Well, it's nice to know I can still be shocked.
Today on my walk home I stumbled upon (although not literally, thank god) a very unpleasant sight. On the corner of a major intersection was a man, drunk and unconscious, slumped motionlessly against some steps. Three very large piles of vomit lay around him, one directly beneath his face. But that was not what I noticed first. What had initially drawn my attention to this grotesque scene was the fact that the man's pants were down around his ankles, leaving all hanging (well, squishing) out the back. I didn't want to look too closely for fear of the image burning itself permanently to the back of my eyeballs, but I'm pretty sure that the vomit wasn't the only product of his bodily functions that had left its mark. Oddly enough, he didn't really get much of a second glance from the passers-by. Perhaps the sight of a man passed out in his own excrement and filth is not noteworthy. Blech, I say. Blech blech blech.
There is no photo for obvious reasons.