Whatever happened to lipstick on the collar? I have a shit streak on my shirt!
So, last night we borrowed mimisarebel's dog, Sheba. The dog is pushing 10 and has been on barbituates for about 5 years for a seizure disorder. Consequently, she is the most chilled out dog on the planet. She used to sleep over when we lived in Squirrel Hill all the time and loved it, so we thought it was about time we introduced her to the new house.
We did the usual last night. I fell asleep kinda early and had a nightmare about the Steelers losing. In the morning, the baby came in and started pulling on my face to convince me to go make him breakfast. Then he said, "Did you poop your bed?" This troubled me. I insisted that, no, I had not pooped in my bed but the baby then asked, "Did Sheba poop your bed?" I assured him that Sheba couldn't have pooped in the bed because I would have been aware of it. "Well, what's that, then?" asked the baby. I finally sat up and was greeted by a large, round skidmark on the side of my fitted sheet. "What the fuck?" I wondered aloud. I figured that Sheba had gone out to poop during the night and sort of brushed up against the bed before things had had a chance to, um, dry. Gross, but no big deal. The boyfriend got up to take Sheba out and I heard him talking to frankjglazer downstairs, who had passed out on the couch last night. Apparently, Sheba had taken a shit in the dining room in the middle of the night and the shit was so potent that it woke Frank up and urged him to pick the poop up. Man, that sucks, we all agreed but laughed it off and chalked it up to Sheba being a little unnerved by her new surroundings.
So, I ask you, how long does it take for a dog to get nerved?
Pretty long, it turns out. Frank, the baby, and I sat in the living room and played/watched a movie/checked the internet/drank coffee. After a while, I took the baby upstairs to use the bathroom. We made it to the top of the stairs and I just happened to glance over to the small front bedroom and saw about 5 or 6 humungous turds scattered on the floor. I told the boyfriend, who had snuck upstairs to take a nap, that his dog had shit in the little bedroom and that he needed to work on cleaning up. After the baby went to the bathroom, I took him into his room to get dressed. After a few minutes, I felt something cold and squishy on the bottom of my right leg. It appeared that Sheba had had a small bout of diarrhea and had left several drops of it on my son's bedroom floor. Even better, I had stepped in it several times and had gotten a chunk on my pajama leg which had transferred itself to my leg. I screamed, "Fuuuuuuuuuuck! I have fucking shit on my leg!" and told the boyfriend that he better get me the fucking carpet steamer ready because his fucking dog had dysentery. The boyfriend began bitching about how he needed a nap and that me going to bed early had caused the dog's explosive asstronics. Whatever. Much bitching ensued until we convinced Mim to come up and help us with her dog.
After that had been cleared up, I decided to take a shower for the first time in my new house (previous showers during the week had been taken at Mim's and my mom's house due to a shower curtain mishap that I'll tell you about later). The boyfriend had told me about some dirt on the bathroom walls being released by the steam but I didn't really realize what he was talking about until I saw it firsthand.
Let me digress slightly and say that the newest addition to my hate list are people who smoke inside their houses. I know that I was guilty of this before but let me assure you that it is fucking disgusting, whether you rent or own or mooch or whatever.
Near the end of my shower, I looked up and saw what must have been nicotine and smoke residue released by the steam. Large, brownish-yellow droplets had formed on the ceiling and were occassionally dropping into the shower or running down the walls. I gagged and finished up my shower. I closed the door to keep the steam in and recruited Frank to help me with the ShopVac. We attached the wet suction thing and set up a rickety step ladder. Much to my surprise, the bathroom is white and not candlelight yellow like I had thought when I bought the place.
Barf.
After that was accomplished, I went into the baby's room and picked up Gok, his stuffed dog, only to find that Sheba had left a surprise for me on the beloved Gok.
Here we go, Steelers!
We did the usual last night. I fell asleep kinda early and had a nightmare about the Steelers losing. In the morning, the baby came in and started pulling on my face to convince me to go make him breakfast. Then he said, "Did you poop your bed?" This troubled me. I insisted that, no, I had not pooped in my bed but the baby then asked, "Did Sheba poop your bed?" I assured him that Sheba couldn't have pooped in the bed because I would have been aware of it. "Well, what's that, then?" asked the baby. I finally sat up and was greeted by a large, round skidmark on the side of my fitted sheet. "What the fuck?" I wondered aloud. I figured that Sheba had gone out to poop during the night and sort of brushed up against the bed before things had had a chance to, um, dry. Gross, but no big deal. The boyfriend got up to take Sheba out and I heard him talking to frankjglazer downstairs, who had passed out on the couch last night. Apparently, Sheba had taken a shit in the dining room in the middle of the night and the shit was so potent that it woke Frank up and urged him to pick the poop up. Man, that sucks, we all agreed but laughed it off and chalked it up to Sheba being a little unnerved by her new surroundings.
So, I ask you, how long does it take for a dog to get nerved?
Pretty long, it turns out. Frank, the baby, and I sat in the living room and played/watched a movie/checked the internet/drank coffee. After a while, I took the baby upstairs to use the bathroom. We made it to the top of the stairs and I just happened to glance over to the small front bedroom and saw about 5 or 6 humungous turds scattered on the floor. I told the boyfriend, who had snuck upstairs to take a nap, that his dog had shit in the little bedroom and that he needed to work on cleaning up. After the baby went to the bathroom, I took him into his room to get dressed. After a few minutes, I felt something cold and squishy on the bottom of my right leg. It appeared that Sheba had had a small bout of diarrhea and had left several drops of it on my son's bedroom floor. Even better, I had stepped in it several times and had gotten a chunk on my pajama leg which had transferred itself to my leg. I screamed, "Fuuuuuuuuuuck! I have fucking shit on my leg!" and told the boyfriend that he better get me the fucking carpet steamer ready because his fucking dog had dysentery. The boyfriend began bitching about how he needed a nap and that me going to bed early had caused the dog's explosive asstronics. Whatever. Much bitching ensued until we convinced Mim to come up and help us with her dog.
After that had been cleared up, I decided to take a shower for the first time in my new house (previous showers during the week had been taken at Mim's and my mom's house due to a shower curtain mishap that I'll tell you about later). The boyfriend had told me about some dirt on the bathroom walls being released by the steam but I didn't really realize what he was talking about until I saw it firsthand.
Let me digress slightly and say that the newest addition to my hate list are people who smoke inside their houses. I know that I was guilty of this before but let me assure you that it is fucking disgusting, whether you rent or own or mooch or whatever.
Near the end of my shower, I looked up and saw what must have been nicotine and smoke residue released by the steam. Large, brownish-yellow droplets had formed on the ceiling and were occassionally dropping into the shower or running down the walls. I gagged and finished up my shower. I closed the door to keep the steam in and recruited Frank to help me with the ShopVac. We attached the wet suction thing and set up a rickety step ladder. Much to my surprise, the bathroom is white and not candlelight yellow like I had thought when I bought the place.
Barf.
After that was accomplished, I went into the baby's room and picked up Gok, his stuffed dog, only to find that Sheba had left a surprise for me on the beloved Gok.
Here we go, Steelers!