No offense, Milwaukee, but I really don't like you this week. Now that the snow is almost gone, I'm staring at three months' worth of broken liquor bottles and used condoms and broken auto parts and (my favorite litter) discarded hair weaves, and it makes me sick and angry that people don't care about where they live. Yeah, I understand you're all poor (and it's my fault because I was born pale), but how much money do you have to make to not smash your empty booze bottles all over the sidewalk, really?
And there's been a little dead dog--black and white, terrier-looking--laying in the middle of N. Teutonia Ave for at least two days. It's the saddest damn thing. Accidents happen, but no one cared about him enough to pick up his body. I thought about getting a shovel and a box to pick him up myself, but I don't know what to do with a dead body in the city (growing up, dead animals got buried in a cornfield). And someone would probably run me over, and no one would care enough to pick up my body.
I don't even like dogs, I have no idea why a little dead lonely dog makes me so upset.