PROS AND CONS OF BEING THE HUMAN MEMBER OF A PACK OF WILD DOGS

If you’d told me a year ago that today I’d be living in an old storm drain, the sole human member of a pack of wild stray dogs? I’d have been like, ‘no way, buddy.’ If you told me today that I am the sole human member of pack of wild stray dogs? I’d be like, ‘yes, obviously. Now run, because some of these guys really do not like humans coming around, and the way they respond to not liking something is usually by trying like hell to kill it.’

Joining up with this dog pack has been really rewarding in so many ways, maybe it’s pointless or uncool to focus on the couple of things about it that suck a little. But the editors asked me for both sides of the story, and if there’s one thing being a member of a pack of wild stray dogs has taught me, it’s that when whoever is in charge makes their desires clear, you better deliver and fast if you don’t want to get bit in the face.

PRO: Clear power structure

The alpha is the leader, everyone else obeys of faces a vicious biting. You never wake up wondering what you’re doing that day, you wake up and the alpha makes it clear. Sounds a little oppressive, maybe, but once you’re a week in it becomes routine and really is kind of liberating.

CON: Not being the alpha

Maybe I was being a little presumptuous to assume that, as a human, I’d quickly be granted alpha status. I mean, I know it was, now. These dogs really do not trust most humans. I had to keep running up to the grocery store and coming back with hams for everyone to share just to get them to admit me into the pack, and even then I’d end up with as many bites as the ham got.

Our alpha is a Mastiff, I call him Hugo. He’s got a collar with a tag on it around his neck that presumably has his real name written on it, but the closest I’ve been to it has been when he’s biting me and getting savagely bitten doesn’t lend itself well to careful observation.

I’m not giving up on making alpha, though. Oh no I am not. My mistake at first was assuming they’d want a human master, now I know I have to earn my rightful rank by dog standards. It’s tough, because a lot of what these guys respect is tough for a human—hunting, fighting with teeth alone, that kind of stuff. But I’ll figure it out.

PRO: Less ambiguity in relationships

When one member of the pack takes a liking to another, they come up and start sniffing. If they get ignored, they move on; if they get sniffed back, a little playful biting ensues to establish dominance—the equivalent of human flirting—and that leads directly to consummation. Simple, direct. Let me make it clear that I haven’t entered into a romantic relationship with any of these dogs, I’ve just observed. I’m not a sicko. This Irish Setter, Penelope, tried to sniff around me a little when she was new to the pack and to tell you the truth she was a little more aggressive that I would have liked but it didn’t get too out of hand.

CON: Harder to meet human women

I really thought observing this direct approach amongst the pack would give me an edge with human women—be direct about what you want, don’t be afraid to go for it, don’t linger if it isn’t happening—but when I tried to put it into practice I flopped hard. Part of this is maybe that living with the pack has left me a bit bedraggled, to say the least, so my options are limited to women I find outside. I can’t exactly get into a nightclub with all these bites on my face. What am I going to say to the doorman, ‘my alpha got mad I made eye contact with him and bit my face, no worries it’s cool?’

I tried approaching some women at an outdoor café last week. A year ago, pre-pack, I would have tried some lame line on them. A pick-up line I saw in a book, or a movie. One time at a party I was standing across the room from this woman all night, finally I went over to her and said, “If you’re going to make me wait all night for you to come say hello, can you at least stand a little to the left so we can stop locking eyes? It’s distracting.’ She loved it. Loved it. And then I felt bad, sorta, that she loved it. Like, she loved that? What’s wrong with her?

So last week I see these two women sitting outside and I stroll up and say to one of them and say, ‘Excuse me, ma’am, but I couldn’t help but notice you sitting there and when I noticed you I couldn’t stop staring and the more I stared the more I couldn’t stop thinking that mating with you might be really, really gratifying because you have all the qualities I look for in a mate and something about the way you hold your head makes me think you might be really, really good at it.’

Now, maybe it’s because I look like someone that’s been sleeping in a pile of wild dogs in a gully for the last 3 weeks, or maybe I came on too strong, but she didn’t like it. Not one bit. She didn’t ignore me, though! Nope, she straight up attacked me, instead. Started throwing things, her cup, her plate. It was humiliating, even more so because the pack was all around me watching this go down. They really seemed embarrassed for me. That night, back at the storm drain, Hugo barely bit me at all when I tried to edge into the sleep pile. He just kind of nipped me. In a way I was like, I don’t need your pity. But in another way I was like, showing pity is weakness, Hugo…and no one weak lasts as alpha long.

