The Ramblings of Ridiculicious

International Humorist

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Cabbagetown Walk
When the Mayor (my dog) and I go on walks in Cabbagetown, we have a little routine. First we go up the hill from my house and pass the white trash house on the right  where I pick up the trash they've thrown on the ground and put it in the garbage that they can't seem to hit through their meth haze. I then secretly think about burning down their house and blaming it on a meth lab explosion and we carry on with our walk.

We make our way up to Gaskil Street with the all the shotgun houses painted pink and red and blue and green and stop at the tiny one-room church. Usually, there is gospel music booming out on the street and happy black faces spilling out, shaking hands and laughing. If no one is at the church, I stop by the old ticketing station next door and pet the three stray kitties who live on the porch, while the Mayor crosses the street and says hi to Sugar, Susan's dog. Then the Mayor jogs back across the street smiling and we head up the street until we pass Chan Marshall's house, the singer for Cat Power, where he usually takes a pee on her flowering bush (not a euphemism), before we make our way to Mitchell and Mario's house.

Mitchell and Mario are a father/son construction team and they are usually on their porch greeting everyone while the make their beautiful creations. When they aren't making furniture, Mitchell is feeding the birds from his porch swing.  Mitchell has taken to putting a dog bowl outside his house so that all the neighborhood doggies can get a fresh drink of water on their walks.  "Hey Gorgeous,"  he usually calls out. But he's never talking to me, he's talking to my dog. And my dog runs up his porch and lets Mitchell pat him on the head a few times before he trots back down and we continue our walk.

After Mitchell's, we hit Carroll Street, lined with double-porch houses, painted purple and sage and baby blue. Band fliers are stapled to every single telephone pole. We pass Little's Park where we see John has hacked a little bit more on the the giant dead tree he hates. Or we see hyper-gay Troy, outside watering his plants in 40 degrees wearing nothing but a Speedo and his own name tattooed on his back (so no one will forget his name). 

We pass the cafe where all the patrons sitting outside pet the Mayor and tell me how gorgeous he is.  He tries to lift his leg on the restaurant door and every time I pull him away.  We pass the pizza parlor, the hair dresser, the tattoo parlor and Little's Grocery Store where you can go in and order a slushie.

The Mayor says Hi to the scooter kids who hang outside the tattoo parlor and we make our way up to the Milltown Tavern where I usually see Bill drinking a beer with his dog Lucy. Bill goes there every day to drink one to ten beers before his dog walk. He lives with his OCD partner Adam and I think he just goes there to get a moment of peace. In fact, I think his dog walks last about 4 hours.

As I walk up the hill, the huge Cotton Mill lofts loom to my left. And if I make it at the right time of day, I usually see Pat, who for the last 5 years, I thought was a man, but is really a woman. She has the worst bow legs I've ever seen in real life. I've seen better bow legs in cartoons. If I act like I don't see her (which I usually do), I can get out of a conversation about her project to make edible puppets (which I proudly exclaimed, would in fact  be actual meat puppets.) Or her latest sci fi movie that she's written. Or any of the other sad, lonely things a woman with bow legs who looks like a man wants to talk about.

I pass walls of terrible graffiti and some really good graffiti and barking dogs and Easter-egg colored houses with antique rocking chair porches and giant trees that overhang them and dribble down leaves and cones and sweet gum pods. The Mayor and I say hi to everyone we see and he usually gets a pat on the head. We pass the small park and another one-room church where someone carved in the concrete: "And god loves you to."  Their God doesn't judge you for shitty grammar, but mine does. 

After the neighborhood tour, we make it to the big park where we see all the Mayor's friends and all the neighborhood kids and parents and we all sit there and talk for an hour or so until the sun sets behind the giant Oak tree. The Mayor usually finds a stick to chew on and I gossip with all the neighbors while they drink their portable cocktails and right now, while I'm pregnant, I watch them. The trees are all starting to bloom, and it's nice and warm, so we are starting to stay a little longer in the park.  Which is nice, because I get to see all the babies grow into little people and all the dogs get a little slower and all the people change a little bit, but not too much.

On the way home, the Mayor walks much slower because he is pouting about having to go home or he might be just old (which I refuse to believe). He stops by Debbie's to see her dog Max and Hope's to see her old dogs and then we walk past another one-room church stoop where someone who might look a little inbred is always sitting.

We walk up to the old storefront where I used to live and where I wrote in the wet concrete: "I was here and so was Flynn (A.K.A the Mayor)."  We make our way back to our street and I see the Trash trying to get their electricity on by hotwiring the telephone pole (can't wait for that Darwin's Award) or throwing more trash in the street or breeding more inbred meth heads and I curse them and silently think about burning down their house and make my way back home, concentrating on the good houses on my right as I look down lovingly at my furry friend, the Mayor.

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I love this. It's like a little movie.

Please stick in the pictures.

I need another dog. :(

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