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As I’ve gotten older, my spectrum of what I enjoy has changed. 24-year-old me would parlay a Friday Happy Hour into a night out and a groggy arrival for my 11 a.m. tee time mere minutes before our group had the first tee honors. 29-year-old me purposely books an 8 a.m. tee time on Saturday to handcuff myself from doing anything Friday night and providing an airtight excuse to not show my face anywhere on Friday night. In my perceived reality I need an excuse that’s legitimate to provide any acquaintances that pass along a social invitation. The reality is that a group text message receipt of “Goin to Happy Hour, anyone is welcome to join” isn’t exactly a plea for for my presence, but merely a disclosure from one of my friends to hedge their bets that if one of us did see them out, it wasn’t a shady venture. That’s what friends are for. Accepting white lies with good intentions.
You’re probably wondering how this all ties into the previously mentioned bag of dog shit, and we’re almost there. In my elder years, I would like to think I’ve matured and started to care how I present myself. I spend more time than I’d care to admit picking out my attire, especially for golf. I don’t want to win any fashion awards on the course, but the last thing I need to be thinking about is how much my man cans are popping in my polo. Few realizations are more humbling than only being able to wear a certain few designers of clothing that can adequately match your physique. I haven’t worn a white golf shirt since it was required for my Catholic elementary school uniform.
My increased awareness in how I present myself has carried over to my yard. I cut the grass fairly intoxicated a few weeks ago, and it was a spiritual experience. I also realized why my dad used to spend the majority of his weekends at the house when I was growing up doing “yard work.” Having a nicely manicured yard is a great way of establishing yourself as the mental Alpha of the neighborhood. In my head, sweet old Gladys tells her card group about how she always sees the handsome young man down the street taking care of his yard. In reality, Gladys has never even seen my house or yard due to her cataracts. In my head, the college girl that’s home for the summer and walking her dog is subtlety digging the way I’m creating mow lines that would make an MLB grounds crew weep in admiration. In reality, she hasn’t noticed me and is deciding if the caption “Love being able to go on walks with this one” is too basic for her Boomerang.
Back to the poo. The way my house is set up, there is a ledge over the front porch that faces the street. It’s a nice little ledge. To the naked eye, it would be a good spot to post up a couple lawn chairs with a few coldies and schmerk a bewrl Workaholics style. I explored the idea one time, but the first step I took onto the ledge resulted in a frightening noise. It probably didn’t help that I exuded the grace and dexterity of Kevin Malone carrying a pot of chili. I tell friends that we can’t go out there because the house is old, not because I peed my pants a little bit trying to get out there and swore it off forever.
The other day as I opened the curtains to windows that overlook the porch, I noticed a fluorescent pink bag. Upon further inspection, I realized I was now the millennial version of Old Man Clemons, and someone threw a bag of doggie doo doo on my porch. The positioning of the bag is just cruel as well. It’s on a corner of the porch that is unreachable from the lower level, and too far to reach from the window with a broom. It may as well be the summit of Everest.
What is more concerning for me is the intent of the slinger of poo. I have a dog, but she is in the twilight of her career and only poops in our back yard. We rarely take her for walks because she just sits down after a few steps. So I’ve ruled out a neighbor thinking it is our waste. I have a good relationship with my immediate neighbors, and neither of them have dogs.
I’ve deduced that it was one of two scenarios. The first being the garbage men had a displaced bag as they were making the rounds and one of them decided to throw it on my ledge with the precision of Greg Maddux in his prime.
The second scenario, and more likely situation in my estimation, is that one of the married male neighbors I have chucked the dueces. His wife was probably making passive remarks about how their yard was looking sloppy, and he had enough. He saw the opportunity, and honestly I respect it. An aggressive first move, but there are no mixed signals here.
In conclusion, I just spoiled the first episode of True Detective Season 3..
Respond
I’ll tell you who it was, it was that damned Sasquatch!
This is an act of war. Also, friendly reminder to everyone out there picking up poo….don’t. You’re putting a natural, degradable thing into a non-degradable bag….let that poo fertilize the ground like it’s meant to. Picking up poop is just a way for some corporation to make money off of you, Nevid can explain more.
“I’m gonna leave this hear, it’s actually good for your yard!” -me to my neighbors down the street while my german shepherd drops a basketball sized load in their front yard
Thanks, 19th….you folks, corporations have suffocated the citizenry to the point of near revolt. They hide behind the government and the church in order to make people feel “safe” when in reality they are sucking you dryer than a parched prostitute in the red light district of the Vegas Strip who can’t afford oxy…ever wonder why you spend 65% of your life’s time at a place owned by a corporation just to pay for the house you live in that is owned by yet another corporation? Oh, btw, retirement and healthcare are a nice little carrot dangler lol
Actually dog poop is full of disease and parasites so your doing the neigborhood a favor by picking it up. If it’s that big of a deal just reuse your grocery bags for that purpose
Oh yeah, I know all the facts, I was just messing around but I appreciate the concern and the recycling tip. I always forget we can’t discuss dogs/dog poop on this site
Our park has degradable dog bags. PGPM
You’re
He called the shit, poo!
Don’t put it out with your boot, Ted!
*poop
Smithers513 and I are the exact same person. I have a neighbor who (in my paranoid mind) is maliciously mowing over the lot line to steal some of my land. Would love to hear your thoughts on how to address this. My wife thinks I am absolutely insane for letting it bother me this much.
Make your grass the greenest, most luscious grass in the hood and mow it to a specific height that just so happens to be a bit higher than your neighbor mows it. Or just be like the asshole that lived next to me when I was growing up and get some flowerbed bordering bricks and bury it along the wrong property line for him to mow over and fuck up his mower blade. Fuck you Terry.
In this case you’d want your grass a tad shorter than your neighbor so if he runs over it it doesn’t do anything. But also the greenest, thickest sauce on the block will make him jealous — they’ll correspond with your respective dome fuzz.
Old man Clemens hates shit!!
Wasn’t me.
C’mon, guys. With a title like this, you guys are just asking for it. Maybe it was me who left that bag – I mean, I have an endless supply of poop that just won’t leave my you know what since I had tons of beef burritos for breakfast! I’ve been on the toilet ALL DAY trying to clean up this oil spill.
Grandex. Please?
This is a shitty comment
It was the Vaginator. Just ignore him and he’ll get bored and go back to TFM.
I appreciate that someone else also check’s on TFM. Fond memories.
Can’t understand how that dipshit hasn’t gotten banned from TFM already. I get it’s intended to be a cesspool, but he’s not even funny.
I wonder what would happen if I migrated over to TFM in order to reach a younger demographic…
I agree. On the one hand I could see him being a really great character, like when TFM went through that period where high schoolers were submitting posts – he could bring to life the high school kid “frat star” persona, like how other accounts were created as different characters over the years. On the other hand, though, he does get what he’s looking for over there. Idk. It’s really vulgar though.
Yeah in retrospect the shitty comment was in and of itself a shitty comment.