MEET THE TWINS

Hello everyone! Marissa and I want to thank you all so much for the support you’ve given and all the excitement you’ve shown at the birth of our twins, Zest Flagon Caldwell and Birch Nottingham Caldwell! A lot of you have expressed interest in meeting them, and Marissa and I couldn’t be more excited to introduce them to all our wonderful friends!

Now, we hate to be those parents who are all precious about their children, but Marissa and I wanted to share a couple of things with everyone before they come by and see the twins for the first time. We don’t want our little angel’s to get overwhelmed, so we ask that everyone make an appointment before dropping by. Attached to this message you’ll find a sign-up sheet, appointments are in 15 minute increments. If there isn’t a time on the sign-up sheet that suits you, please let Marissa or I know and we’ll try and add a wider array of times to the next sign-up sheet we send around. We ask that you be on time (looking at you, Greg, LOL) and if you find that you’ll be more than a couple minutes late, please try to reschedule. We’re trying to keep the twins to a strict routine, and you parents out there don’t need me to tell you how easily the smallest disruption can throw off an entire day.

Please try and be at least 10 minutes early to your appointment with the twins, as this will give you enough time to disinfect and change clothes. We’ve set a sanitizing gel dispenser outside our front door, and on the bench beside that you’ll find a crate of shrink wrapped gender-neutral frocks, surgical masks and hairnets that we ask you to change into after rubbing down with the gel. I know it’s a little kooky, but it’s important to us that we limit the twin’s exposure to germs until they’re a little older and better able to fight off any nasty bugs Mother Nature might toss their way; we’re also committed to raising the girls as free from the restraints of societally imposed gender roles as possible. I know that’s a tall order, but Marissa and I agree that seeing a child (or anyone, really…thinking of you again, Greg LOLOL) struggle with what’s expected of them because of their birth gender is just so heartbreaking, and we want to spare Zest and Birch that trouble if we can. It’s not going to be easy, but keeping everyone they come into contact with gender neutral for the time being is how we’ve decided to start, and I’m not asking you to do anything Marissa and I don’t keep to ourselves. The frocks are burlap, so you might want to bring along some long underwear or something (freshly laundered and disinfected) to wear underneath to prevent chaffing. 

Trust me when I say it’s no fun getting up every 30 minutes all night long to check in on them but having to slip into a frock, mask, and hairnet first. I guess this is what they’re talking about when they say being a parent means making a lot of sacrifices!

After you’ve changed, you are free to enter our home. Come on in! You’ll notice two things right away: the extreme darkness and the blaring music. Don’t freak out! We’ve decided to raise the twins in complete darkness for at least the first six months so as not to overwhelm them with visual stimulus based on Marissa and my tastes when it’s so important for them to develop their own identities.  You’re asking, what about the music, then? Isn’t that imposing your tastes on the twins? Nope! The music we play at the house is a mix that Marissa and I worked super hard on, carefully balanced to include everything from pop to Celtic chants to aboriginal klezmer boogie and back again. No style or genre is favored, it’s a true sampling of all the world has to offer with absolutely no point of view.

You might also be asking, why do I have to wear this gender neutral frock, mask, and hairnet if the entire house is blacked out? Well, that’s because we can’t be sure that the twin’s won’t develop super sensitive night vision in response to the total darkness they exist within. We’ve consulted with a couple specialists on this, and while their responses have been varied, it seems to us that we’d rather be safe than sorry.

Once you enter the house you’ll find a rope attached to the left side of the entryway, take ahold of this and follow it down the hall to the twin’s room. When you reach the end of the rope, directly below where it ends you’ll find a basket containing infrared goggles. You’ll be able to view the twins through these. Please, please do not step inside their room, though, as we don’t want them to feel as though their space is being invaded. Trust me when I say you won’t have any problems catching how bright these two shine from the doorway. It’s going to be tough to keep completely silent when you see these two, but again I have to ask that you do, as making sure the only sound they are exposed to is the music is a real priority.

