And You Thought Your Monday Was Rough

Warning: If you are my grandparent, business contact, or easily offended in general, you may want to stop reading now so I don’t offend you.

Seriously. The following post is awful. I should probably be ashamed of myself for even writing it. Click away while you have the chance.

Now, who’s still with me? Let the good times roll!

I’ve written before about some of the worst things I’ve ever seen. For example, I once had my car splattered with rancid chicken parts on the highway. Then there was the time I watched a bridesmaid drink a cup of tobacco spit.

So, yeah, daily life for me is pretty much like the movie Saw.

In other words, ADORABLE.

But, today, I swear. I kid you not. I witnessed one of the most horrifying situations in my life.

I had just wrapped up another high intensity workout. And by “high intensity workout” I mean I ran barely fast enough to get a few droplets of sweat to appear on my forehead while watching The X-Files reruns via Netflix on my iPhone. Watching David Duchovny is all the cardio activity I need.

And then there’s this guy. Hubba hubba!

Don’t judge me.

So anyway, I finished my workout and headed for the exit. But as soon as I stepped out the door, a smell so powerful hit me in the face that I thought there might possibly be a demon in my midst. Upon further inspection, I noticed a pile of excrement on the sidewalk right in front of the entrance. “Nice,” I thought. “Some jerk let his Pomeranian doodoo on the sidewalk and didn’t bother to clean it up.”


It smelled more foul than a gym bag full of used football pads and deviled eggs left in a car on a hot sunny day.

There was one main pile, and then a couple of additional little plops as though the dog had been in a rush and didn’t have time to stop. But there was something about this poo that made me nervous. I can’t tell you why, but I had this undefinable feeling that it seemed vaguely…human.

I continued to my car, but stopped in my tracks when I saw him. The pooper.

It was an old man. He had poop running out of his shorts, down his leg and all over his shoe. He was stomping the ground and flinging his foot around the way one does when trying to get excess mud off one’s shoes before getting in the car. But it wasn’t mud.

Honestly, I felt bad for the guy. I shudder to think about the day when I can no longer control my bowels. I’ll be 30 next year. Who knows what might happen?

I said nothing. I got into my car and drove.

But then I started thinking… What if someone steps in the poo on the way into the entrance? Then, there’s a chance they could track it all over the gym. They could get poo on the treadmills. Poo on the free weights. This situation had the potential to turn into a disaster! I had to take action to save my fellow gym mates, and myself, from a veritable poo nightmare.

I called the gym. Here’s a transcript of how it went:

Me: Hello. I’m not sure how to tell you this without offending you, but here goes. You have human feces on the sidewalk in front of the entrance.

Gal at the Counter: What?

Me: Um, you see there was this man. He had an…accident…in front of the entrance.


Me: It’s poop. On the sidewalk.

Gal at the Counter: Wha- what? The sidewalk?

Me: Yes. And I wanted to let you know, because I’m just afraid someone will step in it and track it all over the gym. so, I thought maybe you could get a hose and rinse it off.

Gal at the Counter (in a very grave voice): I don’t even know what to do.

Me: Well, hopefully you can find a hose.

Gal at the Counter (now sounding like she might cry): Uh huh…

Me: And, well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.

Gal at the Counter: Thanks. Bye.

So, how was your Monday?


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