Friday, November 20, 2009

So, I don't have rabies after all.

About two weeks ago, I was strolling past a grocery store, content at having found a sweet doll to send to my best friend's new daughter -- when I was bitten by a dog. An English bull terrier. You know, a Spuds Mackenzie dog from the 80s beer commercials? I was walking towards it, thinking what an odd looking head these dogs have, and how people think they are so violent, but this one looks sweet. (ha ha, right?) It was tied to a post outside the store and as I walked past, it jumped up like it was greeting me. No growl, no bark. Just up on its hind legs, pawing in the air with its front legs like it wants a head scratch or other affection. So I stepped closer to pet it -- and CHOMP! It dropped down and went straight for my shin! Bit right through my jeans into my flesh.

Thing is, when I backed away, it again just sat there calmly. It wasn't being aggressive. It wasn't straining at its leash. It obviously was just stressed and scared about being tied up with all these people about and felt the need to protect itself from anyone too close, and I obviously had been too close when I walked by.

The crowd informed me that it had bitten two people before me, and another woman whom it bit was waiting for the owner to come out. When the owner came out, she said "Oh. He's never done that before. I'm so sorry." I told her this isn't an I'm Sorry situtuation. A dog that bites everyone who walks by obviously has issues being tied up in a strange location in public, and there is next to no chance it has "never done that before".

At this point the woman walked over to the dog to untie it - and hit it three times in the side! As if the dog has any idea why it is being hit! Which is probably exactly why it is stressed about being tied up in public. Because it probably bit someone the first time, and got hit when the owner returned, and then bit and was hit every subsequent time it was tied up in public. It probably equates being tied up in public with being hit, which explains its stress.

I took the owner's phone number, and the number of the other woman the dog bit, and I had to call Animal Services. I knew it would fall on the dog, but I hoped someone would step in and smack the owner three times on her side! Because the bite broke the skin, I had to call Public Health and they had to quarrantine the dog for 10 days to ensure it didn't have rabies. I wasn't really all that concerned about rabies as I've been vaccinated from working at the shelter. I just wish the owner was the one who had to be quarrantined. I feel so bad that if the owner continues to be irresponsible and stresses out the dog by still tying it up in public, and the dog bites again, now it has "a record". Because of me. And it may have to be destroyed if it bites again, because it has a record, because of me.

It's so unfair. Animal Services still hasn't come by to take my statement. They say they're dispatched to my place each day, but then higher priority calls arrive. I don't have a problem with that, I just hope they do get around to me some day. I want it on file that they need to be keeping a record of this owner more so than the dog, and that if the dog bites again they need to look closely into whether or not the owner drove it to do so with her flagrant disregard for its physical and mental well-being.

Regardless, Public Health called me today to tell me the dog is out of quarrantine and just fine, so there is no chance it had rabies at the time it bit me, so I'm good to go. Yeah. Real good. I painted a bullseye on a dog. I'm terrific.

Photographic Proof

Me and the lovely Ms. Underhill. No, I don't have her permission to post this. I have chosen to interpret the Producers' request to only post pictures for which I've received permission to pertain solely to the photos and videos which may be compromising to the celebrity...

...which is why this picture is so narrow:
Celebrities in compromising positions have been cropped out.

(I think I'm singing. I think.)

Thursday, November 19, 2009

So that's the way it goes, eh?

"I learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens. And high school girls with clear-skinned smiles, who married young and then retired..."

So Stephane and Marie-France were not to be. Although perhaps we did have them one week longer than we would otherwise have had them. That's something.

I really enjoyed watching the finale. I haven't ever been one to watch shows like this, actually. Not a fan of any of the [Insert Nationality] Idol[s], So You Think You Can Dance [What Makes You Think I Care One Way or The Other] or Dancing with the Stars [I've Usually Never Heard Of]. I don't think I would have watched this show had I not been involved with it. But that's the way it goes. It's been picked up for a second season, and let me tell you, even if I'm not working on it again (although I'd like to be), I will be watching it now. If only to see if Stephane and Marie-France will return for a guest episode.

Now the fun part -- the Wrap Party! Hee hee. Where cast and crew come together with drink and hors d'oeuvres ... usually much more of the former than the latter.

So let's just get down to what you already know: NHL players, even the retired ones in their fifties, are par-ti-ers! Wow. Was a little stunned there. And I am confident one of the figure skaters showed up to the party already pissed to the gills. She entered from one end of the room and wanted to be on the other end of room, and no body nor toes were going to be getting in her way by god. But of course the stripper poles on either edge of the dance floor were pivotal to the evening's entertainment, as they were used to great effect by a few players ... and the offspring of one of the players (who must be very proud of his minor children's grinding prowess) ... and said gills-pissed figure skater who climbed on the shoulders of the player using the stripper pole in order to strut her own grinding stuff. Many batteries were run down by powering the plethora of video/camera phones that got a work out. Is it any wonder that, within hours of the party's conclusion, the producers sent out a mass email reminding all that it was a private party so photos and videos should not find their way onto the internet without the exhibitionists' -- I mean celebrities' -- permission.

