I stepped in dog shit today.

Me.

Dog shit.

Can someone tell me how a grown up, 31 year old man allows himself to step in dog shit? I mean, I had no reason to not avoid it. I still have my eyesight. I was looking ahead and not looking elsewhere. I didn’t have my iPod, so I had all my senses in tact while walking - yet, I still managed to step in dog shit. Unbelievable.

How can we live in a world where people don’t pick up dog shit? That’s just not right. If I weren’t so Canadian, I would be wreaking some serious havoc, let me tell you. I’d swear a couple of times and then apologize to some random passerby of my lewd and crude behaviour.

So needless to say, the ride home on the train raised a lot of eyebrows, as everyone’s olfactories were sniffing out the culprit. I felt like shouting out, “It was me! It was me! Shit! What? What do you want from me?! I am sorry!” But I didn’t. Instead, I stuck my head in the newspaper that doubled as my emotional shield of shame.

31 years old people… 31 years old and I still step in dog shit.

See? I can still manage to live in PARADISE, but still have shitty days.

Oh, the reason for this blog entry - There are new photos posted of my new flatties!! Finally, you will be able to meet Chua - my first flatty. And my current flatties, Marcus and Cindy.

Excuse me while I wipe the shit off my shoes.