The Contract, Updated

So apparently the non-scooping-poo policy is also in effect when it's raining. The rain is even worse than the snow in some ways, because those unclaimed turds start to partially disintegrate immediately, and it makes them blend in with leaves and shit like that. This camo technique ups the chance of them getting stepped on, according to my studies.

I'm starting to think there needs to be a more severe fine (I'm not even sure there's a fine enforced at all, actually) for this anti-social behavior. I propose that the person who catches you neglecting to pick up your dog's feces gets to pick up said feces (with your gloves or unused plastic bags) and gets one throw, from 10 paces, to hit either you or the dog with the steaming turds.

It's fair, and it would be great to watch. I'd be hiding in the bushes around here, ready to leap out and start throwin' poop.

The Social Contract, Ignored

When it snowed a few feet here last month, everyone got a little lazy and started to ignore some of society's conventions...garbage cans weren't emptied, so trash just kinda piled up around them. Parking your car just somewhere near the curb (fully parallel or not) was acceptable. Work was disregarded, ignored, even mocked by many. And I was ok with all of these things. It's how we survived in such tough times.

But I refuse to look the other way in regards to one segment of society that flouted the rules: Dog People.

For some reason, Dog People (and you asshats know who you are) decided that since there was snow on the ground, it was ok to stop picking up their dog's poop. I guess since said poop was now resting on a 2-foot snowbank, as opposed to the sidewalk, the Dog People figured it was ok to let it sit. After all, nobody would be walking up there, right?

Wrong. See, snow melts. Poo doesn't. So when the snow melted, the poo drifted down to the sidewalk, where all the non-Dog People are now stepping in it. I've seen more smashed poop on the street in the last 3 weeks than I've seen in years. Walking to work every day is like wading through a stink-laced mine field.

As payback, I've been staring—intently—at everyone I see walking their dog. They know what that stare means. If they don't have a plastic bag at the ready, I stare even harder, and sometimes I mutter under my breath.

So there. Pick up the poop or you'll get an angry muttering stare.

The Bench

So here's the doodoo bench. I went back and took a photo the other day, about a week after I first saw it, and the dookey hadn't really worn away at all. You can also see where it dripped through the bench and burned into the blacktop below. Gross!

I like to tell myself that I landed on the 2nd half of the bench (I was approaching from the left), but I'm probably just trying to ignore the fact that I slid my board through that nasty stain. At least the board broke later.

Anybody who was wondering whether I made that shit up now knows it's true. Doodoo for days.

Scheduled Departures

It's been at least 2 days since I've written about body waste, so I figured I'm overdue. In more ways than one, as it turns out...

Most mornings I wake up, start the coffeemaker, stare at said coffeemaker until its liquid gold is ready, take a tentative first sip, and immediately feel the rumblings of the Morning Movement.

Now, this is a great thing. I'm a huge fan of the restroom regularity (all alliteration today, folks). Most days I'm good for two trips to the, um, 'Water Closet'. No need for prunes, metamucil, nothing. A little caffeine and I'm good to go.

But some days (like today, dammit), I get off my schedule. Maybe I'm on the phone for awhile right after work (I can't really mix Movements and a phone conversation-both require my full attention), or I go out for happy hour or whatever. But something gets me off. And once I miss my window, all hope is lost for a return to the promised land. It's like my innards are mad at me for forgetting about our Special Time, and they decide to punish me by raising the drawbridge for awhile.

Caffeine? Nothing. Chocolate? Greasy Food? No help. Prunes? I don't think those are an immediate help—they're more like a long-term plan, right? Either way, I don't have any, and the stores around me are all closed, so they're out.

There's always the Nuclear Option, also known as Ex-Laxx. But I'm worried that's the intestinal equivalent of ripping the throttle off a train. The conductor might not be able to stop the speeding locomotive that's sure to follow.

So I guess I'll have to wait for morning, but I'm not happy about it. It's like going to bed without dinner or something; the whole night feels weird, and I'm all fidgety and kinda angry. Hope everyone else is having better luck keeping the trains running on time.

For the Record

To clear this up for everyone, I'm NOT the lurker...this isn't supposed to be my interweb home b/c i'm a lurker. It's just a name that I think is funny. If you get confused about my lurker/non-lurker status, check the 'About Me' section of the blog, located over on the right side.

I do have an alley behind my apartment, and it is prime lurking territory, which is why it's easy for a guy to poop back there without getting caught. He also stores stolen loot back there, which i can see from my window. So i get poo, stolen stereos (pictured), golf clubs, and even a cash register one time (with the receipt tape unwinding down the alley). And I own my place, so I have to someday try to convince somebody else to buy this place with its killer view.

My other window is 1 inch away from somebody's parking spot, so half the time there's a car blocking most of the window, and the other half of the time it's a concrete lot. It sucks, for sure, but way, way better than looking at poo.

1st post, yo.

As if there wasn't already enough crap on the interwebs, i figured it's time for me to start a blog. Now, here at Lurker Alley, you'd best not expect lucid, well-formed, educational posts. More likely it'll be random rants about topics like 'The guy who uses my alley for a toilet' (more on that later), and 'What to do when the cable guy releases his breakfast burrito during a service call.' And probably other topics that are not poo-related.

But first, a definition of a Lurker: according to wikipedia, it's someone who reads a message board but never posts. I didn't know this before i picked the name. To be honest, I could care less that there are people who do that. They're pretty harmless.

In true lurker world, it's that guy who poops in your alley, then hangs out and stands around his creation for a little bit; it's the stinky dude who peers through the fence at the playground for 3 hours with a hand in his pocket. Basically, it's the creepy dirtbag that you want to spray with Raid. You've seen him. You know him. And now he has a home, here at Lurker Alley.