I can report, however, that yes, I did meet Ron Maclean. [smooth man. obviously well used to persons gushing. I really did try not to get any gush directly on him -- may or may not have succeeded.] And Marie-France Dubreuil. [sweet, sweet woman. I told her I was very much hoping for her and Stephane to win, and she said "Ooh!" and hugged me. Then let me go, cried out "Ooh!" again and hugged me again. sweet, sweet woman] And Barb Underhill. [her performance in the finale made me cry and I told her so. My friend with a camera asked if I wanted a picture with Barb -- what am I supposed to say in front of Barb? No? -- so I asked if Barb minds and she said it was fine. My one and only photo with a celebrity]. Craig Simpson walked past me at one point, and our eyes happened to meet. He looked at me like he was curious what I would say to him. I thought it would be rude to just look away without acknowledging him, so I said Congratulations and shook his hand. He seemed pleased with that and moved on.

I spent a lot of the night walking around with the aforementioned friend to take pictures for her of her with celebrities of her choice. She and I both wanted to meet Stephane, but he left the party before we had our nerve up. Well, before I had my nerve up, and my friend started drinking in earnest. =) Many of the celebrities looked a little confused when I would take her picture with them, but not ask them to take a picture with me. But I'm not really into that. I don't know why. And apparently, neither did they.

She asked if she should take a picture with Domi just to bug her boyfriend because of how much he dislikes him. I said "Of course!!" (What difference does it make to me? I'm sober. She's drunk. Dance puppet dance! Ha ha. I'm such a stinker) Afterwards I told her she should have asked to take the picture with Domi, I should have set up the shot, and then we both should have said "Just kidding!" and walked away without taking his picture. (said I was a stinker!)

I'm really glad I did this show, even if it was only as a volunteer. The show went over like gangbusters for CBC. Never a bad thing to have that popular of a show on your resume.

Friday, November 6, 2009


Sunday, November 1, 2009

Okay, so now Richer/Dubreuil

Sure, for some Simpson/Sale may seem like the safe choice. Too safe. It's too easy. They're pretty. They're smooth. They're flexible. Yawn.

I find I'm kind of liking how Richer and Lemieux are doing. They still look like hockey players, except now they're hockey players who are figure skating. So I'm going to throw my hat behind Richer/Dubreuil. (and my hat in front of Domi as he skates by)

And it's starting to get physical in the stands.

We've been asked to clear out the arena after the show each night so that the Gardens can be shut down as soon as possible. This is complicated by the skaters who want to be accessible to their fans, and sometimes will linger at ice's edge gathering crowds like a rolling snowball. So we just have to wait it out, try to keep the fanball from growing, and disperse them as soon as we are able.

Two weeks ago, one guy was bound and determined to roam the arena to pick it clean of any famous personnel he could flush out. So I headed him off after he had Kurt sign a literal stack of glossies. The man wasn't about to allow me, a commoner, to get in the way of his eBay business, and kept walking around me like I was invisible and hadn't spoken to him at all. When that didn't work out for him, he started to argue with me to let him pass. When that didn't work out for him, he started to push through me. Luckily a very large and polite security guard arrived at that moment, put his hand on the guy's shoulder and said "It's time to go sir. This way."

Last week, though, this guy would have been pleased. My section is in the corner of the arena, and I don't know if the production crew ran out of boards or just didn't care about securing my section after doing the rest of the arena, but my section has a gap between the seats and the walkway in front of the seats. I've worked how many days without incident?

Then, last week, I pivoted and stepped towards the seats to show a group of people where they can sit -- and WHOOSH! I was hip deep in the gap between the seats and the walkway. The group I was helping converged on me, as did the other volunteers in sight of my disappearing act. I just lay my head down on the steps I was now conveniently eye-level to, and swore a blue streak in my mind from the pain. Millions of hands helped haul me out of the hole, and I was inundated with questions as to my health.

What did I do?

Pivoted around again, much more carefully this time, and tried again to show the group where they can sit.

I knew I could stand and I knew I could walk, so I knew I would just be dealing with a very large and ugly bruise. And, well, I was right:

I have another one the size of my hand on my shin, but it isn't quite so camera visible (and I haven't shaved my legs in quite a few weeks so why subject you all to that).

The next day, the production crew found time to fix the gap. Go figure.