Monday, December 04, 2006
10:28 a.m.

We have all had that sinking feeling, followed by a sudden wave of embarrassment, that we just stepped in a giant pile of dog shit. Unless we are so lucky as to have someone else notice it first – that’s always fun.

One time Stacy and I were in Bill’s Wheel’s in Salinas, looking around at shoes, boards, maybe some new trucks… Yeah, like we skated. So among the myriad street rats, grommets (us), and skaters, there was this hippy chick and her giant dog. Who the hell brings a dog into Bill’s Wheels, let alone a GIANT dog? Seriously. It was lumbering around, sniffing and doing what dogs do. Naturally, the giant dog took a giant dump in the shoe section. And guess who stepped in that giant dump? I am thoroughly convinced that these fucking bear traps left out by fate are set just for me, like the K-Mart concession stand on Friday, for example. On that note, DON’T EAT AT K-MART. EVER. I’m sure most of you don’t need to be told. Anyway, when I realized that  I was slipping around in a large mass of fecal matter, now entrenched further into my treads and oozing around my shoe, I didn’t know where to direct my rage: at the stupid hippy for bringing her stupid shit-bomb dog into the store, or the retarded clerk at Bill’s Wheels for letting her bring the stupid shit-bomb dog into the store.

As I was contemplating the most inconspicuous way to clean off my shoe, we were approached by this asshole we used to hang out with (**** *******, remember Stacy?). I don’t have time to thoroughly express why he was so annoying. I think **** had the idea that he was going to nail Stacy, which never happened because my girls have standards. Anyway, awkward conversation was exchanged, I think. I wasn’t paying attention; I was probably too busy trying to hide/surreptitiously wipe off my shitty shoe and resenting **** and Stacy for having the wherewithal to engage in uncomfortable banter while I just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

That was about 10 years ago. Today, my supervisor and I went to drop off a company vehicle for maintenance. On our way back, I couldn’t shake the smell of dog shit in the car. I looked cautiously at the side of each shoe and found nothing. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I should be checking more thoroughly. My supervisor commented on it. “What are you doing?” “Nothing, I just…well…it smells like maybe I stepped in…something…maybe?” “Did you step in dog shit?” “I hope not.” So then I started thinking, what if it’s not me? How do you ask that? “So how was your weekend? Do anything fun? Think you stepped in dog shit?” So I chose to obsess the remainder of the trip.

The point of this nonsensical ramble, my friends, is that I did not step in anything! I, for once, have dodged the trap that I inevitably step in. Some days, you just have to appreciate life.

I am grateful that a) I didn’t step in dog shit; b) I must have a decent life if stepping in dog shit is on my top 10 list of worries; c) I haven’t yet been fired for writing blogs on company time. My mood is slowly improving.

P.S. What is wrong with my colors?