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07.14.2003 - 6:11 p.m.


JB and I spent some quality time together this weekend flinging shit over a wall. No, I don't mean in some metaphorical sense where we air our grievances and mutually dispose of them Dr. Phil style. I mean literal shit, literal wall.

It was kind of fun, this shit-flinging. See, I'm talking about dog shit, which is really gross and horrible if you accidentally step in some*, but when it's merrily winging through the air (away from you = key) becomes a Brown Missile of Hilarity.

(I kind of want to just casually drop this topic now, leaving you with the impression we find turd-tossing a deeply appealing activity in and of itself. But really, that's gross.)

Every now and then JB performs what he calls "log patrol", where he goes through the backyard seeking out Dog poop. A while ago, we had some poop-eating receptacle that supposedly dissolved the poops you would dump in there. But we didn't put the right enzymes in it, or something, because it stopped eating the poop (no! bad googler! you leave now!) and rapidly became filled with an unspeakable horror and I got scared of it becoming sentient somehow, maybe through radioactive waste seepage, and one night lurching to life under a cold bright moon, cackling its wet laugh, heading to the single pane of light from our bedroom...driven by the force of a thousand poops!

So! Log patrol! Log patrol is where JB uses a shovel to pick up a poop, then using a mighty lifting motion, propels the poop up and over our fence, to land harmlessly in the large snarl of blackberry bushes that separates the end of our backyard from the parking area for an apartment building. It's not a place I recommend you go berry picking in August, is what I'm saying.

Sunday we were out in the yard, sweating over an ambitious planting project, and JB did some log patrol. Except he was maybe tired from all the digging, because a large percentage of the poops did not fly over the fence as intended. Instead, they hit the fence with a comical "thock!" and bounced back to the ground.

People. I don't know what the deal was, but this had me doubled over trying not to wet myself laughing. Each "thock!" just made it worse.

Me: "Dude! Heeeeee! You need more liftage!"
JB: "I know! (thock!) I don't know what my (thock!) problem is."
Me: "Try going overhand."
JB: "Okay." (heave) (thockthockthock!)
Me: "Ha ha ha ha ha HAAAAAAAAA!"

Later, when I was weeding, I came across a dried out whitish pile of poops. I eyeballed them. Gingerly, I picked one up (shut up, I was wearing gloves), and tossed it over the fence. "Nice!" JB said approvingly. I found another pile.

Me: "Wheee!" (flinging the turd as hard as possible)
Fence: "THOCK!"
Me: "Dammit."

So really, if you ever feel like your weekend doesn't pass muster when you're chatting around the water cooler on Monday morning or whatever, just take pride in the fact you did NOT spend time doing what we did. Seriously. I am totally ashamed.


*Years ago, I had this enormously painful crush on a boy named Eric. He was so dreamy, with his green flight jacket and 14-hole oxblood Docs, you know? Anyway, he gave me a ride home once. We're driving along, and slowly, the unmistakable aroma of dog shit began filling the car. I surreptitiously peeked at my feet, turning my shoes to the side. Horrified, I realized *I* was the one with the shit on their shoe. It had even smeared a good amount into his floormat. I turned to look at him, completely saturated with embarrassment - then I saw he was doing the same thing, peering worriedly down at his shoes. I absolutely exploded with nervous laughter and practically had to ask for a paper bag to breathe in. God, it was awful. I think he made me clean the floormat.

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4 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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