Dog Poop and Homecoming


I don’t believe I have made a very good case for my luck here on VeggieMacabre. Really, I like writing down all the bad karma events in my life because in some way I feel that if I can share my misfortunes, than maybe someone can learn and lead a better life. Who am I kidding? I know people laugh and for that reason, it makes me feel a little better about the event. If you can’t laugh at yourself, you aren’t doing it right.

So today will be no exception. I wasn’t going to tell this one but after my teaser from the post about my hydrocephalic CareBear, I think it is time to let this one out of the vault. I’m going back to 1995 when life was simple. I just received my drivers license, Beavis and Butthead was the show to watch, Nirvana still topped the charts and I was focused on Homecoming. It’s no surprise that girls were a mystery to me at that stage but regardless I had a date and anxiety was high.

I went to a private high school far away from the town that I lived in and it forced my to have two social lives. I had my school chums and then I had my pals from the neighborhood. The school chums were great but I was never as close to them as I was with the neighborhood pals. We spent every weekend catching up on the times lost over the week. It usually involved MTV and this great quest to be the next Metallica. I know, I was in a shitty band, but who wasn’t back then? The real treasured memories I have of them is our complete lack of knowlege of the opposite sex. As the first in the group to go on an actual “date” they had me so spun up, the night was doomed before it even began.

I will admit, the days preceding Homecoming night was kind of a kick. My friends were absolutely certain I would be in the position to find out the workings of the female species so I needed to prepared. This involved concocting ridiculous assumptions on what girls liked to hear, buying cheap cologne and drawing straws to see who would purchase condoms from the gas station. We even went as far as putting my friend’s sister’s bra on the overweight Labrador to figure out the locking mechanism. The reason for that is no one would be a test subject and wear the bra for a realistic simulation. Regardless, the bra proved to be tougher than we thought. I think a person who is color blind has a better chance at solving a Rubix Cube than we would at unlocking that thing.

So the day came for me to go to the Homecoming dance. If it wasn’t for my buddies I probably would have treated it without much concern but I felt as if this was the turning point of my life and come Sunday morning, my view of the world as I knew it would be different. I had all my bases covered; tickets in pocket, reservations for the restaurant, money in wallet, flowers, cheap suit on, cheaper cologne on, and condoms in the….ok, condoms not in the car. I’ll get to that one in a minute.

Soon I arrived to pick up the date. She was from a rival private high school and I knew her from a mutual friend. Really, I had no business going out with her. She was smoking hot, popular and had every quality a 16 year old girl should not have. The summer before school we were at the pool and every college aged dude practically killed themselves just to talk to her. But for what ever reason she wanted to go to Homecoming with me, a skinny goof that had to borrow his dad’s tie to complete his used car salesman suit.

I parked the ’91 Explorer in the driveway, looked in the review mirror just to confirm I looked the same as I did 20 minutes ago, sprayed the final Binaca in the mouth and cut across her drive and some of the yard to the front door. As I rung the doorbell my pulsed race and I could her my heart beat in my ears. Then she opened door and man, she was stunning. I don’t know what goes into that transformation on prom and homecoming but somehow they start off as girls and then become princesses. I felt completely inadequate but a little smitten because I was taking her to Homecoming. Unless I completely screwed this up no one would be the wiser. So I walked into her house and I specifically remember my right foot feeling just a tad heavier.

I followed her around the den, through the living room and into the kitchen so I could meet the parents and put on the picture perfect corsage. This night was beginning to shape up perfectly until her sister came running down the stairs and around the corner screaming, “Ewww! Someone stepped in dog poop!” Instantly everyone’s eyes shot straight to the floor to see poop tracks starting at the front door, around the den, through the living room and into the kitchen, right to my foot.

They say at moments of sheer panic and distress you can have an out of body experience. I am fairly certain that happened to me because I saw the blood drain from my face. There isn’t much one can say when faced with such a dilemma. I looked at my date and she saw in my eyes that I was mortified so she immediately made an attempt to lessen the severity of the situation. Her mother followed suit with “honey this isn’t a problem” and “that happens to the best of us”. It didn’t matter what they said, I built this night up for a month and managed to destroy their carpet before we even met.

Her father opened the garage door and we chatted as I hosed off my shoe in the driveway. I could tell he didn’t have the words to console my broken spirit so he asked about our football team. I was a wide receiver so I used he opportunity to try and impress him. But that fell short because our team was 5 and 5 and her school was sitting on an undefeated season. I admired him for trying but it came back to the problem at hand when her mother stated that they needed to get to Home Depot to rent a steam-cleaner.

