| The poop story. |
| (I'm putting this here, for all of you who didn't get to read or hear the poop story.) A couple of weeks ago, I came home from "school" in a very good mood. There was't any real reason why, I just felt A-OK. I walked into the side door and was greeted by the fragrant aroma of DOG SHIT. Bob is getting kinda broken in his old age, and he can't always wait until sombody comes home to let his drunk-walking ass outside. So he decided to use the indoor toilet (ie. the kitchen floor) Ahh.. the wonders of modern plumbing. And, it isn't like he just went in one place either. He, like, walked all over the kitchen as he was pooing. If you are still reading this, here is the interesting part. One of the poops I had to pick up had somthing sticking out of it. Bob in his infinite wisdom, tried to eat a plastic bag. -Correction, he ate a plastic bag, he just didn't digest it. I overlooked the symbolism of the poop waiting for me when I returned home and cleaned it up. It didn't even ruin my day (now, don't get me wrong here, I don't exactly enjoy picking up dog doo). Lesson: If you deal with the poop that life craps onto your kitchen floor, you can still be happy and go watch some TV. At least, that's what I got out of it. I don't know. I guess that deep down, I hope you all care about the shit in my life. (pun intended.) actually... i just want to gross a few people out. |