Mixed Messages

By the Municipal Bldg

Who in the hell puts a “No Loitering” sign directly above a bench? Somebody who works for the city of Raleigh, that’s who. I took this photo at the Municipal Building (a.k.a. “City Hall”), which is across the street from where I used to live. On one hand, the bench says “Have a seat. Relax.” But on the other hand, the sign says “Get the fuck out!”


I suspect what is defined as ‘loitering’ is left to the discretion of Raleigh police officers. People sitting there in the day during lunch: good; homeless people sleeping there at night: bad. The sign gives fair notice to potential violators should they take the risk of camping out there overnight. The homeless are a sturdy lot here in Raleigh. They can seemingly sleep anywhere and often do.

I think there are hidden reasons for that sign. However, on the surface, the sign juxtaposed against the bench sends an odd and mixed message and looks silly.

Joint Custody

Every week, I had the Babies 3 or 4 days a week while my mom had them for the rest of the week. I would pick up the Babies on Thursday or Friday and keep them on the weekend. On Monday or Tuesday, I would take the Babies to my mom’s. The Babies loved the arrangement. They loved going bye-bye so they were thrilled on the car trips. They would also love seeing people they haven’t seen in a while. These reunions excited them. When they entered my mom’s house, they would hustle through the kitchen to see who was there and what had happened while they were gone. They had a presence about them and commanded attention from those in the house. Their joy and happiness were infectious.


The Babies were not upset when I left without them. They loved my mom and had a lot of catching up to do. Besides, they had over 1.5 acres of yard, a big ranch style home and a 30ft pool to play in. They were in doggy heaven.

I needed the time to clean my condo without any encumbrances from some neurotic dogs petrified of the vacuum cleaner. I gave my place a thorough cleaning. I vacuumed, mopped, dusted and cleaned the bathrooms. I had a day or two to enjoy the cleanliness before entropy incarnate returned to my condo. While the Babies were at my place, my mom had opportunity to clean her place without worrying about scaring the hell out of Andy.

Sometimes when I arrived at my mom’s, I’d see them in the front yard playing. I forgot how good they looked. They were so strong and vibrant. Just watching them play was fun. I wasn’t the only one who liked looking at them. There were neighbors who would slow down considerably as they passed by and gazed up at the Babies playing. The Babies were so carefree. People liked looking at them.

Occassioinally, the Babies would see my car and race around to the side where the driveway was. By the time I made it to the top of the hill, they would be rounding the corner to the side and galloping at full speed. Their faces had smiles on them. I’d play with the Babies out front and greet my family. After an hour, it was time to go home. I’d say the magic words and they would scramble to the side door: “Do you want to go bye-bye?” They almost never turned me down.

On the first walk in the park after they had spent time with my mom, I had to allow for an extra 5 to 10 minutes for the Babies to take that walk. They had to catch up on what had happened at the park. They would closely smell the area trying to figure out who had been there and what they had done.

Some dogs struggle to find one good home to live in. The Babies had two.

Living in a Snow Globe

Living in a small condo with two large dogs that shed all the time was like living in a snow globe. The anal retentive, OCD and neat freaks should not own Labradors. These dogs seemingly shed all year round. It was as if they took turns shedding. On some weeks, I’d see the slight orangeish hair on the floor from when Abby shed. On others, I’d see the white hairs from Andy.


I’d try sweeping up the hairs but it was a poor substitute for the Hoover vacuum cleaner. I had hoped sweeping would take care of the dog hair but it didn’t. The Babies were not nearly as scared of the broom as they were of the vacuum. Abby tolerated the vacuum but Andy was terrified of it. In a larger place such as my mom’s, I’d put Andy in a room in the back while I vacuumed in the rest of the house. However, in a small place, shifting Andy around was impossible.

I grew accustomed to having the hair around me. It was a price I paid to have the Babies with me. I had to find a way to clean my place for the sake of sanitation and hygiene. A further incentive for me to clean was to avoid dog hairs piercing through my skin on the bottom of my feet. It hurt like hell when that happened. The hair felt like a tiny shard of glass ripped into my foot. I’d have to go in a dark place and shine a light on my foot to find the small strand of hair. Then, I would use tweezers to pluck the hair out.

Mrs. Bligh

(Names were changed to protect the not-so-innocent.)

An older couple lived a few doors down from me, the Blighs. The wife was a busy-body if there ever was one. She hated dogs and told me so herself. Whenever the babies passed by her, she would press up against the wall as hard as she could. You’d think I had a pack of wolves on my leash the way that woman reacted.




Her “welcoming present” to me was her slipping a copy of the HOA rules under my door the 2nd day I was there. She told me she did it by asking “Did you see the note I slipped under your door?” There is nothing like a warm reception and a welcome home than a busy-body passive-aggressively ordering you around by slamming the HOA rules on you the first week you are there.



