Last weekend I was using the ample weekend to get some crap done around the house. My list included sitting around in my jammies and watching tv, sitting around in my pjs and playing video games, humping your mom, and cleaning up all the leaves in the yard. Every year the goddamned trees make like two girls with one cup and shit all over my yard. Except none of the trees has the decency to eat their leavings, the sanctimonious, prudish bastards.
So there I am, out in the yard with the leafblower cleaning up tree shit when what should I find when I blow away a pile of leaves? Real shit. Turns out our yard is the high-traffic interstate interchange of the neighborhood. Cats can quickly go from one side of the neghborhood to the other by cutting through our yard, and apparently, squat a monster kibble-log while they’re at it. Which makes my yard remarkably similar to the Baltimore beltway, now that I think about it.
And so I stand there, staring at this revolting tootsie roll of foods past, and think to myself, “Fuck if I’m cleaning up that shit.” So with all the grace and skill of a ninja brain-surgeon I blow a single leaf, bright-red-side up, over the poop like the leaf is one of nature’s own traffic cones. “Watch out! Don’t drive there! There’s doody under that!” I guess that’s the analogy I’m making. Whatever. Shut your stupid face-hole.
I go back to blowing leaves around, blowing air under piles of leaves so that the tops of the piles don’t move but the other side of the pile explodes with deciduous detritus; or making little tornadoes of leaves in the wind that would give that freaky kid from American Beauty a raging hard-on, and then suddenly: more turds.
These were a bit more substantial, and definitely hadn’t originated from a cat. Or, if they had originated from a cat, that cat was probably pushing close to 50 pounds and was making it’s way around on a miniature Rascal. In that case, the cat wouldn’t have been able to make it through the gaps in the fence, so it’s highly unlikely. Also, I’m pretty sure they don’t make tiny Rascals. And cats probably lack the currency or insurance policy to be able to afford one. While pondering tiny cats on electric three-wheeled scooters I blew another leaf on top of the lawn land-mine and fancied myself the Princess Diana of my backyard.
I finished the leaves in the middle of the yard and began to concentrate on the edges, and like before, I was quickly interrupted by more shit. I was hardly phased at all this time; I just flicked the leafblower towards a stray leaf and deftly marked the offending area.
But this leaf-covering solution is just a stop-gap measure. The only reason I was cleaning up the leaves is because I needed to mow the lawn. And if I mow the lawn with the yard-bombs still intact I’ll splatter-paint the inside of my lawnmower like Jackson Pollock after a Chipotle Grilled Stuft Burrito at Taco Bell. Oh, and by the way Taco Bell, could you really not afford all the letters it takes to spell “stuffed”? Or were you trying to ride the ridiculous wave to Web 2.0 glory, acting like you’re the flickr of the fast food world? Well I’ve got news for you douches: the only wave you’re riding is the brown wave of the feces tsunami erupting from your customer’s backsides after they make a cheek-clenching dash to the closest bathroom, trashcan, or Taco Bell drive-through. I hate you.
So I’m at an impasse. I don’t even like seeing my OWN shit, so I’m not really at all excited about cleaning up something else’s shit. Which is why the shit is still in the yard and the lawn will be mowed in the spring.
Don’t most leafblowers have the ability to become yard vacuums as well? You could slurp up the offending turds and simply drop the entire thing off at your local power tool repair center and claim that “it’s acting weird” and let them deal with it.
Alternatively, borrow a power washer and have yourself a solo game of turd polo. See how far out on the street you can wash each turd.
Failing THAT, I’m sure there’s a “Mr. Squat-n-Shovel” around town that would do it for a nominal fee. Or ask a local teenager, and tell them that you’ll supply them with the paper bag and a lighter, they just have to fill the bag themselves.
With two dogs to make my leaf blowing interesting I just went for the blower powerful enough to blow turds as well as leaves. Makes for a much more pleasant experience.
I don’t know what made me giggle more: monster kibble-log, nature’s traffic cone, or the whole rant about Taco Bell and Jackson Pollock.
On a side note, your yard encounter reminds me of when I was 8 and my florescent pink Silly Putty went missing. We later discovered that our dog ate it from the 80’s day-glo beacon in our front yard. Then, a tennis ball rolled in it. I’ve never looked at Silly Putty or that shade of pink the same way since.
Does anyone use a rake anymore?
So I left the comment on the wrong post - the one right down there. Since “down there” in the previous sentence is not in quotation marks, I am Not talking about my vagina.
Crystal = Not Awesome
So, it isn’t ok that I’ve been taking dumps in your yard? My bad.
I just read something on snopes.com that apparently children are hiding in leaf piles and adults are running the leaf piles over, killing the children. I don’t think it’s on purpose. I think it’s just a thing that happens.
I guess what I’m saying is that maybe there are children pooping in your yard.
Andrew- No WAY am I vacuuming up some shit.
DMC- I’m thinking of getting a flamethrower instead and just scorching the lawn, poop and all.
nic- I’m glad I could make you giggle, though I’m sorry about your silly putty.
Jessica- Rakes are for suckers! Suckers who want to clean poop off their rakes!
Crystal- Ha! I noticed that and was like “omg wtf lol”. I’m glad you now know your place.
Dukie- I was paying you to shit in the neighbor’s yard. Why can’t you get that right?
Stephanie- Yeah, I read that too. I think two kids were just killed recently. Way to finish with a joke though. That was funny.
So, then, am I wrong for just running the mower over everything with the mulching cover in place? Instant manure spreader!
Now, in the backyard, where it’s my own dog at work, I simply rake it all together with the iron rake and use it as landfill in the places where she starts digging holes. Cover it over and the hole is filled permanently, because she won’t dig in the same spot once I’ve filled it in like that.
You just wrote 8 paragraphs about shit in your backyard.
And I read it.
You know what? The shit might not be there in spring. But if it is, it’ll be much more disgusting than it is now, all expanded and spongey.
We here in the Riley household enjoy your posts about poop, as we have a shit-eating dog to contend with. It’s nice to know we’re not alone in our battle against ill-placed feces.
BWAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA!
So glad that I don’t have a lawn. or a dog. BUT–I do have a problem that is entirely urban in nature: Dog owners who do not carry little plastic baggies with them. One of these days I will follow one of the offenders, find out where they live, scoop the poop, stick it in a brown bag, place on doorstep, light it, knock, hide and film for you tube.