Oh you know who you are. You have two dogs, both midget-like. You have one on a leash and have been cradling the other one like a puppy for almost two years. Time to take that one off the nipple sir. Dairy’s closed.
You have another annoying habit. Whether rain, sleet, snow or the Nor’Easter we just had, you’re always wearing shorts. And your legs are scrawny. Nobody needs to see that, especially at 7:00 AM. Clearer if it’s you? Maybe this will bring it home.
Every time I walk through the lobby and past the doorman’s station with my dog, you clutch both of your fidgets as if they’re being threatened, Don’t worry dude. Mine is quite current on all shots. I can submit her vaccination records if need be. And if and when I pass you are your mutts on the street (rare) you do the same thing like my dog has rabies. My dog doesn’t have rabies. But she does have a friendly streak and a tail that’s always wagging. That means she’s happy. Yours look over-mothered and miserable.
But here’s the real identifying quality. You talk nonstop about the Philadelphia Eagles like you’re actually on the team. Questioning calls, workshopping trades, debating penalties. Guess what.
YOU’RE NOT ON THE TEAM.
Plus anyone that was on the team wouldn’t be wearing shorts and carrying two fee-fee dogs.
But all of this is not why I judge you. I find it offensive you assume a doorman has nothing better to do nor any interests beyond a football field. I see them nod a lot when listening to you as you don’t allow them to speak. Now I talked to the night doorman once and the topic of discussion was the NASDAQ.
Final fault. Talking is like a tennis match. When the ball is in your court it’s yours to do whatever you wish with it. But you have to eventually hit it over the net and toward the other player so they can do whatever they want to do with it. In tennis terms, that’s called a rally. In human terms, that’s called a conversation. The doorman’s station is not a talk show and if it was you’d not be the only guest.
So just for me, stop talking, stop herding your mutts and for goodness sake put some godforsaken clothes on.