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August 15th, 2009

The sweaty pedestrian

I sleep with my window open.

I want to say this has something to do with “enjoying the Minnesota summer” but the truth is that my bedroom window has been stuck open for a few months and I’m too lazy to call the maintenance people.

Last night I regretted not getting that stupid window fixed because around 2am someone started shooting.

I live in one of those “just outside of downtown” neighborhoods where the distant sound of gunfire isn’t unusual, or a cause for concern. The problem with last night’s pops-in-the-night was that they were close enough to the building to freak out the dog, so I had an inconsolable bullmastiff to keep me awake for another hour or so.

So this morning I was exhausted, but I decided to bike to work anyway.

The bike ride to work is 20 sweaty miles in the name of fitness, up hill, each way.

On the way back, I had just crossed the Mendota Bridge when my rear tire deflated. A nail changed me from “hardcore biker guy” to “awkwardly sweaty pedestrian.”

The tire was completely loud and flat by the time I found a bike rack. I left the bike in the park bike rack and then walked to the train station to learn that it was closed for construction.

So I hiked about a mile through a set of cherry-pie neighborhoods¹ to the next train station. I then tried to ignore the glares from the high school girls who clearly thought I was too stinky and sweaty to be on the train.

I felt like leering at them and asking for change, but I just mopped the sweat from my face and stared awkwardly at my bag.

The walk from the final station was another two miles, so by the time I was a few blocks away from my apartment building I was done. I was so tired that I was just offended by my own exhaustion.

So of course it started sprinkling.

I shook my fist in the air and muttered “Don’t you DARE!” and then got embarrassed that I had actually threatened the sky.

Obviously, a few screws came loose on the Jansen train.

But my crazy threat to the sky worked, and the sprinkles stopped.²

After cleaning up and walking the dog, I drove to the park to pick up the bicycle. My bicycle usually doesn’t fit in my car, but the tire was so deflated that it gave me the few inches I needed to squeeze the bike in my back seat.

The bike is still in the car. I’m waiting for the rain to stop before I drag it upstairs.

It’s been storming for a few hours, and Harley is appreciating the thunder as much he appreciated last nights gunshots…excuse me while I coddle a 100lb dog.

¹ Shutters, sprinklers, geese, ponds, picket fences, Americana goodness.
² You can call me Rick James.

July 14th, 2009

The Graces

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I left work late, so the only street parking was a few blocks away.

When I got out of my car I noticed someone peering from the dirty white car across the street – it was Terry, the toothless man who sleeps in his car.

I nodded politely but Terry just kept giving me this blank-yet-rabid-stare. I could sense his eyes following me as I walked down the block…ugh.

After getting home and walking the dog, I realize that I left my laptop in my car. I decide that it is more prudent to fetch the computer than to explain to the cops why I left a laptop in a car parked next to a crazed semi-homeless man.

I tell Harley that we are going on a second walk, and start downstairs.

Three long-haired Indian women are sitting on the steps in front of the building. They are completely blocking the stairway, which has rails on either side.

The one on the left is morbidly obese, the one in the center is chubby, and the one on the right is normal-sized.

None of them budge.
The normal-sized one starts cooing over the dog – “Oh how sweet!” – etc.

As Normal is cooing, Chubby and Obese start making out. So I’m standing there, blocked in, watching these two unsightly women playing tonsil hockey.

And Normal felt inspired, because she leans over and STARTS KISSING THE DOG. On the lips!

So I’m standing, agasp, with NO idea what to do. This isn’t a funny situation like the last time some random person made out with my dog. This was kind of scary. These women were crazy.

The spit-fest continues for a few more minutes before Normal gets bored and lets me pass.

I pass the trollopes and walk down to the street, thoroughly disgusted. The dog is wagging his tail like a pimp, and I let out a Charlie-Brown style ARG! that I’m sure the women could hear over the slurping.

Terry-the-toothless is asleep when I fetched my laptop. And thankfully the women are gone by the time I come back to the apartment building.

Brownie points for those of you who caught the title.

July 2nd, 2009

Creeping out of the building…

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Last night…was some mess.

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May 14th, 2009

Dr. Dashing loses his cool

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So I’m re-reading DGCL § 141 in a hospital room when the doctor knocks on the door. He comes in and I realize that I really lucked out ala Dr. Doug Ross.

Dr. Dashing: “Hello, I’m Dr. Dashing. So you got a shot in the back?”
Me: “Yep.”
Dr. Dashing: “And where were you treated for that?”
Me: “Uh…here, well, I mean, at this hospital, over yonder in the E.R.”
Dr. Dashing: “I see.”

A nerve popped up on Dr. Dashing’s forehead. He flashed the big Minnesota “I’m annoyed” smile.

Dr. Dashing: “So I’m here to take out the bullet?”
Me: “Oh, no the E.R. took that out last week. I just need my stitches taken out!”
Dr. Dashing: “They what?”

He then lost it:

Dr. Dashing: “Yeah, we have been having some internal governance problems. See, THIS is the trauma clinic. I am a trauma surgeon. THEY over there in the ER are not the trauma surgeons. You received a bullet wound in your thorax so you should have been treated here! I mean, I assume they would have called us had anything gone wrong…”

Dr. Not-so-Dashing stopped his rant when he saw the “woah there skipper…” look on my face. After partaking in a moment of awkward silence, the doctor excused himself and fetched a nurse to take out my stitches…

May 10th, 2009

The study break

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So, I was working on a practice exam for tomorrow’s final when Harley walks up to me, sniffs my knee, and then walks to the wall and PEES ON IT.