I know this sounds like a lot of crazy instructions, sorry. Marissa and I will be monitoring your entire visit from the command center in the basement, though, and if it looks like you forget something or whatever one of us will be right up to set you straight, so no pressure.

What else…oh! A lot of you might be interested in bringing presents! While we super appreciate the thought, Marissa and I ask that instead of physical gifts you weave a dream catcher (instructions for this also attached to this message) and donate it to a local library.

Okay, sorry for the long message. I’m just so scattered these days! Looking forward to seeing you all (sure, via security camera from my command center, but nonetheless) soon!

Thanks,

Scott and Marissa

YOU KNOW YOU GREW UP IN THE 90'S IF...

…your father deposited semen-laden sperm into your mother’s vagina, impregnating her with you, sometime between lets say 1980 and 1990.

…you distinctly remember eating Urkel breakfast cereal and only know about the Rwandan genocide because of that movie ‘Hotel Rwanda.’

…when people mention the attack on the World Trade Center you ask them to clarify which attack they’re talking about.

…you miss the good old days when the president was too busy having sex with interns to meddle with healthcare.

…you miss the days when the radio used to play nothing but Green Day, Sublime, Pearl Jam, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

…You still think of the Democratic Republic of the Congo as Zaire.

…You used to watch The Simpsons, South Park, and Family Guy on TV.

…you remember when a new Batman movie came out every few years.

…you lost a friend or family member to snap bracelets.

…whenever you visit the house you grew up in you take a moment to leave flowers at the Tamagotchi graveyard out back.

…you remember when all the stars of Beverly Hills 90210 still seemed like they had boundless potential.

…you still remember exactly what you were doing when Burundian Presid ent Melchior Ndadaye was assassinated.

…you begged your parents to let you get your hair styled like ‘Rachel’ and your legs braced like ‘Forrest.’

…your childhood ended the day you realized that when Alanis Morisette sang about performing oral sex in a movie theater, she was referring to Uncle Joey from Full House.

…your physical decay is steadily getting harder to ignore.

5 Classic Christmas Episodes

Cheers—Mickey’s Wish (Season 9)

While fans never warmed to Sam’s orphaned nephew Mickey, and the character was dropped at the end of season 9, the little urchin was responsible for one classic episode. Desperate to make Mickey’s first Christmas without his parents a good one, Sam is stifled when Mickey announces that all he wants for Christmas is one more day with his mom and dad. Sam asks Frasier and Rebecca to pose as his deceased brother and sister-in-law, but due to a miscommunication Norm and Carla also show up Christmas morning disguised as Mickey’s parents. To make matters worse, a jilted Cliff shows up with a priest in tow, dead set on preforming an exorcism. BONUS FACT: Ted Danson recently revealed that is was during the filming of this episode that he decided the show had run its course.

Family Matters—Steven Got Run Over by a Reindeer (Season 7)

With the Winslow’s distracted waiting for the results of Carl’s biopsy, A lonesome Urkel decides to get some attention by faking an injury he claims was caused by a runaway reindeer. It doesn’t take long for Urkel’s story to make national news, and Urkel realizes he’s in over his head when monster hunters eager to make a name for themselves by bagging Santa flood the town and take over Rachel’s Place as their headquarters.  Fearful that he’s ruined Christmas for everyone, Urkel sets out to make things right by any means necessary. This episode features the first appearance of the short lived catch phrase ‘It’s got blood on it!’ which, while never as successful as ‘Did I do that?’ was responsible for netting over 70 million dollars in t-shirt sales in 1996.

ER—Tis the Season (Season 4)

The ER is overwhelmed when a mad bomber strikes a Santa Claus convention, injuring hundreds of Santa’s. When the police receive a note claiming that the bomber plans on finishing the job by attacking the ER next, the staff chooses to stay and see to their patients, making celebrities of them all. At the end of the episode Dr. Morgenstern reveals to Dr. Greene that he was behind the bombing and the threat, all part of a scheme to raise the hospital’s profile, and Dr. Greene decides to keep the whole thing secret, as Morgenstern’s heart was in the right place.

