life theory #431

(warning: this post may be explicit and offensive. or just gross.)

one of my life's theories is that every conversation, if you let it go long enough, will somehow, eventually, relate back to poop. i know this due to lots, and lots, of research (aka quietly observing). try it, you'll see. just let conversations run their natural course... they either peter out, or turn to poop (literally or figuratively). this is an especially true phenomenon with people that have kids, babies in particular. and those of us with dogs.

speaking of dogs, and poop... (which go hand in hand in my world...) i have a funny story to share with you (since it's been a while)

a few weeks ago, it was christmas eve. and the weather here in denver, well, it was nice. so nice, in fact, that i planned a "meeting" (really a date, but he called it a first meeting) with this guy i'd been emailing with online (we'd been matched on eharmony on a free weekend). he lives southernly far, far away, and was driving to a northernly far, far away place in colorado, and he was going through denver. we decided it would be a good chance to meet, and the fact that it was christmas eve, on a nice weathery day, well, that was just icing on the cake.

so we decided to meet at wash park, a good dog-walking, public place, teaming with activity even on a holiday eve. we found each other easily, and walked and talked for about twenty minutes or so, when one of my pups had to 'go'. nothing more romantic than using your own hand to pick up your pet's poop in an inside-out walmart grocery bag and then carrying it around, right? this is stuff first dates are made of.

so we continued walking, and i had the poop bag in my left hand the whole time. of course, it moved around a lot when the dogs pulled or lunged at other dogs and such. how do i know that? well, about half way through our walk, eharm date turns to me and says, 'what's all over your jeans?' and i look down and see, on my left side, a series of marks that look like dirt, from about mid-thigh all the way up to mid waist. on my jeans, on my white vest and my purple scarf. i think, 'hm. well it can't be poop, the poop's in the bag.' i look at the bag. doesn't look like much, just a bag. full of poop.

i look a little closer. ahHA- the culprit! a small hole on the side of the bag, which apparently the poop seeped out of, and onto my said jeans, vest and scarf. every time i moved my arm across my body, the bag left a little skid mark of poop across my jeans, vest and scarf.

awesome.

needless to say, it was an awkward end to the date, especially when he went in for a hug and i staggered backwards, saying 'ohhhh, i don't think that's a good idea.' 'oh yeah, the poop!' he remembered. i got in my car and sped home to change, because i had to meet L at lunch with her sister. of course, i had to text her to inform her that i would be a few minutes late, since i had to do some (unplanned) freshening up for our lunch date.

(that's all the poop in this story, but it does get better...)

so i arrive to our lunch date, only a few minutes late (secretly i was proud of myself for this!) i was wearing a whole new outfit, leggings and a sweater dress, something that was lunch and christmas-eve-church-service appropriate, since i had to run from lunch to family festivities.

i greeted L, and her sister, and we waited a few minutes outside, then went to sit down inside. we all three took our seats at the booth, and chatted and looked over the menus. as my diet coke came, i put my gum in a straw wrapper and placed it on the corner of the table. i then went to move my left leg and shift my weight, and found that i felt caught on the seat. i wondered if there was a nail or something caught on my leggings, so i stood up and turned around to inspect my rear end.

gum. icy blue, chewy, sticky, minty fresh gum.

stuck to the booth seat, stuck to my leggings, stuck to my sweater. as i stood up, it stretched longer and longer but didn't break. i had to grab a napkin and pull both ends, from the booth and my leggings, and pull it apart.

the waitress came up about this time, looking absolutely mortified. 'is that GUM?'
'yep'.
'was that there when you sat down?'
'well, mine is on the table, in a wrapper, and i didn't come with gum on my butt, so...'
the busser came over and offered to help, which was a little awkward since the gum was on my butt.
'i'm so sorry! this must be my fault, i must not have cleaned the bench!'
'it's ok, i've already been covered in poop earlier today!'

in reality, it wasn't as sarcastic as it sounded, it was in fact downright hilarious! who gets covered in poop AND gum on the same day, in two different outfits? i do.

and, the staff at the restaurant were so very kind: the waitress, busser, two managers, bartender and other waitress all came up to apologize profusely and offered us shots, drinks, deals, even a date (the waitress said the busser would take me out to dinner to make up for the gum he apparently didn't clean up. i told her i'd say yes, he just had to ask me himself.)

(he never did).

moral of the story: if you ever want out of a date, bring a bag of poop. if you ever want a free shot or drink at restaurant, sit in gum. and if you're me, start planning an extra ten minutes between every activity just in case you have to go home and change your outfit. for the third time.

it was a glorious holiday :)

one of the lil' pooper's rear ends, sticking out from under my bed. she's lucky she's so cute....