Gum Goes in the Trash, Douches.

We've all been there. We've all felt that what-the-fuck feeling from under our shoe, the one where your foot lands down on the sidewalk but resists coming up for another step. It's as if that particular sidewalk panel were made of a strange, rubbery adhesive and it has attached itself to the sole of your cross trainer forever. The culprit? Gum. A lousy piece of shitty gum. And how did this gooey, elastic-like glob of used up halitosis relief become adhered to the tread of your sneakers? Because some lousy human being couldn't muster up the energy to walk their lazy ass to the trash can to dispose of it.

Let's think about that for a minute. Sidewalks everywhere, places where people feel safe and protected to walk freely without worry, are lined with trash cans specifically so that litter doesn't inundate the recreational space that our feet so often tread. Now, some piece of human trash has decided that they can no longer keep their gum inside their mouth another minute. Not even another 100 yards to the next trash receptacle. Instead, they'd rather spit the fucking thing onto the sidewalk, creating a landmine for passersby who will, no doubt, step unsuspectingly onto the saliva-infused, brain-like ball of rubbery gum. I mean, c'mon! Even the grass would be better placement. This gum-spitting imbecile has about as much courtesy as the douche bag who doesn't flush his stink-pickle down the John in a public restroom. I could go on about that one all day, but I best not digress.

Now you may think I'm a little too worked up over gum on my shoe, but have you ever tried cleaning it off? You don't want to touch it. I mean, the thing is filled with the germs of a stranger's mouth. It could have herpes, or the Ebola virus or some shit. That leaves you digging at the bottom of your shoe with a stick, or a pen, or some other pointy inanimate object. And it's hard work. The damn stuff biologically adapts itself to become one with your sneaker. No fucking joke.  You almost need to hire a plastic surgeon to remove what has now become an abscessed growth on the tread of your sole. If you don't break a sweat  as you struggle to free yourself from the gooey clutches of someone's spearmint, then you're not human.

Oooh. Ground breaking thought. I wonder if peanut butter would work? It works on hair. I'm going to have to step in some gum to find out...