Golden Girls—It’s the Night Before Christmas (Season 6)

The girls are confused as to Blanche’s bah humbug attitude towards the holiday, and a well-intentioned Rose attempts to cheer her up by hiring a male stripper to entertain at the girl’s annual Christmas Eve party.  When the stripper (guest star Billy Baldwin) suffers a psychotic break during his performance, the girls find themselves facing Christmas morning his hostages. The episode culminates with Rose giving her life to free the others and returning in ghost form, a twist rarely mentioned and largely ignored in the episodes that followed.

The Honeymooners—Gift of the Mad Guy (Season 2)

Too broke to afford a nice present for Alice, Ralph attempts to make some extra dough moonlighting as an enforcer for a local loan shark. Meanwhile, Alice takes out a hefty loan to buy Ralph a new bowling ball. When she can’t make the vig, Ralph is dispatched to teach her a lesson—but they both learn something about love and the spirit of the season, instead. Unfortunately, this lesson is lost on the loan shark, who murders them both (Season 2 episodes often ended with Ralph and Alice being killed, an experiment on the part of producer Rod Serling. Serling left the series after season 2, and the episodes he oversaw rarely appear in syndication.)

There Have Been Women

Yeah, there have been other women since you left. The first woman I dated after you was Chloe, but he turned out to be too jealous. Then came Megan, then Serena. Both beautiful, in different ways; Megan like a car accident, Serena like an orchestra warming up. Megan moved to China and never came home, Serena developed this suspicion that I couldn’t read—long story—and tested me by communicating only by text until one day I realized I no longer missed the sound of her voice. Monica’s nesting made me jumpy. Rebecca liked me but loved her husband. Loretta was too old fashioned. Ivy had pale, translucent skin that tore easily, like a dragonfly wing. She died in a fire.

            Kathleen, Becky, and Dolores all died in fires, too. Separate incidents. You lose four girlfriends to fires and you can’t help but wonder what you’re doing wrong.

            Shelly was a classically trained actress. She left me for a dramaturge. I still don’t know what a dramaturge is. It sounds a little like the title of the person who would be in charge of drama on a planet that the Starship Enterprise would encounter. Like, Captain Kirk would be doing whatever and he’d get captured by these guards—the guards would have those drama masks, the sad and happy faces, on their uniforms—and they’d haul Kirk off saying, “We’ll see what the dramaturge has to say about this!”

Anyway I liked Shelly. I hope she’s happy.

Josephine cheated on me. Marissa cheated on me. Marilyn cheated on me. Clarissa and Candice cheated on me with the same guy. What I get for dating conjoined twins.

I dumped Casey, Allie, and Hannah, each for no real reason. I just woke up and felt like dumping that day. Would have been easier if they had by chance woken up that same morning in the mood to be dumped, but no luck. Hannah, I hear, made a fortune suing a grocery store chain over an infection she got off some tainted chicken, so maybe exercising a little more impulse control would have been in order on that one. It would be nice to have a fortune. I often think of how sick I am of not being really, really rich.

Maybe I should stop there. Wait, I forgot to tell you about Angelica. She blamed squirrels for all her problems. Hated them, used to carry around a little bag of cashews sprinkled with poison. When I broke up with her I said, maybe I’m old-fashioned but I think the man in the relationship should be the only one carrying around dangerous nuts. Glib, I know, and I could tell it stung her. I regret it now. She had some demons but she was at heart a sweet girl.

            Yeah, there have been women. This is just some of them. But look, I’m not bragging. If I was bragging I would tell you about Natalie, whose prehensile tail made sex scary and exhausting and quite frankly ruined me for sex with tail-less women for about six months after she died in a fire. Shit, that’s five that died in fires, isn’t it. How have I not been questioned by the police yet?

            There have been women. I told many of them I loved them and some of the time I meant it, although I’ve learned that when you tell someone that you never really mean it the same way twice. And I’m sure there have been other men in your life since we last spoke but I kind of hope there hasn’t been. I hope there’s been just one, and that he’s kind and shares your interests, but not in a competitive way; that he’s not afraid to share his feelings but doesn’t do it constantly, that he likes to travel and has a job he can leave at the office. I hope he has an injury—physical or psychological—that prevents him from functioning sexually. I hope that when you laugh with him it’s never forced. I hope you own a fire extinguisher.