Unfortunately, it seems like not all people in this world share the same passion for dogs that I do. Hundreds upon thousands of dogs are abandoned each year and end up either dead or in shelters, and many more suffer at the hands of neglectful or abusive owners. Fortunately, we have organizations such as the SPCA around to speak out and help these animals. However, it’s recently come to my attention that not all shelters treat certain breeds of dogs the same.
For the first time on CBS's reality show Undercover Boss, an elected official will
become publicly embarrassed after realizing no one recognizes him go incognito to see first-hand what kind of work his employees do on a day-to-day basis. Cincinnati's Mayor Mark Mallory will be donning some D.L. Hughley dreadlocks, face pelts and a fat suit to get down and dirty with some regular folks.
As their press release so eloquently puts it, “2008’s ‘Best New Bar in Cincinnati’ slowly died three weeks ago, and no one seemed to notice. From being consistently full of thirsty bohemian patrons and hosting national up-and-coming bands (Vampire Weekend played a week before their debut on SNL) to a potted-plant-ridden empty mess—The Gypsy Hut’s rise and fall was about as meteoric as MC Hammer’s. … Luckily, two devoted Northsiders have been working feverishly to reopen and restore the bar to its former glory and more.”
Leafing through the latest edition of The New Yorker I was greeted with the Dolce & Gabbana ad at the right, which features actor/professional narcissist Matthew McConaughey with his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, waxed chest exposed for all to ogle. I have one question for the marketing peeps at D&G: Is this image supposed to entice me to buy your cologne, dubbed The One, which is described as a "fragrance for men"?
As someone who was born and raised in Cincinnati, I naturally spent my whole life wanting to get the hell out of here.
I hated that there was nothing to do on Friday nights except go to the movies, bake cookies or eat lettuce wraps at PF Changs. I hated the schizo weather (70 and sunny one day, 30 and snowing the next: just another week in Ohio). I hated the predominantly conservative mindset, the maddening monotonity of the suburbs, the city’s aversion to all things new and different. I hated that you only had to drive 10 minutes in any direction to land in a sea of cornfields. And I hated Cincinnati’s dangerous proximity to Kentucky, where odious mullets and high-waisted denim shorts continue their ruthless and tyrannical reign.
In short, I pretty much spent my entire life blaming my unfortunate geographic placement for all my problems. So when it came time for college applications, it was a no-brainer: I submitted my test scores, sappy personal essays and record of every nap I took in calculus to seven out-of-state schools — and just one in-state school.
His name has been altered to protect his identity.
D. Cross was just like any ordinary man with an online profile. He uploaded pictures of his spring break trip to Panama City, complete with tags of his new found friends that he met while intoxicated with the sweet sin of Homo sapien love. His friend count started to rise every day, getting poked left and right from people that live in his city and people that went to the same graduate school. D. Cross was on top of the internet social networking world!
Ah, the spring has sprung and days are growing longer. No more depressing winter cold invading our souls and sucking our lives away as we nap into the afternoon. The imprint in my bed will soon start to rise and my silhouette will disappear. Winter fades into the past and mid-terms or finals come to an end, meaning only one thing: It is finally Spring Break! The ultimate unsupervised vacation for minors and the equally immature freshman in college.
Fall makes me want to get all bundled up to go poking around outside to look at natural things like changing leaves. My roommate just went up to Circleville for the annual pumpkin festival which inspired me to have some wholesome fall fun of my own. I made two of my friends wake up earlier than they wanted to on a Sunday morning so we could trek out to Milford and go to Rouster's Apple House.
Saturday Ian and I played Nintendo Wii for about 8 hours straight. No joke. I was just warming up my arm for ping pong that night. To get our game faces on we all decided to have a pizza party to fill our tummies to the brim with prime protein and pure ping pong nutrition! Then it was off to the Gypsy Hut to start scouting the talent on the table. I am a regular customer to the Gypsy Hut ping pong table so I have seen most of the faces that occupy the Ping Pong Party Plaza.
The past three years I have been Batman for Halloween. It was always an easy choice; just throw on some thermals, put on a jock strap and head out the door with the utility belt as a wallet and road dog holder.