I only started liking dogs last year. And this, mind you, newfound appreciation comes on the heels of many years being near dogs.

These dogs are cool. And soft. One of them barks at me regularly, but ... still soft.

Some people, like me, warm up to people before animals. Granted, these dogs are better than most people, but the former sentiment has been around longer than the latter.

Which brings me to the events of Saturday. For reasons of social media sharing, I am NOT going to go full detail into everything this man said to my coworkers and me on Saturday night.

A drunk man came out of the ether and up to the hot dog cart outside the bar. He ordered a hot dog and proceeded to eat it in a disturbingly maniacal manner. Bites from the front. From the side. Like a taco. Like a burger. Bites from the bottom. It was a mess.

He wipes himself off, straightens himself off and tries to come to the door. 

This eating extravaganza lasted 20 minutes, so I give him the benefit of the doubt. He doesn't look drunk, and he's been eating. 

"Can I see your ID?"

"No, you may not you (rhymes with ducking maggot)."

And like that, he was told he could no longer enter the building.

It is beyond me why he would be so rude to an employee of an establishment he waited so long to enter. Only to insult the very person he needed not to insult.

But he doesn't stop at me. He goes after Peanut, Hunter, MoHawk, but stops short of Face.

Which got me thinking. Let's see if he can piss off the guy way worse than me to piss off.

"How do you feel about the military?" I said.

"Nothing but respect."

"What about people who own Jeeps?"

"Jeeps are good cars."

"What about dogs, do you hate dogs?"

"No, I love dogs. Do you want to see a picture?"

So I walked over, and he showed me pictures of his dog. 

"She's adorable."

"Yes. 

Asshole."

Dude? I thought we had a reprieve. He later kicked the door after I told him he couldn't get inside at 2:15 in the morning to charge his phone. He waited outside for two hours because he was "waiting for a friend." After the bar closed only he and the hot dog vendor remained. What a terrible person.

And sometimes terrible people like dogs. 

Like Hitler. Hitler had a dog. And for more on that, I'd highly suggest watching Norm MacDonald's last special. He even has a bit about IDs!

Fake ID Nos. 366, 367 and 368 were hardly worthy of a lengthy post. Two were fake Michigans, each stylistically different from the other, and the last was an Indiana fake. One of the guys even said, "OK, thanks!" as he walked away. It was unusual.

I also had a chance to turn away the New Year's Eve kamikaze, bringing up some nifty, albeit harrowing, memories.