It’s Fall here in New England.

And that can only mean one thing.

What’s the one thing, you ask?

You may be guessing that “Fall in New England” brings:

1) Vibrant Fall foliage bursting through the landscape

2) Crisp, fresh apples arriving in the orchards

3) The farms are full of joyous laughter from children on hay rides

4) Mental Poo will have a story about dog shit

If you were thinking anything other than #4, then you don’t know me very well.


Mental POO.


You see…

..when the weather in New England starts to get cold, the leaves change color and begin falling off the trees.

It’s truly magical.

I hate this.

I hate this not ONLY because it brings throngs of dipshits through my state with the sole purpose of looking at leaves.


They’re LEAVES.


You’re looking at LEAVES.

How does this NOT make you sit back and go:

“Hey…honey…it just occurred to me that we’ve driven more than 3 hours to look at a red leaf.”


So not only does the onset of Fall bring out those idiots, but it also brings about this phenomenon:

The mysterious and elusive camo-poo.



Or, the proper Latin term:

Camouflageus Defecatious

Camouflaged poop.

Not mine, mind you.

My poop remains large with bright red stripes (I should probably have that checked out) and stares at me from my own toilet.


It’s like the corn is peering into my very soul.

Freaks me out.

No…I’m talking about my dog’s poop.

My dog has run of the yard…which is okay because she tends to launch her turds over near my back fence.

Where the trees are.

In the summer or winter, this is fine…because I can find the poop pretty easily.

Me: “AHA! There’s the poop!”

num num num num.

I mean, um.

To scoop it up.


Dodged a bullet there.


Cover said poop now with 15 million goddamn leaves of all different shades of brown, green, red, brownish red, greenish red, taupe (taupe?!)

…and finding said dog shit becomes an effort in detective work.

Here…let me show you some examples.

Here is a photo of a bunch of leaves in my yard.

Your task:

Can you spot the pieces of shit?

(click to enlarge…that’s what she said)


How did you do?

Were you able to find the dog crap?


Do you know why you couldn’t find it?

Because it’s all stuck to the bottom of my goddamn foot, that’s why.

That’s a fantastic feeling.

Let me tell you…

There’s nothing better than going blind searching barefoot (yes…barefoot) through a pile of friggin’ leaves like you were searching for diamonds and then realizing that OH..OH I JUST STEPPED ON A DIAMOND !!!

…but instead of a diamond it’s just a big, giant, squishy pile of dogshit.


Here…here’s one you may fare better with.

Can you spot the pieces of shit?

Hint: there are three.

(click to enlarge)


I made it easier for you.

I wish my dog would make it easier for me, though.

Maybe I’ll start feeding her Chinese food.

Or better yet…

Maybe I’ll just invite some of those stupid friggin’ leaf-peepers over the house and wait for those stupid bastards to yell, “OH, JESUS!! I STEPPED IN CRAP!!”


Serves ’em right.

Two birds, one stone.


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