Monday, November 19, 2007


I had such an amazing weekend that it was hard to choose what to write about, but the obvious topic is poo. The first amazing thing about this topic is the fact that I have started saying/writing "poo" instead of varies other synonyms which lean closer to inappropriate language. This is due to the influence of two people: My roommate Dolan and my best friend Tim. Good going guys.
The third person in this story is my best friend Becca (how can I have two best friends you say? Go fuck yourself!) who triumphantly admitted yesterday that the two funniest things in the world to her are poo and dogs acting like people.

And now, the story: In Greenpoint Brooklyn (home of Phaea) no one picks up after their dogs. This means that there are many many blocks of Greenpoint that I have never seen because I have to keep my focus down on the side walks ahead. This weekend there was a lot of walking in and out of my house due to pictionary parties, cigarettes runs, and trips to museums and restaurants. Everytime we walked out with passed a big big of poo that some dog had squeaked out early Sat morning.

The first time it was just gross.
The second time someone noticed there was blood in it.
The third time it had started to dry out.
The forth time, terrifyingly, part of it had appeared to move slightly. Alive?
The fifth time it had started to look very sad and crusty, like the slightest breeze would knock it down and scatter it to the East River.
The Sixth time (this morning) like the fire to the Phoenix, the rain had given the poo new moisture and life. It lays still in the place where it was first deposited, looking healthy and strong, and youthful.

Unlike me, who is turning 26 on Thursday. Anyone want to get married???

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