Last night Kmart and I went to see the Star Bores, I mean Star Sucks, I mean Star Snores, whatever, the movie bites ass. Anyway, more on that later.
So we didn’t get home until late, and we had stopped at Wawa on the way home to grab a quick dinner while we were driving. When we got back we watched a few minutes of American Psycho, and then I went to bed. I read a little bit of the Ultimate Unabridged Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy first, though.
When I woke up this morning, my stomach still felt funny. I wasn’t sure what was up, but I went on with my morning routine. I got dressed and then went out to the kitchen to make breakfast. As I was sitting watching terrible music videos (because bastard TV Land won’t show MacGyver on Thursdays) I had a rumble in my tumbly, and the not completely unfamiliar feeling of “the vapors” in my lower digestive region, if you get my drift.*
So, I leaned over and let it slide. And that’s where all my troubles began, because it slid. So, I hopped up and headed to the bathroom to confirm that I, a 24 year old man, had in fact shat my pants. Confirmed!
So, I cleaned myself off, changed clothes and took the soiled garments downstairs to the laundry. I thought about not telling Kmart, but then I thought, ah, what the hell, nobody is perfect.
We had a good laugh, and then he asked me if I was going to blog about it. I thought for a moment, and then said, “Probably.” You would have never seen this blog earlier, as I was going to come in and blog about Star Wars, but that crapping in the pants things really messed up my morning. I got so behind that I forgot to bring in my notes for the movie blog. (Yeah, it was so bad it needed notes. And it gave me diarrhea. Don’t see Star Wars or you’ll crap your pants, I think, is the lesson learned here.) So I was supposed to be into work at about 8:30, which would have been enough time to post about the movie, but instead I pooped in my pants, and come in later, and went right into a two-hour meeting.
The worst part is that I now have fart paranoia, so every time I have to let off a little steam, I feel terrorized into making sure my butt is planted atop a porcelain throne.
Oh well, at least you got a laugh out of it.
*I had to fart.
