Urine for a surprise.

3 May

My dog has not peed since 10 a.m. this morning. It is now approaching 7 p.m. I have brought him outside on four separate occasions now and attempted to coerce him into tinkling in the grass, and he won’t do it. More baffling is that when I bring him back inside, he acts antsy by the door like he needs to go out. April Fool’s is April 1st, Raleigh. Not May 1st.

Idiot dog.

I am back in Pennsylvania doing the roof thing, folks. This time I am in a city outside of Pittsburgh. (Black and yellow, black and yellow, black and y—I get it.) BOY is this area trashy.

Trent and I moved into a triplex; a three-story apartment, in which we occupy the entire second floor. Above us lives an older woman, and below us lives an ancient couple. This ancient couple is probably over 70 years old, and their entire apartment REEKS of urine. It’s awful. For weeks, this foul stench has been surfacing through the vents in our apartment, and we haven’t been able to figure out what constantly smells like sewage. I had not seen or heard the neighbors below us since we moved in, and was beginning to wonder if they actually even existed. Then yesterday for the first time as I went downstairs to collect the mail, I ran into the older woman who was also waddling out with her walker to fetch her mail. She left her apartment door wide open behind her as she slowly shuffled over to the mailbox. I was rocked in the face with the putrid, dank stench of piss. It was awful. I had to hold my breath to keep from gagging.

They were the culprits. I had the misfortune of running into her on two separate occasions in one day, and the odor nearly knocked me unconscious. Do they not notice how foul it is? Are these people literally just sitting on the couch all day long just pissing in their pants in front of their televisions? To make matters worse, my dog follows me downstairs to get the mail every time, and on BOTH occasions he ran inside their apartment to explore, and I had to go chase him around to get him out of there, holding my breath all the while.

What’s the solution? Do I tell the landlord? Do I start a controlled fire on the first floor? Do I leave anonymous notes until they get the picture? Should I pay for a cleaning service to come surprise attack them? I mean, it’s bad. Like, worse than hoarders with 46 cats. Not kidding.

I can’t quite nail the backcomb. I wish someone would teach me. Every time I try to add a little oompf to my hurr, I end up looking like Mr. Potato Head. It’s lumpy and uneven. It looks like a fourth grader’s clay project. I just can’t figure it out. What is the technique you skanks practice? I need to be educated.

Yoplait Light has come up with some pretty delectable low-calorie dessert yogurt flavors, or so it appears. Black forest cake, red velvet cake, raspberry cheesecake, white chocolate & strawberry—the list goes on. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that these are actually all of their regular flavors with more appealing dessert names printed on the containers. Black forest cake? Just black cherry flavored. Raspberry cheesecake tastes just like raspberry yogurt. White chocolate & strawberry tastes like plain strawberry. I don’t know what kind of scam they’re trying to pull over there at the yogurt factory, but I for one will not be had.

They still make good yogurt though.

I need to be on the beach. Of course, I would need to find someone who manufactures SPF 500 first. My skin has not seen the golden warmth of the sun in what feels like six months. It will not stop raining in Pennsylvania. Seriously. Over the past 25 days, it has rained every single day except for maybe 7 of those days. It has been outrageous. Everyone is going to drown. The neighbors are hoisting inflatable rafts up to their bedroom windows as an emergency escape. Children have water wings strapped to their little noodle arms on their way to the bus stop. People have been seen going to work wearing flippers and snorkels. An old man down the street is building an ark. The end is coming.

Speaking of which, if God ever wanted to wipe out certain undesirable areas of the world again like he did back in biblical times, Latrobe, Pennsylvania is a great place to start. Not a high quality area to live. Let’s just say that. This is the sort of town where nobody bothers to repaint their house when it’s peeling like a 2nd degree sunburn. It’s the type of town where people have giant milk cartons filled with water and cigarette butts on their front porch next to the door, and everyone has BEWARE OF DOG signs in front of their house. Not great.

According to the census report, there are 8 black people, 30 Asians, and 28 Hispanics.

There are 8,800 whites.

I think I have seen all 8 black people. Not kidding. Seven of them were children. The other remaining black was an elderly man with huge square glasses. I saw him in Wal-Mart. Not sure what kind of family tree they’ve got going on, but I’m no genealogy expert.

Well, time to go.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

“You want me to talk lefty?”

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One Response to “Urine for a surprise.”

  1. Franker May 5, 2011 at 3:23 pm #

    You need to step up to the equally-deceptive world of gourmet coffee flavors. At least with yogurt they change the color somewhat of the food, even if all tastes the same.

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