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Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Pooper Scooper

So I had to clean up poop on Saturday. Not dog poop. Not cat poop (or whatever cat lovers call it). I had to clean up homo sapien feces. While sitting in my office on Sat., looking over resumes for camp staff, a man exited the boys locker room (across the hall from my office) and said someone had an accident in the shower. As a 25-year-old male, I had no idea what he was talking about. When I think of accidents, I think of spilling a beer or falling off my bicycle while riding drunk. Then the man clarified by using the term "bowel movement." Since I was the only director at the Y that afternoon, I knew what had to be done. I summoned my bloodborne pathogens training and fetched the biohazard kit. Minutes later, I was fully prepared w/ my latex gloves, full-body plastic apron and face guard. Images of '70s film monsters came to mind as I trudged down the hall in my new outfit. Jon, one of the front desk staff members, looked at me and said, "You're a better man than me." I thought about correcting his grammar, but instead decided to focus on the task at (gloved) hand. As I stepped into the boys locker room, the smell was overpowering.

Speaking of stinky poo, I think a cool superpower would be the ability to smell someone's poop and immediately list everything that person ate in the past 24 hours. Still working on what that superhero would be called. Anyway, back to the locker room. I convinced myself it wouldn't be too bad, picking up poop w/ a plastic bag and dropping it into the bright red hazmat bag. I've done it lotsa times while walking my dog, so it couldn't be much different. I then turned the corner and peered into the showers. No pile of poop was to be found. Instead, dozens of tiny poop pellets were scattered all over the showering area. Someone had left a couple showerheads on, too, making the fecal matter extra soft and slippery. Unable to find the scoop and cup (staples in any biohazard kit, except ours), I proceeded to pick up each blueberry-sized piece of poop w/ paper towel in hand, dropping the bullets into the hazmat bag. Ten minutes later, I grabbed a mop and cleaned the now-poopless floor of any possible remnants. I exited the locker room shortly after, a very different man than the one who walked through that door just 20 minutes before.


At 4:33 PM, Blogger T-Rock said...

I love reading your entries, except on days when I am recovering from a pelvic exam and my stomach muscles are clenched up and sore. On those days laughing hurts. It's one of those days. Im laughing again. Ouch.

At 5:47 PM, Blogger J-Mazz said...

A pelvic exam less than a week after getting engaged. Coincidence? I think not. If that's not a reason to stay single, I don't know what is.

At 12:14 PM, Blogger T-Rock said...

Total coincidence, bozo. Women get a pevlic exam once a year. It was scheduled months ago. Keep making lousy engagement comments and I'll give YOU a pelvic exam the next time I see you. And for the record, there is nothing sexy or pleasurable about it!

At 2:34 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

since you did such a good job, a better title for your entry might be "Super Pooper Scooper"...just a thought.


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