Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Watch the Hands!

Mika is in Week 7 of Intermediate dog training. The dog is smart, and I'm not just saying that 'cause she's my dog. She's one of those dogs that really does well with structure, and she needs to be entertained constantly. Training has turned her into this great dog in a short amount of time.

So, the guy who teaches our class, Gregg, is well-known in the dog world. He trains movie stars' dogs, he gets flown around the country to train rich people's dogs, and he also created a system of training that is used in Petsmarts around the country. So yeah, he's good. And tough. On the humans. But besides being tough on us, our good friend Gregg has taken a special interest in Mika's mom. That's me if you're keeping score. Gregg's a close-talker to the extreme, and when he's trying to make a point to me he puts a hand on each one of my shoulders and talks to me with his nose about 3 inches from mine. He talks to me like I'm a child, and he lectures me for about 30 (very uncomfortable) seconds too long. But then there was week two, the first time I'd been without Ryan. Evidently I did something well (for a change) and Gregg yelled to the rest of the class: "Everyone! Isn't she great?! If she wasn't married, I'd marry her!" Then he whispered to me, "You are married, aren't you?" Um, yeah creepoid, now back off.

So since then I've been on my gaurd, and it really helps when Ryan's there for class. But last week I was working in one of the isles of the store w/ Mika and Ryan was out of eyesight of us. Gregg came to check on our progress and was unhappy with how I was moving my hips to cue the dog. So he demonstrated. By putting his hands on my hips and moving them for me. For real people! So now we've moved Gregg alert to Code Orange, Code Orange being: "Gregg is a creep who could possibly not be harmless". So Mika and I have a plan: Go to class, keep our mouths shut, do what we're told, and avoid the hands. Yikes.

The weekend was pretty good. I made my first ever carrot cake from scratch for the guys at the station and it was SO GOOD. I'm telling you, it was perfectly moist and absolutely delicious. And unlike my brownies (which are one of my favorite things to make), the cake didn't appear to cause any bad luck to befall the shift that day. Evidently those brownies make bad things happen which have the guys up all night answering ridiculous calls ("Um, Mr. Firefighter, my stomach hurts. Its been bothering me for 3 days and I just decided at 2 o'clock in the morning to take care of it, thus waking you from your slumber because I just assume that you're awake your entire 24-hour shift anyway.") Anyway, the guys are really superstitious, so the brownies have, sadly, been banned. I'm still working to perfect my frostings. I'm anti store-bought frostings.

Dan over the wall at work is still at it. Today he actually was singing that country song with 'Amanda' in the title. He also yelled "Yeah baby!" at least 3 times, and todays main song of choice was "Phantom of the Opera." I'm worried about him.

Bye for now!


Blogger Goofy Girl said...

That guy sounds way creepy. Eeek.

Carrot cake sounds really yummy!!

4:25 AM  
Blogger The "Mind" said...

Holy Creepoid, Freakman!

Yeah, keep your distance from him.

Hey, I have a To-Die-For butter cream frosting recipe that I'd be willing to pass to you, if you'd like. Think oreo cookie center style. I'm drooling just thinking about it.

10:55 AM  
Blogger jt said...

He's a dog trainer, he should know the drill. Next time he does something inappropriate, jerk his choke-chain sharply and forcefully say "NO!". If he repeats his mistake, hit him sharply on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. If that doesn't cure him, you may have to send him to the Vet to get fixed. It sounds harsh, but it's the best thing in the long run.

4:33 PM  

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