Yesterday, Christie over at Passion for Things that Don't Matter wrote a chilling post about the dangers of leaving your eyes open while in traffic on the freeway.
It made me want to seriously consider hiring a chauffeur with the money that normally goes to my mortgage, even if that means living out of a cardboard box.
It reminded me of a few memories I've been repressing on the same topic.
On three separate occasions, I have been an eye witness to three different human beings using trees as their own personal toilet.
(Thank goodness I only saw them from behind, and it was "Number 1" and not "Number 2.")
Okay, mock me all you want ...
"Tee Hee, Nathan still uses the potty language he learned when he was 4!"
"I wonder if he blushed in his high school health class when the anatomy section came up and the teacher used the "P" word and the "V" word."
... you're hilarious. You should take your show on the road.
Far, far away from here.
Maybe it's just my neighborhood where some fences and walls are artfully decorated with graffiti, but I thought we had achieved a higher standard of living than dogs.
I didn't realize that humans were still concerned with marking their territory (although, I am now struck by the irony of mentioning graffiti in this post and the parallels one can draw).