One man's trash is another man's juicy tidbit

For years Monday has been labeled as this horrible day, on which nothing good ever happens. Well, I have to tell you, I'm secretly beginning to look forward to Mondays.

Why? Because in our little corner of the big city, Monday is trash day.

For the amount of time and effort Americans spend on guarding bits and pieces of their lives and the lengths they will go to protect their privacy, I'm flabbergasted at the stuff they openly display on trash day.

Just walking down my street yesterday I saw a trash can with five empty cases of Coke bottles, three flattened boxes of Twinkies, three Tostinos pizza boxes and – wait for it – a bottle of herbal weight loss pills.

Awesome. Absolutely awesome.

Who doesn't get how that works? Someone, somewhere should have seen this occurring and been like, "hey, let's play a little game of cause and effect."

I should stop at this point to clarify that I am not, in fact, routing through people's garbage, simply glancing that the contents that are easily visible.

There is a very thin line between being curious and being homeless and I know how quickly it can be crossed. It starts with a couch on the curb that ends up in your living room and then it's a box of cereal that is torn but still good and all the sudden you are cutting the chewed parts off an apple because "most of it is still good."

Needless to say, I don't dumpster dive.

Anymore.

But as I continued to stroll down the street I noticed a trash receptacle with FOUR, count them FOUR empty boxes of Vagisil.

This is normally where I would insert some tasteless crude joke, probably involving "extra cheese" or something along that line, but seriously this was so far beyond funny that I couldn't do it.

By the fourth tube, you aren't "fighting" that infection any more … it has won, game over, just give up or see a doctor or something, damn.

If I was a woman and that ever happened to me (and let's face it I'm just the perfect combination of slob and lazy for that to happen to me) I don't think I would have the confidence to buy four tubes of Vagisil let alone leave the empty boxes in plain sight on a street corner in something that can be associated with my house.

Yet there they were, just sitting on the accumulated garbage right there on the curb.

Man, why don't you just hang up sign on that house that says "The unluckiest man alive resides here."

Yet I have to say, nothing tops what I found as my journey down the block continued. The first time I passed it I didn't believe it was real. I was so in disbelief that I just stopped and stared.

I was mystified. There, before my very eyes sat three brand-spankin' new fitness scales, all three of them broken.

And all I could think was, "Well, that beats my record."

Now, realistically I know that there are a hundred different causes of why those scales were broken (many of them on the value menu), but come on what kind of a person breaks three scales in a week?

Hypothetically, if it were me and I hypothetically stepped on a scale and heard creeaaaaaakkkk --- SNAP, that would pretty much keep me off of scales for like 6 years,  10 month and 7 days … approximately.

Even by my logic, I can't get to three scales. I'm pretty sure I'd stop after the second one, something about fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice … Oh I don't remember, ask the President.

While I may not know much, I am pretty sure of one thing … this was the doing of a woman.

Why you ask? Easy … there is not a man alive that cares enough about what his weight is to purchase three scales just to find it out. Simply put: Guys are generally too lazy (and cheap) to have pulled this off.

What has to go on in your brain to allow this to happen?

Creeaaaaaakkk --- SNAP.

OK, well what a cheap piece of crap. Seriously, this thing must be defective cause I don't weight a pound over what I did in high school. But just to confirm, I'll buy another one.

Creeaaaaakkk --- SNAP.

What the F?!?! This is bull crap, stupid Chinese-made products don't last at all. Man, what's an obviously average-sized girl gotta do to confirm she still weighs 140 pounds, just like it says on my driver's license.

Here is where my logic deserts me. Why the third one, what would possibly motivate you to purchase the third one?

The only thing I got is a 3-pack at Costco, but even that's a stretch.

One of life's great mysteries I guess.

No time to ponder it now though, I gotta run home and double-bag some stuff.