Smoking Turd At A Gas Station
Technically, this human skidmark was still in his car while smoking. With his window rolled down. While he made a 37-point turn to get his car into position at a pump to pump gasoline, a highly flammable liquid, vapor, and industry, into the car he was in that he was smoking inside of. His window was rolled down. At a gas pump. The tank was on the driver's side. CLOSING THE DISTANCE BETWEEN HIS CIGARETTE AND THE PUMP. Which had gas inside of it. And a cigarette in the dumb face of a guy nearby.
The algebraic equation of these ideas that (A) Cigarettes are slow-burning fires and (B) Gas is Flammable works out like this.
A + B = CrapOnFeet could have blown the block way the F up.
Did not seem to phase him. I yelled out my passenger window;
"HEY! You're smoking at a gas station! HEY DUDE! YOU ARE SMOKING! AT A GAS STATION!"
Nothing. Did not hear me. Or did not understand me. Perhaps I should have Farted it in Morse Code? Farted Smoke Signals? Anybody know where I can get an airhorn?
I drove the F away. The gas station was still there this morning. I'm partly sad about a learning moment being missed-out on. I'm happy nobody got hurt, except for that guy. We need to make a law and/or a gigantic sign that says
"SMOKING AT A GAS STATION WILL BLOW THE SHIT OUT OF THIS FUCKING PLACE."
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Human Dog Shit
This morning I went out and got in the truck, and as is the yoozh in our neighborhood, a dude was walking his Rottweiler. In this case, it rang true that Owner Resembled Pet. Rotts aren't real common in our neighborhood because most people are either walking Pugs, Pits (lots of dour, Eastern-bloc'ers in velour), and mutts. But this guy's Rott was easily 95lbs. And was squattin' for a loaf-leave in the area outside our patio marked, clearly:
NO PETS PLEASE
We are anti-dog shit, not anti-pet. But not a lot of snake nor piranha-walking goes on, so it's PETS and we keep the left-behind doglogs to a minimum. So this guy's dog does what dogs do, and doo he did. Here's where the stank comes in.
The guy sees me see the doo get done, fiddles with a little doo-collection baggie, then walks off. SO NOW I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING. Because ShitGuy can't bend over before 8:30am. So as he's walking away, wearing his FDNY hat (I'm positive he's never been a firefighter), sweatshorts and headphones and the smell of Smug, he's already looking for me to stop and say something.
So let's get it straight: He balks at a common courtesy, then gets mugged-up about anybody saying anything about it? Dog Shit in Man Suit, this one's for you.
I roll down my window and say "Excuse me, I see you neglected to pick up after your dog."
ManDogShit: (curtly) "Yeah, I will."
Captain Doo-Not: "We try to keep the area clean because kids play around there, and we all pick up after our pets."
DogManShit: (holier than thou) "Yeah, I'll get it on the way back."
Captain ShitYouNot: "Thank you, we all gotta do our part."
HumanDogAssPoopBreathDivorcedShit: "Right, yeah."
Then I go off to work. And don't think I could not wait to get home and see if there was shit outside my patio! I hoped there'd be shit outside my patio! BIG OLD DOG SHIT PILES OF SHIT!!! Because I was gonna say something about it!
There wasn't. No doo. He picked it up. Or somebody did. Or maybe he hid it somewhere nearby and I can't find it. Mostly it's The Attitude his sphinctered-forth that was a bother.
We all have shit to clean up in life. Shit happens. It's Part Of The Gig. And you know when you have to clean it up, AND NOBODY LIKES BEING TOLD TO CLEAN UP THEIR SHIT...
So don't make somebody have to.
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