Friday, July 30, 2010

Crappy Morning. Literally. There was crap. A lot of it.

This morning started off pretty damn good. That should've been a sign already. Good mornings for me are a karmic warning that things are going to go south. Like the cramps before your period. Good mornings are my cramps.

I woke up, felt great, and went to the market just outside my door to do my shopping for the next few days. I love going to the market on Friday mornings. Waking up to a bunch of smiling faces, anxious to take your cash in exchange for fresh herbs can never be a bad thing!

And... it's FRIDAY. FRIIIIIIIDAAAAAAAAAAAY. This means that I get to walk into the office, and yell with my grinniest grin, "HAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPYY FRRIIIIIIIIIIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY" and watch as my colleagues roll their eyes at the incredible-optimistic-anglophone-idiot. (They secretly love it, I suspect. If not just for the opportunity to make fun of me a little -- they are French after all.)

Despite the promising début of today, and the fact that the weekend is only a few short hours from now, a surprise awaited me. A smelly surprise.

I walked out of the metro, smile-on-face, whistling, actually WHISTLING, my way to the job I have come to loathe when: Someones bowels exploded. No, no. I'm serious. EX. PLO. DED. Wouldn't at all be surprised if bits of his innards were mixed in there.

Watch your step in front of the stairs at La Defense, because you may end up playing slip & slide on a pile of excrement so copious, that it makes an that triceratops's dump from Jurassic Park look like a Chihuahua's.

The poo wasn't just there. It was everywhere. Long smears of mysterious dried brown filth were littered with clumps. It looked like the pooper was so pleased by his creation that he decided to do a happy dance in it.

The saddest part in all this? I was so busy whistling, that I... yuck... took a step into it. You read that right. I stepped in human poop today. A big gob of it. (Another pair of shoes that I need to throw away now.) At first I was like, "where'd all this mud come from??" and then I took a breath. And consequently, wanted to hurl.

The A-holes at RATP didn't even mark it off. They were already on my bad side for the EARLY (the NERVE, I know, right?) trains, heated cabins in mid-summer, and general "we're on vacation, so you'll get one train an hour" attitude but... COME ON!! There's a drop of water on the ground & you get the "Caution" sign. Vacation or no, they should've quarantined the shit-littered area, put up those toxic waste signs & doused everyone with antibacterial spray.

And so, I say to you all, Happy Friday.


  1. Ah lovely!

    What a beautiful Poop on Paris Pavements blog post!

    There ought to be awards for posts this good!

    All the best


  2. You're too kind Keith, anyone can write a good poop article. Glad you enjoyed. PS - I have changed shoes.

  3. i thought dog poop was Paris's only problem. that's hella-gross. sorry about your shoes. i hate the merde {i can't remember if that is how "shit" is spelled}. take care.

  4. Whooooooaaaaaa. Chick. That's Dis. Gus. Ting. *shudders* I am so, so, so, so sorry.

    But I guess you can think of it like this: things can only get better this weekend, eh? Once you have stepped in someone's ass explosion, there's only UP from there!

  5. I was tweeting for BitchBuzz this afternoon and, you're quite right, my Friday could have been a lot worse. Glad you survived the ordeal though!

  6. Gives a whole new meaning to "Same shit, different day"!

    Hope you do better avoiding the 'routine' next time!

    Paris Paul

  7. @KMB: Props on your mad spelling skilzzzz
    @Karin: I know. I'm scarred for life. And I need new shoes.
    @Lipstick: Still kickin and watching where I step! Thanks for reading :)

  8. @Paul: Living abroad opens your eyes. And now mine are going to be staring at the ground. Lesson learned! Thanks for commenting :)


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