, but I asked the receptionist anyway. To my surprise, she nodded and opened an old wooden sliding door to reveal a cluttered standard office, like a paper-pusher’s office, with a female Asian dentist sitting at the paper-laden desk with her head in her arms, presumably asleep. I apologized for intruding, she looked tired but said it’s okay, and then I asked if there were available appointment times. She pulled out a large appointment ledger and wrote me in. Then she took my disposable water bottle and poured some solution in it that I was supposed to rinse with. We chatted about random stuff, such as my noting that a piece of paper with Chinese writing on it sort of looked like my handwriting and had the middle and last character of my Chinese name on it, and I wondered if I’d written it in my childhood and given it to her, like maybe we were friends once upon a time and I didn’t recognize her now. At my request, she cut out the piece of paper, which was taped by the borders onto her binder or something, and turned it over. It was her friend’s note and not mine. Coincidentally, we had the same name but different last names. I rinsed and then spit. And then I realized she had charged me $4000 for the treatment, and altho I think I handed over my credit card, I was upset that now my funds are depleted for one unnecessary purchase that I hadn’t even been planning to make. I tried to remember if I’d signed some credit card receipt, and I don’t think I did, so I thought maybe she screwed up and I wouldn’t be charged for this, after all. I questioned her about the price but she just pointed to some other patient names in the appointment book and at some numbers written after those names, with a verbal explanation I didn’t understand. I think it was that if someone canceled and I took their spot, I’d get a discount. After some time, it appeared I was done with this treatment, so I took the water bottle and left the office.

I was walking around with this weird dry and wrinkled sensation in my mouth, probably due to the solution, so I rinsed again. The mirror reflected gooey but slightly whiter teeth, but only up to a certain height in my upper front teeth, as if the solution didn’t go all the way up to my gums. So I rinsed and spit again. And then I thought, maybe I’m supposed to keep the solution in my mouth longer? Cuz the ads for Brite-Smile all say that the treatment is a few hours in the dental office. So right when I swigged a mouthful and retained it, I realized this is the time that the Disneyland Half-Marathon was about to start. It was like 11:22 or something. It was something-22. People in running jerseys were running past me to the start point, and I somehow knew they were doing the Family 5K run. I tried to ask an official-looking coach whether the half-marathon was going to start, too, except I couldn’t talk with the stuff in my mouth, so I was trying to gesture “half” while making “mmph” sounds that I hoped would resemble the tones of words. She didn’t understand me. I started getting more stressed out that not only am I in the hole for this stupid whitening thing that I’m not even sure I’m doing correctly, but I was about to be late for the half-marathon. I hoped that they clock you from the point you cross the start line to begin the race, and not from the gunfire.

With this dream, you’d think I’m worried about my finances and my run, but I’m not.

Mr. Rogers (addressing Senator John Pastore in a 1969 US Senate hearing re funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, telling him the words to one of his songs from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood as a sample of responsible programming for children): This has to do with that good feeling of control, which I feel that children need to know is there.

What do you do with the mad that you feel
When you feel so mad you could bite
When the whole wide world seems oh so wrong
and nothing you do seems very right?

What do you do? Do you punch a bag?
Do you pound some clay or some dough?
Do you round up friends for a game of tag
Or see how fast you go?

It’s great to be able to stop
When you plan the thing that’s wrong
And be able to do something else instead
And think this song.

I can stop when I want to
Can stop when I wish
Can stop stop stop, anytime!
And what a good feeling to feel like this
And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there’s something deep inside
That helps us become what we can
For a girl can be someday a lady
And a boy can be someday a man.

In 6 minutes, Rogers convinced the Senator to sway his way to support the $20 million grant proposed by former president Lyndon B. Johnson for public broadcasting (as opposed to supporting the $10 million cut President Nixon wanted in order to fund the Vietnam War), and it spoke to me on perhaps the same personal level that the Senator felt that day. See the short clip of that convincing here.

Hmm. So what would make me feel better about turning 30? How about a 30th birthday bash at Disneyland, open invite, with a scavenger hunt and prizes? That way I don’t have to worry about reserving a venue to hold a certain number of people, or cleaning up, or catering, or even head counts. I’ll celebrate my big 3-0 with Disneyland celebrating its big 5-0! Just cuz I’m 30 doesn’t mean I’m aging! (At heart.) I’ve got someone who can get discount tickets, so people can RSVP with me or just show up. And then a bday lunch or a dinner together with everyone, perhaps somewhere in Downtown Disney. If people don’t want to spend the $ to get into Disneyland, then they don’t go, no big deal, that’d keep population control down to only the people who really like me, or who really want to go to Disneyland. And they can go off and do their own thing if they want, or stick with me. This way, kids are also welcome so people don’t have to hire sitters or worry about getting home too late or drunk.

I guess I should do flyers for work and an e-vite for my friends.

My current desktop wallpaper is this photo centered with a gray border:

** Update: I have a bailiff here visiting who’s served in the Marine Corps, Army National Guard, Navy Reserves, and is currently in the Air Force Reserves, and he took a glimpse at the photo and said it’s a Coalition Force member, not one of our boys, because the uniform and boots are not US standard issue, and the gun is M-16, which is American-made, so it’s one of our ally troops. The uniform is old-style from WWII days, so he’s thinking it’s maybe Russia or Belgium or somewhere around there. He also notes that the magazine coming out of the gun has black duct tape holding 2 magazines together butt-to-butt, which gives the soldier 2 magazines you can reload pretty quickly by simply turning it around and reinserting it the other way. He says in the military, they’re taught attention to precise detail (such as the way the boots are laced) so you can spot a spy pretty quickly in the ranks.

