Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Excuse me, can you clean up after your SUV?

So I was walking both dogs up Gloria Street, home of Walter, the schnauzer with the really stupid owner, when Lucy decided to heed the call of nature ... the kind of call that requires cleanup. I'm zealous about cleaning up after my dogs--it really pisses me off when people don't clean up what their dogs leave in my yard. (Hello visiting family of the lady next door ... I know you're letting your obese little corgi crap in my yard.) I always have plastic bags, so I whipped one out of my dog-gear tummy pack, made the cleanup and then continued up the street, depositing the bag full of nature's call into someone's curbside trash cart.

Then I turned the corner onto Watts St., and a moment later a WASPy guy in an SUV rolled up to the intersection. He called out the window to me "Excuse me, are you going to be going back by the house with the picket fence?" What? I thought. "What?" I said. He repeated the question. What? I thought again "I don't know. Why?" I asked. "Well can you please pick up after your dog?" he said.

OK, that really fcking pissed me the fck off. What had I just done? I was ready to go fish the bag of shit out of the trash cart and throw it through the window of his luxury gas guzzler. "I just picked up after my dog and threw it in the trash can" I yelled ... I think I was starting to walk toward him. I must have looked pissed or something, because he just suddenly said "Thank you," hit the gas (spewing forth plenty of carbon emissions), and sped off.

Wait a minute, I thought, I'm not done with you, motherfrakker. Seriously, it really pissed me off that he just assumed whatever pile of crap he must have seen was left by my dogs. What about Walter, the schnauzer whose retarded owner can't figure out how to latch her screen door. He lives right across the street--could he have crapped in your yard, dude? Damn, now I'm thinking that if I weren't so lazy I'd go back, get the bag of little Lucy dog turds and tack them to his door with a note ... well I'm not even sure what the note would say.

I was going to write something like "what is it with the asstards in my neighborhood?" but then I remembered that Christa has drive-by cranks, too. And the other Lisa lives next to the loud family that leaves their poor dog out in the rain. So I guess they're everywhere.

3 comments:

christa said...

some people aren't happy unless they're making other people miserable.

we had some guy call us up at the station today and complain that we played a particular piece of music too often. with our database near at hand, we informed him that we only played it once a month. still, he complained.

the conversation went on a while longer, with the caller insisting that we needed to take far more care with our programming, when finally a suggestion was made that perhaps he should find another station to listen to if ours displeases him so much. at this point he launched into obscenity, saying "fuck you! fuck your radio station!" a litany of profanity spewed forth, and he finally hung up.

i mean, what the...?? it's *radio*, dude. it's not like we're dictating foreign policy or something. sheesh. take a chill pill.

anyway. sorry. had to vent.

andrew said...

Now didn't you once comment on my blog that individual acts of terrorism are self-defeating and only undermine the revolution? I think that nailing a sack o' crap to SUV driver's door is such an act.

But if you did decide to do it I would gladly hold your bag of nails.

Lisa B. said...

Thanks for venting, Christa. Your vents are welcome here any time. That's too funny. Just curious--what piece was he complaining about?

My drive-by complainer picked a legit topic (I complain about the same thing), but dude, IT WASN'T MY DOG SHIT! Sheesh!