We met over a steaming pile of turds. . .
You- old woman who looked like a broomstick with a bad weave- who said to me mid-scoop "you shouldn't let your dog do that (poop), he should do it over there (points to middle of street)"
I just wanted to say I should've gotten your phone number, but I was just too angry to ask. You see, I felt a real connection between us. The audacity of an old bag to yell at my (4 pound puppy nonetheless) dog for shitting, having the shit picked up and then properly thrown away, overwhelmed me with rage. And I like to surround myself with petty, trite people that fill me with rage. My shrink says it's 'constructive.'
So how about this, give me your number and the next time my dog needs to take a shit I'll drop you a line, come over, and let him shit in your wrinkled crusty mouth.
- Location: 17th St.
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests