And, oh, the poop bags I have used today....

I can't find a marketing communications job, so I've been bartending, working temp shifts in factories that OSHA doesn't seem to visit, and generally doing almost anything to make a buck. Lately, I've had some dog walking gigs. Today I walked two Newfoundlands, 2 Westies, 1 Weimaraner, 2 Viszlas, a pit bull, and a cat. Except for the cat, all were pullers. My arms are still in their sockets, but barely. The Newfies were the toughest. I should have hitched them to a sled--I could be miles away right now, perhaps in a place where there are still marketing communications jobs. At one point, I was walking them around Como Lake, or, as some people call it, Lake Como, and stopped to shake sand out of my shoe. The Newfies decided to head over across the street and investigate a bird on a lamp post in the median. I managed to snatch up my shoe as they dragged me, hopping on one foot, across the street. I forgot all of my dog commands, and found myself yelling "Whoa!" to no avail. I slid to a landing on my kiester and ended up at the base of the lamp post with my legs in the air. It was a beautiful day here in the Land of No Marketing Communications Jobs, 70s and sunny, so half of the people in the Twin Cities were out walking around Como Lake (or Lake Como) and all of them, every single one of them, laughed at me as I sprawled on the median and two Newfoundlands licked my head. On the way home it occurred to me, Jeez, I had the rapt attention of all of those people--I should have passed out business cards.