Because my neighbor raises bull terriers. I’m not a fan of the Spuds McKenzie dog. They’re stupid, mean, not cuddly, and unfriendly. Bull terriers are about the most uninteresting breed of dog I’ve ever encountered, and I’ve been around pugs.

Anyway, I think they’re a little scary, too. My neighbor once had to be taken to the emergency room when two of her terriers went at each other – they shredded her hands, like two chicken tacos. Another one killed a puppy that was walking down the road during a cookout. Not only does the breed have Cujo-like qualities, but she spoils and indulges the animals, too. To me, that’s a recipe for disaster. Fortunately (for me and Miss Budina), she keeps ‘em fenced in the backyard.

And that’s why, as I was walking in my driveway to my car yesterday, I was less than thrilled to see one of the animals at my feet. But the fun really began when the bugger jumped into my car as I was getting in, and refused to get out. I’m all, “Here, come on, getthefuckoutyouworthlesspieceoffur,” while the dog ignores me and bites the gearshift.

Finally, I just started yelling for my neighbor. It wasn’t easy for THEM to get it out, either. I tried bargaining with the dog. “Seriously, you don’t want a ride. It’s a Neon, and it doesn’t have A/C.”

Finally, it got out. But its stink remained. Lucky me.

The Case Of Mistaken Identity:

I arrived about five minutes late, with the lingering stench of dog wafting behind me.

Tae Kwon Do Soap Opera, short version – my main instructor, who we will call Ralph, used to train under this one Old Skool Dude, who we will call Mr. Miagi. Ralph: very laid back and nice. Mr. Miagi: Well, he doesn’t call me grasshopper or make me wax cars or anything, but you can tell he likes to think of himself as tough but fair. He does some things with which I very much don’t agree, but for the most part, I like him.

Anyway, the two of them were like father and son, and then had a falling out, and were estranged for ages. There was a recent reconciliation, and now Mr. Miagi sits in and helps out with classes occasionally. Which makes Ralph very nervous – he starts enforcing these rules none of us have ever heard of, and it’s honestly a little funny. I like Ralph, and try to make him look good, but it isn’t always easy.

I come waltzing in late, and Ralph’s all, “I didn’t give you permission to enter!” And I’m like, “Huh?” (Usually, I mosey on in.) So he makes me kneel by the door or something, and I’m sure I was wearing my bestest “The fuh?” face the whole time.

Finally, class is underway, and I’m paired up with the black belt kid… eh, about 11 or 12 years old, I’d say. Short blond hair and freckles. He and I are doing these one-step sparring drills, and Mr. Miagi is coming around, correcting and suggesting.

And Mr. Miagi says something off, and I try to clarify by referencing my sparring partner, saying, “Well, he’s doing this - ”

And they both look at me funny, and Mr. Miagi goes, “HE?”

I’d been working with a girl.

I felt so, so bad.

I don’t even know how you apologize for It’s Pat Syndrome. Hallmark doesn’t make a card, and I’ve never seen Miss Manners give guidance. I just said I was sorry.

Later in the class, though, she’s talking to me about the other kids or something (I think she’s a bit of a scapegoat), and says something about how they call her a boy. I must have given her a stricken look, because she goes, “They do it to be mean. I know you weren’t…”

So, I think I’m forgiven. I still have the taste of foot in my mouth, though.