by Esmeralda Rupp-Spangle
![Diary of a Pet Fiend: Memoirs of a Veterinary Assistant [Part 1]](../../archives-new/29-10/esmeralda.png)
Many, many moons ago (20 years!), when the Earth was still young, I had the opportunity to function as an assistant at a veterinary hospital in Washington state. I’d been hired as a receptionist, but the line became foggier and foggier as months turned into years. Within the first week of being hired, I knew I would have to keep a journal of the absolute madness I had become a part of—so, I did. I would write daily, recording every idiotic decision made by inept owners, every unwisely ingested sock or chocolate bar, every Kamikaze cat, and every curiously amicable turkey vulture (to be fair, there was only one of those)...
by A Concerned Local Music Consumer
This is ridiculous! I understand that some of you social justice warriors will hit me with cookie-cutter, bleeding-heart internet rhetoric about how artists need to be paid and their performances count as labor, but come the fuck on! Ten whole fucking dollars to see some shitty garage band at some bar that already charges ten dollars for a fucking cocktail? Miss me with that shit! I have ticket stubs I bought on eBay for Pink Floyd at Madison Square Garden for five whole dollars in 1973! Do these snot-nosed punks think their barely rehearsed set in some dive bar is worth twice as much as Pink Floyd in the ’70s?! No, I don’t know how inflation works!
The point is, ten dollars is a lot! As I said, that’s like one cocktail. That’s one gas station sandwich. That’s one gallon of gas!
by Elise Fontaine
As I scribble these words, I imagine what it would feel like to be in the arms of Orpheus again. I wonder if he’s half-rotted in Hades. Would his flesh peel off in chunks as we embrace? Would I sip rancid puss in our kiss? He’s dead, after all.
Regardless, we’ll find each other again. We can’t help it. We’re magnetic beyond the constraints of worlds. Truly, the connection I had with Orpheus was stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Even though he’s deceased, the link still feels more intense than any other I’ve had with another human...
by Wombstretcha
I’m not really a dog person.
I like dogs perfectly fine, but, much like children, I don’t care to own one myself. I have a very burly housecat named The Ham™, and he’s independent enough that it’s more-or-less, just like having a roommate who will periodically wake you up with a dead rat in his mouth, which is half his size. Like whoa, okay pal, where’d you get that big fucker? Hopefully, the neighbor’s yard and not mine. Damn. But thanks for paying the rent on time.
However, I’ve recently been charged to look after a discount pug for a couple of days. Its master calls me and says, "Hey, can you look after the discount pug for a week?" You know, dog-sitting. I could do nothing but say, "Uh, yeah, sure." Then I was faced with the question of what to do with such a creature. Well, I had no idea, but I found various things to do with her. You will now be told the tale.
Firstly, to address the question: why is she a discount pug? Does she provide discounts? No, sadly. She merely came to her master at a discount because she doesn’t see very well. Does a pug, discounted or otherwise, really need keen eyesight? Are people taking pugs duck hunting? That sounds like a terrible idea.
So, before discussing what I did during "pug week," let’s go over a few facts...
by Bryan A. Bybee & Barnaby Bandini
Local industry news and events...
Featuring Jossy from Stars Cabaret (Salem)...
by Hannah One Cup
I was at the gas station two days ago and paid $41 to nearly fill up a 10-gallon tank on my car. You do the math on what that equates to per gallon at that point. Anyway, before being at this particular Chevron, I perused the neighborhood for a good 15 minutes, thinking I could outsmart the system by just a few moments and sneak into a pump before prices increased again. But, alas, no. This was as cheap as it got...
