Sunday, October 07, 2007
Failed Heroism and the Shrink Rappers Pursue the Perfect Pizza
The Shrink Rappers have a new quest: to find the best pizza in Baltimore. Don't get me wrong, we still like ducks, but this is a culinary adventure.
So, Victor started it: he read about Matthew's Pizza in a Laura Lippman novel. Clinkshrink couldn't wait, she went without us. Roy says Carmine's is the best, and he's currently in Las Vegas trying to win the big bucks to pay for new recording equipment for our My Three Shrinks podcast. We started without him.
So it was a bit of an adventure getting to Matthew's. First there was the parking space issue, and then, as we walked the few blocks to the restaurant, we came across what appeared to be a dead body in front of a church. People sleep on sidewalks on church steps
all the time, this gentleman was in the middle of the sidewalk. Clink asked him if he was okay, and as he raised his head, there was a small pool of blood on the concrete. We called for an ambulance, and Clink asked the man a few questions, she had him move all his extremities, he seemed coherent, and Clink was relieved that he didn't seem to be one of her patient/inmates. He said he'd been jumped and someone tried to take his money. The blood was coming from a small laceration on his forehead and it seemed to have stopped bleeding. I called his wife.
"I'm looking for..." oops. Excuse me, sir, what's your name?
"I'm looking for John's wife (not his real name)."
"I'm his EX-WIFE." I told her we'd found him, that he seemed to be okay, that the paramedics were here wrapping his wound, that he'd been mugged and hit his head and was going to be taken to a hospital.
"He had too much to drink," she said. And judging by the smell of things, she may have been right.
My second attempt to be a hero this weekend happened when I was walking with Max. We were far from home on a quiet road when we met a wet, slightly bedraggled little dog standing in the middle of the street. I guess I think that when people or dogs actually belong somewhere, they move towards the curb. I would have assumed he lived there, but I looked at his tag and it gave an address that was miles away. Poor little thing. I tethered him onto Max's leash and walked around the block to a friend's house. Their kitchen door was open, so I walked in with two dogs in tow, and asked for a phone.
The tag identified the dog as Louis Vuitton Adams. This is his real name, I've decided that anyone who names their dog Loius Vuitton should expect to find their pet on someone's blog. That's the Adams' dog, I was told. Apparently his owners have divorced and the address on the tag is the ex-wife's address.
I thought I was rescuing a dog, instead I had stolen one.
So Matthew's Pizza was wonderful. When Roy comes back, we'll try Carmine's. If he's lost all his money, it's okay, ClinkShrink will treat. If you know of any great Pizza places you'd like to us to try, please write in. I'm up for a pizza project.
Oh, was this supposed to have something to do with psychiatry?