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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: The Dogman Only Bites Once And It Really Smarts

October 13, 2011

It had been two decades since I had woken up in a strange hotel in Michigan.  My pretty, little cousin was getting married to a swell guy in a couple of days and I was there for moral support, awkward hugs and plenty of booze.

I was hungry so I went downstairs to sample the complimentary nosh in the hotel lobby.  I had a blueberry yogurt and an apple, but it wasn’t long before I realized that women’s breakfast was not going to get me very far.  I needed coffee, and fast.  The problem was, Michigan hates coffee and I was running out of  patience and gum.

If I found myself in one more coffee joint, asking the waitress why my water tastes like coffee, I was going to go nuts, but I had more important things to worry about; The Dogman was out there and somehow I doubt his taste in people was as particular as mine in coffee.

I was not really sure if the legend of the infamous Michigan Dogman was real or not, all I knew is I did not want to take any chances and wind up dead, or worse, with all of my shoes chewed up and damp pillow stuffing everywhere.

My search for not lousy coffee led me to a joint called Tiny Boots, which explained all of those tiny boots and the smell.  I could feel the local patrons’ eyes on me the minute I walked in and I could tell that it was the kind of place where they would rip the new line Target hoodie right off of your back, so I ordered and drank up fast, then I gave the waitress a tip and she gave me one, “Stay away from The Dogman and the meatloaf.”

The helpful advice from the waitress was appreciated, but Michigan is a strange place; it’s the kind of place where you may or may not run into someone who may or may not mistake you for someone who may or may not have touched their penis twenty-one years ago and where you are likely to be given a Bloody Mary, a bottle opener from a haunted washroom to keep for a few days, and a balance bracelet all in the same evening.  Dogmen and questionable meatloaf seemed to be the least of my worries.

I was knee deep in pre-wedding functions and for someone as socially inept as me, that only meant one thing, the top score on the punching machine was eight-hundred and I was punching a seventy-one.  And I packed too many dresses and not enough appropriate footwear and I don’t know very much about ferns.

The wedding day eventually came and went, my pretty, little cousin was married by the power of Greyskull and a couple of days later, I hopped a flight home.  I never did cross paths with The Dogman, but I did run across an unusually large squirrel and a decent cup of coffee.


I am attaching  Que Sera Sera performed by Sly and The Family Stone for you, and naturally, The Dogman to enjoy.




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8 Responses to “ Notes From A Walkman Junkie: The Dogman Only Bites Once And It Really Smarts ”

  1. Jackson on October 13, 2011 at 10:23 am

    Of all the blog joints in all the towns in all the world, she writes into mine…

    “Carlotta was the kind of town where they spell trouble T-R-U-B-I-L, and if you try to correct them, they kill you.” — Rigby Reardon

    I think Mr. Bogart and Mr. Martin would be proud.

  2. Nat Almirall on October 13, 2011 at 12:15 pm

    Boner. (Apparently “boner” was too short to qualify as a legitimate comment, so disregard this explanation.)

  3. Allie on October 13, 2011 at 3:10 pm

    Had you only arrived in MI one week prior, you could have been an ‘extra’ on the set of ‘Legend of the Dogman’. Good times…kind of.

  4. anncine on October 13, 2011 at 3:28 pm

    Damn, I miss all of the good stuff.

  5. Robert on October 13, 2011 at 6:18 pm

    An account worthy of film noire. Or a light episode of Supernatural. Was the large squirrel holding the coffee? That part was a little ambiguous.

  6. anncine on October 13, 2011 at 9:09 pm

    Don’t be ridiculous, squirrels don’t drink coffee. I am nothing if not practical in my posts.

  7. P3 on October 13, 2011 at 10:43 pm

    The Dogman man may be ferrell, but he is no match for an Almirall, especially not one junked up on coffee – and possibly sporting shoes to kill. I can see the movie.


    A dogman howls in the mist, his Ferrell cries echoing across the predawn Michigan wood.

    CUT TO:

    SHOES, good ones, female, clipping along the sidewalk of smalltown Michigan.


    How does one get a goddamm good cup of coffee in this town?

  8. anncine on October 14, 2011 at 7:38 am

    I don’t know about you, but I would watch the shit out of that film.