I had an Alley McBeal hallucination moment where I saw myself screaming “FALAFEL!!” and lunging at him. I know that’s random…and actually, it might have been more productive because when I started to scold him the started running to the sofa…

…the only problem was that Harley was NOT DONE PEEING! So I chased him throughout the apartment yelling at him to turn off the faucet. Dis-aster.

I just wanted to concentrate on Mens Rea and not slash around in a pee slip-n-slide!

After mopping and spraying down the entire apartment, I grabbed the dog, threw him in the car, and booked it to Wal-Mart.

Harley’s now the proud new owner of a kennel.

He goes in there willingly so half the battle is over. I’m super-excited that I can leave books out now without the fear shredding.

Horrah!…now back to Mens Rea…

March 14th, 2009

The banana-bearing monkey

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There is a semi-sketchy Chinese restaurant in Jamie’s neighborhood that he has wanted to try for a while. We finally went yesterday.

The hostess was lopsided and creepy. The decorations were dated. The buffet was sparse and unfresh…so we opted for the menu…Jamie went to the restroom to wash his hands and came back with a massive grin:

Jamie: “You should go to the restroom before the food comes. Seriously. I strongly encourage it. Do you have your camera?”¹

I couldn’t resist. I went to the restroom and saw THIS posted on the door:

And in case you weren’t sure: YES that is a picture of a banana-bearing monkey sitting on a toilet.

Hilarity. It made the entire trip worth it.

¹ Yes, I usually carry a digital camera. Some things, like Mr. Banana here, have to be documented.

February 28th, 2009

So a law student walks into a liquor store…

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Jamie is hosting a meeting for his softball team tonight. He wants to serve cocktails, so we went to the liquor store.

We were near the refrigerated beer isle when I said,

Me: “Why bother with Cocktails? You should just get some Milwaukee’s Best! It’s classy.”

And of course there was a toothless semi-homeless man nearby, and of course he started talking to me:¹

Toothless: “What’s wrong with Milwaukee’s Best?!”
Me: “Nothing. It’s the business.”
Toothless: “That’s right!”

Toothless then goes to the end of the isle and says,

Toothless: “Come here. Let me rock you world.”

A homeless man offering to rock my world? I couldn’t resist!

I walk over to the fridge, and Toothless pulls out a 20-ounce beer can of some trashy brand I’ve never heard of.

Toothless (holding the can of TrashLite): “You see this stuff? It’s only $1.34. You see the Coors? It’s $2.88! It’s over a dollar more! AND! Look!”
Me: “Oh, it’s 11% alcohol.”
Toothless: “Exactly. Get two of them and it’ll F-ya-up on the cheap.”
Me: “I’ll keep that mind.”

The toothless man grabbed a few cans of TrashLite and started walking off.

Toothless (Calling back to me): “Trust me! It’ll rock your world! Drink two of them tonight and call me in the morning! You’ll tell me I’m right.
Me: “Will do!”²

¹ A rule of life is that bloggers attract The Crazy. Every time.
² And no, I did not buy any TrashLite Beer.

January 24th, 2009

A $150,000 wtf

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While studying with Jamie:

Me: “What the..”
Jamie: “What?”
Me: “No. Fail!”

Ganter v. Kapiloff

The brothers Leonard and Bernard Kapiloff are philatelists [stamp collectors]. In approximately 1976 they purchased two sets of stamps from Robert A. Siegel, Inc., a New York corporation dealing in postage stamps. That the stamps are of considerable value is reflected by their advertised price, $150,400.00.

As far as the brothers knew, those stamps remained in their possession until February 1, 1983. On that date Bernard Kapiloff saw an advertisement, in a nationally circulated catalogue, offering the stamps for sale. He contacted the alleged owner, Robert L. Ganter, and demanded return of the stamps. The demand was refused.

The Kapiloffs notified the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and that agency took physical possession of the stamps from J. & H. Stolow, another New York stamp dealer. The stamps had been consigned to Stolow by Ganter, who asserted that they were his property.

Okay, problem #1: They bought stamps for $150,000?! In 1976-dollars?!

Problem #2 is how Ganter found the stamps:

Ganter related in a deposition that he acquired the stamps by finding them in a dresser he had purchased for thirty dollars in a used furniture store. The purchase was made, according to Ganter, in “the spring or summer of 1979 or 1980.” When he “took the drawers out and started spraying [them] for roaches,” Ganter “found a bunch of newspapers, magazines and the stamps.” The stamps were in a glassine envelope and “looked very official” because they were accompanied by a certificate with “maybe a gold label on it.” No appraisal of the stamps was sought by Ganter at that time because he had “no particular interest in the stamps.” Subsequently, he visited someone in New York City who suggested the stamps be appraised. At Thanksgiving time 1982 Ganter took the stamps to the Stolow Auction House and was told that they were “a rather sensational find.”

The find wasn’t so sensational because the court made Ganter give the stamps back to the Kapiloff brothers.

What I don’t understand is how someone can drop 150k on stamps and then shove the stamps in an old dresser. What’s the point? They didn’t even notice that the stamps were gone for six years.

I think spending more than a dollar on a stamp is silly, but if you bought a set of stamps, put them in a display case and gazed at them lovingly every day…well, then that’s still crazy, but at least it’s not an utter waste of money. Fail Kapiloffs. Fail whale fail.

Ganter v. Kapiloff, 69 Md. App. 97 (Md. Ct. Spec. App. 1986)