**Update 2: In addition to the old tactics of lacing people with bombs (suicide bombers or dead casualties), the terrorists are now lacing animals with bombs because Americans like pets, so a soldier would be there going, “Hey, puppy, c’mere,” and a remote terrorist would detonate a bomb placed inside the animal that blows the nearby troops up. Now there’s a standing order to our military to the effect of “Do not pet or feed the domestic or wild animals!”

…may be thrown into your gears, but it’s nice to have friends to help.

I got this email earlier from an old friend. Posted with his permission:

i had a dream bout you last nite.

You had your car in a shop and we were going to pick it up. when we got to the shop, they said your car was not ready yet. We decided to go get some lunch at Mimi’s cafe. They let you choose your own seats but they charged us $5.00 for it. They seated us and took our orders and charged us $15 for like a waiter fee or soemthing like that. We were pretty irratated at these random charges. i asked if we were expecting Mr. W for lunch but you said he couldnt make it. We were fuming when they brought our food and it was completely wrong. The waiter was a jerk. Everyone was mean there. gosh. i dotn know why you choose these places. >.< My mommy appeared to help us pack the left overs. When we left, we ran into Allan, Julie, John, (julie;s uncle) adn some other people. You waved but kept walking as i greeted everyone but you also turned to wait for me. When they entered Mimi's, for some reason, i had computer parts scattered everywhere. I was scrambling to put them into my backpack cuase you said the car was ready and they were only going to be open for another 30secs. Some mutant appears and helps me turn all my pc parts in sofas as a diguise and said he'll keep it hidden for me till i came back. we raced over to the shop and got your car just in time.

How bizarro!

In the whole feel-good theme going on this week, this is some touching sentiments and beautiful photography forwarded from Navy Girl Vanessa.

May You Be Blessed

And this is some hilarious and very talented dancing that my bailiff heard about on the radio.

The Evolution of Dance

Make sure your speakers are on!

This is really interesting. On The Sneeze is a post dated 6-5-06 about sounds so high-pitched that only people under age 25 could hear it, so store owners were emitting that sound to keep teenagers out of their stores. And then the teenagers, realizing that adults can’t hear this sound what with natural deterioration of hearing range sensitivity and all, started using that sound as their cell phone ring tones so their phones could ring in class and the teacher wouldn’t know. On the site is a sample of 2 such sounds, the first between 15000 Hz and 17000 Hz, and the 2nd sound lower than that. The administrator of The Sneeze zine/blog welcomes people to comment on this post and talk about their experience with the sound, and there was a range of teens who were driven crazy by the “pulsating” of the first sound altho most adults just heard ambient street noise, and a lot of people (me included) could hear and hate the 2nd sound.

Here’s the comment I posted on The Sneeze about that:
“I’m 29 (30 in a few weeks). I played the 2 clips on Media Player, which has visual patterns/graphics that respond to sounds being played.
On the 1st one, I could see the design pulsating with some rhythm, but could not hear the pulses. All I heard was street noise and laughter. On the 2nd one, the high-pitched screeching was so painful that I pulled back and cringed, temporarily unable to even reach out and click the “stop” button. No way I’d go near a store emitting that noise. But now I know not to make fun of movie characters who freeze in mid-action and hold their ears when some villain plays a high-pitch noise. Haha, stupid wimps. Oh wait, I can’t do that anymore.”

There’s also a link on The Sneeze’s post that links to another guy’s site who posted a range of sounds to see where his hearing peaked out. His peaked out at 15000 Hz. Unfortunately, so did mine. 15000 Hz was painfully thin and shrill, but I heard nothing in the 16000 Hz clip. How sad that my hearing has deteriorated by half already and I’m usually careful about not cranking up my music too loud. I blame it on the street noise pouring into my car when I drive my Honda.

“See, it’s the little things,” Dwaine said over and over last night. Little things like
* hanging out at an old friend’s new house that’s designed so beautifully and so comfort-consciously that you can sprawl out on the leather sofa and not feel like it’s gross or inappropriate
* splitting a delicious pepperoni, bell pepper and olive pizza after stumbling delightedly on each other’s identical dislike for Hawaiian pizza toppings (Me: “I can deal with the ham all right, but I can’t stand the sweet and salty thing on something that’s supposed to be salty! I mean, is it a dinner, a dessert?” Dwaine: “That’s exactly how I feel! Pineapple has no business being anywhere near a pizza! I like pineapple, I can eat it as a separate dessert after dinner, but my respect for people just drop when they want a Hawaiian pizza.”)
* starting with white zinfandel, then moving on to shiraz, then some amazing Jamaican rum cream
* very engaging conversation about our past and old childhood acquaintances, our careers, our futures; psychoanalysis and ridicule of the male goal-oriented mind vs. the female emotion shifts (his life); gender roles and some politically incorrect spewage
* lots of laughing (only slightly enhanced by alcohol)
* an offer to take me to and pick me up from the airport when I fly up north in a few weeks for my bday, thereby resolving all the anxiety I had about getting there on time, not getting lost, where to park my car over the weekend and not pay an arm and a leg, etc.

Totally worth ditching jujitsu and running for.