She did her best to change and enforce the by-rules concerning pets. She wanted the dog owners to go out the south end of the building which meant we would have to walk down an alley that had no sidewalks. Those assholes came close to hitting me in the parking lot. There was no way in hell I was going to take a chance at one of those self-entitled snots take a swipe at me in that alley. None of the dog owners obeyed that rule except for Pout Face and Pussy Whipped.



Then Mrs. Bligh cornered me one day and wanted me to vacuum the carpet in front of my door. I told her we had a cleaning service for the building. That wasn’t enough for her. I could still hear her nasally Long Island accent saying “how about cleaning that up.” God damn if that woman wasn’t a piece of work.



Within a couple of years, she moved. I couldn’t have been happier. I found out later that she sued a neighbor for a Halloween party next to her condo. The other guy, Miss Piggy’s owner, told her beforehand that he was going to have a party. Mrs. Bligh said the party would disturb her with all the noise. Piggy’s owner offered to put Mrs. Bligh up for a night two blocks up at the Holiday Inn. Mrs. Bligh refused. The party went on. Supposedly a suit followed. I don’t know how it turned out.



I was glad to see her go. Good riddance.

Laws and Law School in the First Year

In the first year of law school, students don’t learn that many “laws.” When I say “laws”, I mean statutes. Sure, 1L’s will have a heap of common law and caselaw thrown on them, but black-letter laws are somewhat sparse.




I saw a few statutes in civpro and intellectual property. We also saw a bit of the UCC in contracts, but technically, the UCC is not “law”, but it is the foundation for many state laws.



I suppose law professors find it more important to teach us critical thinking skills and “how to think like a lawyer” as opposed to remembering black-letter law.

Miss Piggy

A neighbor two doors down from me had a 12 year old terrier. I think she was a Miniature Schnauzer, but I’m not sure. She had a grey coat and weighed no more than 20 lbs. She seemingly had a constant, pouty scowl on her face, but it looked cute on her. Her name was Miss Piggy. She would live to 20 and died the same year Abby did, 2009. She was nice enough to me and Abby, but she hated Andy with a passion.




Piggy’s attitude was a clear deviation to how the ladies treated him. Normally, females loved Andy. Even though Andy was a gelding, they still wanted to be his girlfriend. Andy wanted nothing to do with them. Abby was the only one he loved. All the other dogs, male or female, he disliked.



I took special precautions whenever Andy was around other dogs. He didn’t want to socialize with them so I had to make sure they were kept at bay from him. Sometimes dog-owners would be a little miffed; tough shit. What was I supposed to do, tell them that my dog was anti-social and a little crazy?



Piggy would give Andy hell each time she saw him when we first moved in. Andy would growl and snap back at her. Andy couldn’t fight worth a shit, so I didn’t worry about him mauling Miss Piggy who Andy considerably outsized. Piggy’s owner knew Andy was a little squirrely. Eventually Andy and Piggy reached a détente and ignored each other as they passed by.



At these times, I was able to gossip with the owner about the goings-on at Park Deveruex. The guy was a dying breed at our condo—he was one of the few original owners from when the complex first opened up in 2000. He had a little pull with the HOA board even though he didn’t sit on it. Dog owners needed someone on their side.



If there is one thing a person should know about HOA boards, dog-haters always find a way to sit on them. They consequently make life miserable for dog-owners.

Netscape! For Real?

Who in the hell still uses Netscape?! I can’t believe there are still people out there who use Netscape. I know this because on the “Stats” feature on Blogger, one category lists visitors by what browser they are using. I was surprised to see “Netscape” a few days.




It felt like an anachronism taking me back to the mid 90’s when I first started surfing the net. My school used Netscape at the time. I spent many hours aimlessly wandering the electronic wonderland. It was so much fun. I quickly learned there were some freaks out there.



One night, WRAL broadcasted a story warning us about the seedy things on the internet such as pornography. “I hadn’t thought of that”, I said to myself. So, the first thing I did when I went back to school later that night or the next day was to search on either Prodigy or Yahoo: “XXX.” I hit the mother lode! There was so much porn, most of it free.



I would eventually get a computer myself and plug in to the internet. I was 28 when I had my first computer. It was over $2000 for a mid-line model. I think it was a Packard-Bell. Of all the browsers I used, I did not use Netscape. I received enticements from several ISP’s: “40 hours free”, “100 hours free” or even “1000 hours free”. Getting access to an ISP was like robbing a bank; getting in was the easy part, getting out was damned near impossible.



Those guys would make disconnecting so difficult. The only to cancel was to call. They would not accept cancellations by email, mail or any other way. And the wait-time for the cancellation call went over 2 hours for one server, and I still didn’t get through to anyone. I had to cancel my credit card to get the ISP to drop me.



It was nice to see Netscape again. Somebody has to be the last to have shag carpet. Somebody has to be the last to use a Walkman. And I guess somebody has to be the last to use Netscape.