If Only I Could Have One Of These In New York

After walking the streets of New York everyday for about 18 months now, I realize how much a pain in the ass dogs can be. Sure, for their owners it can be maddening as they don't just shut the fuck up or have to be brought outside to tinkle every 4 hours, even in the bitter-ass cold. No, it's also the fact that everyone else has to deal with these dogs on a constant basis. While it's been my experience that most of these dogs that I encounter don't jump on you when you're walking around, that doesn't mean all that much--I still have to put up with all these dogs' shit. Literally.

Sometimes it makes me wish I could have brought Rambo up here with me. Or maybe go about this another way, and get myself a new pet, like this guy in Poland:


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I'm just imagining the possibilities of walking down the street with a lion. It's as cute as a cat, plus you get the added bonus of maulings! It's an unbeatable combination! And maybe a visit from Lafcadio here would convince some of these assholes to pick up their dogs' shit.

WDR Is Hitting the Road...Again!

(Well, some of us are)

I just wanted to make the announcement that after weeks of careful deliberation and much soul-searching, that I came to the realization that I needed to embark on some life-affirming quest. I needed to return to my roots, and go back to the city of my birth, and hopefully I will receive some sort of divine inspiration that will guide me as I embark on a new chapter in my life. Embrace the past to move on to the future, or something to that effect.

Oh, and I wanted to get my drink on and celebrate Mardi Gras. That was an important part of the decision-making process as well.



It has been many years since I've been back to my previous home state--so long, in fact, that the last visit I had made, Dubya wasn't even in the White House at that point (oh, the good ol' days--you knew where you were then, watching shows like "Gentle Ben" (guess we could use a man like Sheriff Lobo again)). And I thought to myself, "Nic. You're probably going to be in school/working for the rest of your life. You're not doing anything right now. When are you going to have a chance like this to truly take in the Mardi Gras experience?" The answer was "Only when I decide to commit career suicide", which is probably at least two decades away. So, in the spirit of instant gratification, I booked a ticket on a whim and am now headed back to Louisiana at the end of the month.


What does this mean to you, the viewer of this reputable website? Well, probably no posts from me that week (and considering the participation by the other co-authors, that'll probably mean no new material at all--unless they can figure out how to work the YouTube machine and toss in some hilarity for you to enjoy). On the other hand, I should be able to get a camera and provide you with pictures of all the festivities at some point. In the end, I win, and you end up not really giving a shit. Thus, the circle of life is complete.