Before we left I apologized for the fifth time and made sure to not walk across the lawn. I saw her dog behind the fence racing back and forth and I just scowled. So with the shoe cleaned we headed off to dinner. The ride was a little quiet but soon we began to talk, leaving the thoughts of poop far behind.

The rest of the night was kind of a blur. I know I managed to not step in anything else and we left the dance a little early. Driving back we stopped at the river park and made out to “Emerson Lake And Palmer’s Greatest Hits” cassette, side A and B three times over. It was a perfect end to a disastrous beginning. I brought her home by the midnight curfew and walked her to the door with a final kiss. As I was backing down the driveway she wave from the window and I waved back simultaneously running over the curb. It was wonderful.

I drove home and pulled in the driveway elated by the first make out session and gathering thoughts of victory speeches for my buddies. Noticing the light was still on down stairs and I walked in to see my Mom sitting at the kitchen table. And then I saw the box of condoms that I had dropped in the driveway resting in front of her.

Died, I did.

12 thoughts on “Dog Poop and Homecoming

  1. well, Bill- my man. Everyone steps in Dog Poop and it’s how you come back from it that will determine the kind of man you are.
    And I think you turned out to have a damn good time- and good job on the makin’ out bro!
    Though, the condom thing could have been difficult, but I would like to think you have level headed parents and would have been proud that you TRIED to practice safe sex rather than seeing that mortified look upon learning about the “accident” three months later.

    Okay, what was I trying to say?

    Dog shit happens to the best of us, my man. Be proud your dog shit was DOG SHIT, and not Meth.

  2. Talk about a Big Splasher! 😉

    A few years ago I actually kept my condom case on the outside of my purse, since it’s just like this little black square case on a keychain. Apparently my mom had no idea what it was cuz one day we were chatting with my purse nearby and she opened it up and just rolled her eyes. I asked her what the heck she thought I was keeping in there, and she said she just didn’t know.

  3. Bill you really know how to bounce back in a bad situation.
    I think we all have a bad first date don’t we ?
    Mine,:14 years old, so nervous that I start getting dizzy while Im meeting her parents and pass out.
    Ahh young love..

  4. LOL! Wow, that was hilarious. I feel so bad for you! What a great yarn.

    I got grilled on my first date with my high school girlfriend by her dad who was a big, heavily tattooed ex-marine. He asked me how old I was, if I had a driver’s license, how good my car was, if I had a job, and if I was going to college after high school. He fired these questions off at me so quickly and so gruffly that between my nerves and my desire to impress him with my answers it was all I could do answer him at all. After his interrogation he just said, “Ok, then. Well, get her back on time and in one piece.” I did, and we got along fine after that. Although, she had a bad habit of wanting to cuddle with me while we were sitting on the couch over at her house with Daddy giving us the evil eye the whole time. I had to tell her to stop because if she didn’t I was sure he was going to hunt me down and castrate me for all the terrible things he was sure I was doing to his little princess. Turns out there were no terrible things happening at all, unless you count makeout sessions in her basement and in my car (not from lack of trying on my part!). That’s as far as it ever went. At least with me anyway. I ran into her after we broke up and after I went away to college and she was all preggers and had dropped out of high school. Maybe it was for the best. Who knows what Daddy Marine would have done to me if turned out it was me who had knocked up his little girl.

  5. what is it with you and hilarious misfortune?

    you are gonna have the BEST stories to make your kids feel better someday.

  6. You should be commended for your admirable recovery…a lesser 16-yr old might have run home crying. Not you. In fact, you were even able to turn it around and get som action to a musical artist I’ve never heard of in my life.

    Incidentally, what is that dog– a D cup?

  7. Ohhhhhhh NO! Hahaha, I would have DIED! Us girls don’t have to worry about stuff like that. Especially us girls who shunned all that business anyways. How the hell did you explain that to your mom?

  8. oh dear. see, i wish i had a funny story about prom, but i don’t. i got stood up. and when my boyfriend finally showed (i went to the prom anyway, and he met me there two hours late), he danced with all the hot cheerleaders and i sat outside on the fountain in a purple dress and a feather boa, smoking marlboro reds and drinking whiskey out of my punch cup. as for any condom mishaps, yeah. about that. i didn’t get laid until after i graduated high school, sooo. none of that. can we spell l-o-s-e-r?

Speak to me, Egor.

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