Poop...yep, I said it

There are some people that feel entitled to everything they come across. There is one thing in common among all these people...they do not pick up after their dog.

Nothing irritates me more than walking behind someone that lets their abnormally giant Great Dane poop in front of my building and then saunter off like they've got somewhere better to be and that they have the God given right to pass up their responsibility of pooper-scooper-dum.

I have to admit, that there are times, that I will call these people out and act like a lunatic, yelling at them while they hurriedly walk away.

"Buddy, don't worry. I'm behind you with bags just so that I can clean up your dog's poop so our entire city doesn't become over run by rats."

Ugh...some people.

I think part of the reason why I am so sensitive about this, is because I have been on the receiving end of poop.

What do I mean by this? Well, I'll tell you.

My first poop experience was three years ago. Flaunting a brand new pair of Cole Haan heels, I pranced to the EL, so excited that I could finally show off my new investment.

Once I got on the EL, I noticed a foul smell. I looked around for the typical unkempt person that you always make a b-line from once you see, but there was no such person in sight. A stinky baby maybe? Not so much...

I slowly began to work my way over to the other side of the car, when I noticed that the smell was following me and that people were staring at me, and not to admire my new shoes.

"Crap," I thought...literally. All over my shoes. Covering the sides of the beautiful polished leather. Even though I was four stops away from my work, I jetted off that train like my ass was on fire.

Second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth time (yes, it has happened to me that many times), I have been knee deep in some irresponsible owner's issue. Except now, it's my issue.

In an effort to de-poop myself, I have gone so far as to hose myself off in some random person's yard, hoping that they will have sympathy for me and not call the police on some girl that looks like she could be homeless.

Why have a dog when you can't pick up after him/her? It just doesn't make sense to me. Don't people know that dog poop is a rat's delicacy? At night, they migrate towards their favorite dessert and I certainly don't want it to be anywhere near my home.

I have decided that the "Please pick up after your pet" signs are no longer working. Instead, I am going to begin posting signs that say, "Pick up your dog's poop, otherwise you will be immediately labeled as an irresponsible asshole." Or maybe we could punish them by letting them live a day in the life of Lauren - the girl that perpetually steps in poop. I bet they will think twice after that.

But I really want to know, has this ever happened to you? Or am I the only unfortunate one? (Please don't make me feel bad about myself:)