The Initiation of the Neighborhood Dog Poop Watch

I'd like a redo


The other day as I walk mindlessly in the grocery store next to my apartment, occupying myself by pretending I actually need to go grocery shopping, I spot a nice chunk of mud on the side of my bunion toe, squishing between my new red Dorothy sandals and my improperly manicured big toe nail. My first instinct, which I regrettably followed, was to wipe off the mud with my fingers — why not touch the mysterious black gob on your foot as your simultaneously prod the habanero peppers for ultimate freshness? Oh, that’s right, because it’s definitely a hunk of a dog shit now smeared all over my forefingers and up into my nail crevices as if I’d been mincing up shit flavored garlic.

Obviously, as an attempt to appear less materialistic in the super local, plastic-is-the-devil, doesn’t-carry-jiffy-peanut-butter market next door, I didn’t bring my purse which consistently has at…

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