i gotta say about the idiot in the alley, mister. oh yeah, thas a good one( i don't even know what you are talking about). i know, right? so there's this big gut in the alley in flip flops and plastic bag bulging says you get your dog(?)or somethin', and i say pardon me? get your dog? i say what are you talking about, what do you mean? he says, he's free. i say that means nothing, he ain't even looking at you. well he could be. and you could be packing a pistol- go on, pass, idiot, go head on. and we proceed down the gangway munching on a cookie. i hear him yell you got your dog? nope, i say. you best stay put. he's standing there out of sight behind the new rich indian you know real  indian from india i think neighbor's garage. you got your dog? nope, he's gone get you! and we chuckle and finish off our cookie. then i see the new rich indian on the front porch looking down like he's been listening and i pretend it don't mean nothing, though it means a lot to me that i ain't got time nor inclination to explain, suffice it to say, i get a little kick out of these interchanges. welcome to our fair city.