Bedbugs and Ballyhoo

My neighborhood is under some sort of poop siege. Three of my neighbors are in this ridiculous war over whose dog is pooping in everyone’s yard. Or rather, which neighbor isn’t picking up after their dog, and honestly, who the hell cares? It’s the pit bull, and we all know it, for we see him relieving himself all over the neighborhood on a daily basis. Can we all move on?

Except no, we cannot move on. Someone is picking up a bunch of dog poop in the neighborhood and randomly leaving it on doorsteps overnight with a note that says, “Is this your poop, asshole?” Because nothing says “Good morning!” like a giant Publix bag full of someone else’s dog’s poop, asshole! It would be better if they at least had the creativity and drive to light it on fire or something, like a poop bomb, but no! It’s just a bag of poop with a note. And I think I know who it is, but everyone thinks it’s a different person, and so the bag, it has been passed around angrily, and filled on top of the old poop, and by now the poop just has to be gross, just GROSS. I mean, even grosser than it was the first time. Because it’s old. Old dog poop in a bag, what a wonder of delight!

I have yet to receive the Asshole Bag, because I’m pretty diligent about picking up the poop. However, Sunny pooped three times on one walk tonight – TWICE – and I ran out of bags after poop two – BOTH TIMES – and really, I wouldn’t be surprised if the steaming Asshole Bag appears on my doorstep tomorrow, because even though I tried to run like hell (the first time) and mask the event by shouting loudly (the second time): “Sunny, it looks like you pooped, but you DID NOT ACTUALLY POOP! What’s going on with that? Why didn’t you poop? Why did you squat and not poop, silly girl?” Meanwhile, she totally pooped, but maybe the yelling distracted someone into thinking it was innocent? Maybe? Or maybe I’ll just get a steamy bag in the morning. No one is sure.

Honestly, other people’s dog poop really doesn’t faze me, but I do get my knickers in a wad when I’m strolling down the sidewalk, only to be greeted by a giant pile of steaming dog poop in the middle of where my precious feets touch down, because really? They can’t pick it up off the sidewalk? And whose dog doesn’t prefer to poop on grass? Kick it to the side! Get it out of the way! MOVE THE POOP.

I actually can’t believe when this is over that I am actually going to hit ‘publish’ because my God, we have resorted to dog poop, and general rambling with absolutely no common theme and/or purpose, but the Asshole Bag, it looms large.

The lack of activity, common theme or continuity is because we’re still sick and extremely drugged. Sick, extremely drugged and breathing through our mouths, which is just about the most unattractive thing a person can do. Mouthbreathers wear polyester turtlenecks and forget to shower and usually have pencil erasers hanging in their hair, but today, I am a mouthbreather, except I am not wearing polyester, although my pants do have a certain synthetic quality to them. But – BUT! – I am on lots and lots of Robitussin (well, Wal-Tussin, if I’m being honest, because I am apparently cheap) and tomorrow I can almost guarantee that I will forget to shower and I might have hunks of Kleenex hanging in my hair, which might count and also resemble eraser bits.

Incidentally, I woke myself up approximately 11 times this morning with my incredibly loud Snores of Honk – I kept hearing this loud, horrible horking sort of honky noise and I assumed (oh God) that there was a piece of construction equipment digging into the bathroom. And of course, I ran in there to find out if someone was excavating our bathtub, because why else would there be some sort of warning horn in our bed? They were ripping out the bathtub, and I need that bathtub, if only for the precious steam it gives off to bring forth the snot to its rightful place outside my body. And when I discovered the bathtub wholly intact, my relief was indescribable! Just indescribable joy at the sight of a whole bathtub! My excitement was short-lived, however, given that I had awakened Adam, who heard the honking, and asked me to leave the room in the form of prodding elbows, heavy sighs and loving pillow-punching in an attempt to get me to roll over and quell the honking.

And so I slept in the guest room, where I will likely begin my evening tonight. But I will be in fancy pajamas, honking my pants off.

And uh, oh my God, I actually hit ‘publish’ and this is just so, so awful. I’m so sorry. I should have thought better of this, but I am on drugs and cannot be held responsible for my actions.

*Echo and the Bunnymen

**We changed her food and she had a little bit of an issue. And I TOTALLY would go back and pick it up, except that it’s dark and I can’t find it, honest. I deserve the steaming bag. I do. ::hangs head::

20 comments November 28th, 2006