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Dung of the Day: Poopi the Clown
As it happens, one of my best friends works at the Key Food on McGuinness Boulevard. A few weeks ago she advised me to check out Newel Street south of Greenpoint Avenue because “it can get pretty funky back there”. She went on to tell me that she saw a Starbucks cup full of dog shit there recently. I suspect I speak for all of us when I say that I am gravely disappointed that she didn’t have her camera with her when she made this discovery.
Yesterday I snooped around Newel and it is quite “funky” indeed. Dog shit is only one of the many ‘treaures’ to be found there. I saw a dead pigeon, a television set from the 70’s, numerous beer bottles, and an array of electronics (computers?) that had the living daylights smashed out of them. Right there on the street. Fascinating.
After some thought, I made my selection for “Dung of the Day”. This little guy not only has character, but he is also situated near the rear exit of the Key Food. This is where my friend takes out the garbage from the deli. I left a little something to say “Hi”.
Everyone give a big warm welcome to Poopi the Clown!
Miss Heather
September 20, 2006 PoopiPoint Presentation
Here it is: my very first PoopiPoint Presentation for all to enjoy. Be sure to check out the accompanying Crap Map too!
Miss Heather
Dung of the Day Epiphany
Last week I saw a piece of dog shit and it has been troubling me ever since. It looked familiar, but I could not for the life of me figure out why. This morning after three cups of coffee and five minutes of Googling, this mystery got solved.
In case you are wondering, the above still is from the movie “Mothra”. Before he (?) became the moth we have grown to know and love, he was a larva. That is what you are seeing in this picture: baby Mothra.
I do not know what disturbs me more, the simple fact that I have this knowledge or that it was not acquired after smoking large amounts of grass. I was in total control of my faculties when I viewed this movie (unlike damned near everyone else I know).
Yeah, I’m a freak.
Miss Heather
Babies
Those of you who reside in or around my ‘hood have probably noticed the recent proliferation of procreation lately. If you do not believe me, go to The Garden (our local grocery store) on any given Saturday or Sunday morning and negotiate the gridlock of SUV-sized baby strollers yourself. It is more than a little annoying.
I do not have anything against babies. While waiting to check out from the grocery store I actually enjoy watching little Timmy suck on a ring pop and then proceed to shove it all the way up his nose. This not only makes the time go by faster, but it gives me the kind of cheap thrill that makes my life bearable. (Both of the the previous points are probably one and the same, but I digress…)
Parents are usually the ones who piss me off. A number of my friends have recently become or will soon be parents. I’m happy for them; they are cool people and will undoubtedly raise cool kids. The world needs good kids raised by parents who love them. On the other hand, the world does not need sappy birth announcements like the one that blighted my mailbox last week:
Our hearts whispered
your name and God answered…
At one glance we loved you
with a thousand hearts…
Unless the information I received in my sex education class was incorrect, I fail to see what god has to do with such things. It is my understanding that child-bearing is a simple matter of biology, not invoking some cosmic hotline for help. If you can’t figure it out on your own, you probably shouldn’t have children in the first place. Simple as that.
Then again, maybe contacting “him†has become an automated/consolidated process like dialing 311. Not only will a courteous operator handle your inquiry, but a licensed expert from Jesus’ Insemination Services Made Manifest (J.I.S.M.M.) will be dispatched to your home where he, turkey-baster/plunger in hand, will help you achieve your reproductive dream. Be sure to demand I.D. from your case-worker, as there are a number of imposters afoot.
The repetitive mention of “hearts†strikes me as being downright creepy. Having a fair amount of pre-Colonial Latin American history under my belt, the phrase “we loved you with a thousand hearts†paints a particularly gruesome picture in my mind. Presuming that each parent has one heart, where did the other 998 come from? Your guess is as good as mine.
In closing, I’d like to make the following suggestions to soon-to-be parents:
- Your childless friends (BTW— we prefer the term child-free) are happy for you.
- We wish you the very best and look forward to being a part of your child’s life, but…
- please leave god and hyperbole out of it. Most of the world’s problems nowadays are firmly grounded in god and hyperbole; there is no need to add fuel to the fire, so to speak.
Having children is a biological function. It is about as mundane as taking a shit: both happen every day, all over the world, in numbers that would stagger the imagination. I will refrain from describing my bowel movements as an act of god (and believe you me, my affection for hot food often renders by-products culled straight out of the Old Testament) if you will be so kind as to return the favor in kind.
Otherwise, I will have not other recourse than to reply to your birth announcements with this.
Miss Heather
Dung of the Day: Jabba The Shitt
I found today’s Dung of the Day while poking around my old nabe (far north Greenpoint). Although I found a bounty of prodigiously large canine bowel movements, I felt this little guy had a certain je nais se quois worth sharing.
Charts, statistics and a Crap Map will be forthcoming.
Miss Heather
Dung of the Day: 110 Green Street
I have never been a big fan of soup with dumplings. Today’s “Dung of the Day” has ensured that this culinary quirk of mine will not change in the foreseeable future. Bon appetit!
Miss Heather
Dung of the Day
I found this cutie pie in my inbox today.
“Fred Sanford” wrote:
I almost stepped on this upstanding turd this morning while in Canarsie, near the intersection of E. 103rd and Flatlands 6th Street. While initially (and understandably) glad that I’d avoided it, closer inspection revealed a particularly well-formed, gravity-defying specimen that I just knew I had to alert you to.
Thanks Fred!
Sincerely,
Aunt Esther
Kibbles and Shits
Today I got my very first reader submission and it is a nice one. “Ash” wrote:
I found this little gem of a composition on Jewel Street, just off of Nassau. The address was probably like 47 or 49 or something around there. I liked the wet cat food nearby… gives it that special something, no?
The date was September 6th. My dog showed no interest, but she rarely shows interest in shit. Which I guess is a blessing.
Yes indeedy.
Miss Heather
September 5, 2006 Dung of the Day
I found this gargantuan pile (?) of shit at 222 Franklin St. Even I would not go near this one (as Dirty Harry would say “a good woman always knows her limitations”), but to give you a sense of scale, most of it is piled atop a 2″ x 6″.
It’s a big one alright— and by far the most repulsive specimen I have found to date. Given that I have spent over five months tracking dog shit*, that is saying something.
Miss Heather
*and coming across the occasional human bowel movement, like this one.
Dung of the Day: 124 Green St.
Dog #1 (to Dog #2): You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!
Dog #2 (to Dog #1): No, you got your peanut butter in my chocolate!
Dog #1 and #2 (after sniffing each other’s butts, in unison): mmmmmm, DELICIOUS!
Miss Heather
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