Public Displays of Uncouthness

As almost anyone who knows me would probably tell you, in the words of DH, I am extremely sensitive to uncouthness. It is for this reason that I have to lament the increasing public displays of all things gross and liquid, in particular spitting and public urination.
During my three to five walks home from the office weekly, I have to regularly do an adapted hopscotch walk as I negotiate small, bubbly puddles of saliva. Now, here is where I have to disagree with Bono, not everyone really does need to cry or need to spit. In fact very few people need to spit. I can see it if a bug landed on your tongue or if you need to get rid of some phlegm, but really, it seems to be more a sport than anything else. Or something you can do with your mouth while walking down the street when your cell phone has died. A couple of weeks ago I was walking behind some young hooligan with pants belted to stay put about halfway down his thighs, and he turned his head as if to look both ways before crossing the street; in actuality he was preparing to spew a massive spit bomb. It very nearly ended up in my face due to inertia and some unfortunate wind conditions. So to all of you out there who are considering it, please don't.
Public urination is another cause for distress. I can think of two instances and one attempt in the last 10 months or so. That may not sound like a big number at first, but really isn't even one way too many? Anyway, incident number one took place last fall when the son of some neighbours had a huge party to celebrate going off to university. Some doughhead was wobbling to his car along with some cohorts when he shouted out, "I'm just gonna take a leak." He stops on our boulevard next to a stately elm tree and proceeds to unzip. Because of the party noise we were sitting on our porch in the dark and DH interjected, "Not against our tree, you're not." Imagine the surprise and hasty retreat.
Incident number two occurred a couple of months ago. I was walking home from work through the Exchange District minding my own business and from out of a backlane saw a trickle of liquid streaming down across the sidewalk and into the street. Of course I looked to ascertain the source, and that's when I saw a young woman arise from a squat position and zip up her jeans. Classy, non?
The third and final act was witnessed from my kitchen window. I saw a young homey dart behind my neighbour's lovely lilac tree on his way to the bus stop. After a furtive glance around he proceeded to relieve himself and finished just in time to catch his bus. Call me a cynic but something tells me he wasn't carrying any Purel either.
Just another reason that I believe evolution works forward and in reverse.

Bitch pleeze.