Why You Should Give Dogs The Cold Shoulder
(and other zags for the weekend)
I know. Another grabby headline from the clickbait god. But here’s the 411. A few months back, I listed some ways y’all could go against the grain over the weekend. Nothing quite life altering. Just a few tics and takes that could have you feeling like you’re wearing a new pair of denim. Zags like buying a pipe, getting buckled with your shunned colleagues, or speaking of denim…wearing a pair of overalls. It’s one of the least read newsletters I’ve ever pumped out. It’s one of my favorites too.
So here are three more.
Zags for the weekend that is.
Give a dog the cold shoulder
Human are no longer capable of expressing emotions to one another without emojis, the heart reaction on iMessage, or therapy speak. It is why we’ve dedicated an inappropriate amount of companionship to another mammal that doesn’t possess the ability to speak English.
I don’t hate dogs. I just know too many of you have one. I know this because every public space is now a damn Petsmart. And with this unprecedented access, we’ve enabled dogs just a little too much. I shouldn’t be expected to stop my conversation, get on the ground, and start talking like a five year old any time your doodle walks in the room. Not this weekend. This weekend I’m giving your dog the cold shoulder. Or knee…(cause they’re short).
I’m not a serial killer. I’ll give Ralph a stern pet on the head if he’s a good guy. But then I’ll teach him a lesson in humility. Know your place, dogs. Go chase a fucking stick. The humans are talking.
Reply to Sarcasm With Earnestness
President Parad was about to leave our apartment last night when I asked him where he was going. He told me he was meeting Dane at Q’s for the Arkansas/Arizona bloodbath. I replied with a cold “Thanks for the invite bro…” Then Parad, without missing a beat, said “yeah dude…of course.”
Safe to say this broke my brain. He went down to the mat and put my sarcasm in a triangle hold of earnestness. Respected it so much I didn’t even mind that he forgot to invite me.
Try it out this weekend.
Capri Pants
Last summer I was with my dawg E out in Antwerp. We were doing some thrifting when a pair of Kappa capri pants caught my eye. E found a pair of Diadora capris soon after. We both tried ‘em on. It’s when I realized those capris fucking found E. And mine? Found the rack, once again. But the idea never died. It just simmered until last week when I watched a doc about Rafa Nadal. This was him on clay in Paris…Consider the idea reignited.
My shins and ankles are barking. My knees are begging to take cover.
Capris. This weekend. I’m finding my pair.
and finally…
One Fit For the Weekend
Duh.