Three forces in my life, some of them self-generated, recently coalesced in what I can only consider as an attempt on my life.
1) I have started eating jalapenos as a snack because they are so hot I can only eat one small slice every few minutes. This satisfies my desire to continue stuffing my face, while not allowing me to eat myself into oblivion. Usually I can polish of 10 or 15 jalapenos in an hour, and by the end of that hour my mouth is so scorched, or my appetite is sated enough, or a combination of both, that I can put the peppers down and not worry about eating anything else.
2) I eat a high-fiber cereal every morning. It fills me up, carries me until lunch, and as an added benefit, it keeps me regular. It’s not the cheapest cereal in the world (in fact, it’s pretty expensive at about $3.50 per 13oz box; I could eat knock-off Cheerios for about 33 cents per metric ass-ton, but it just doesn’t have enough fiber) but it has the daily protein, vitamin, and fiber levels that I’m looking for. It looks like bird feed and tastes like an old deck, but, like I said, the fiber.
3) I’m usually the first person into my office in the morning, so I usually get the first appointments of the day. Most of the time this isn’t a problem as we don’t really have appointments early in the day, but every now and then we do, and when we do, I handle them because I’m the only one around. Coincidentally, my high fiber cereal usually hits me about 30 minutes after I’ve gotten in to work.
So, with those three factors in mind, I present the following anecdote:
As I sit across the desk from the early morning appointment I suddenly feel a… trembling in my gut. “Hmm,” I think to myself, “This probably isn’t going to end well.” As my appointment asks question after question it becomes abundantly clear that this will indeed end very poorly. Without getting too graphic, I’ll just say that hull breach was imminent.*
Luckily, as I was calculating in my head how long it would take me to go home and get new pants and get back in time for my next appointment, as well as trying to think up an excuse as to why I had to leave other than, “I pooped my pants,” my appointment finally left. I ran to the bathroom. Literally. Full-stride, arms pumping, tie-over-my-shoulder ran. And what I thought would be a feeling of relief was replaced instead with the horrible sensation of anally birthing a Nerf-football covered with razorblades that has been soaked in rubbing alcohol. I was sweating. Tears were running down my cheeks. The smell was disintegrating my face. Then it was over.
As I sit here typing my palms are clammy, my skin is damp and cold, and I can physically feel a void in my mid-section.
Lesson learned: don’t schedule any more early morning appointments.
*There was a turtle-head poking out.
The brown bear was coming out of his cave.
I was prairie-dogging it.
I was poking cotton.
The torpedoes were armed.
The Tootsie Roll factory was in production.
Mr. Hanky was early for Christmas.
Logs were coming out of the lumber mill.
I was learning what Brown could do for me.
The space shuttle was leaving orbit.
The dog was jumping out of the bathtub.
Old Faithful was ready to erupt.
It was moments before a California mudslide.
I really had to take a Frank Stallone.
Mighty Count Chocula was about to emerge from his slumber.
I was going to start a new band entitled Shitpile! in my Pants.
My body prepared to do an emergency core ejection.
I was about to Jackson Pollack the back of my slacks.
I was wondering where that god-forsaken smell was coming from and now I know.
Oh, and since it is football season, how about this one:
“I’m taking the Browns to the Super Bowl.”
this made me feel better.
that’s what it’s like for me every single time.
(if i poo’d, which i don’t. really.)
(i went last week i think.)
“turtle-head” :)) :)) :))
People I know who work with old people tell me that the worse part about shitting one’s self is the rash you get later.
The tie over the shoulder bit was a nice touch.
Really.
BREACH! I use that word all the time. I’ve got a touch of IBS and I’m on medications which tend to make my first dump in the morning of the emergency evacuation variety. I sooo related to this post!
See for me, I was right there, living this post, vicariously… the void, the clammy hands, for me I also get a trembly feeling and a cold sweat and if I *almost* crapped in my pants but didn’t by *this much* (visualize thumb and index finger nearly touching), I also get a light headed sensation as if the dump were so powerful I could sense my blood sugar dropping.
I usually offer up a prayer of thanksgiving while still atop the porcelain altar… thanks be to God (or whomever, if you prefer), that you didn’t shit yerself in the workplace… Never a good thing, and sure to render a laugh throughout your tenure at your place of employment.
Just for you:
http://www.wavlist.com/movies/333/trtw-defecate.wav
http://www.wavlist.com/movies/333/trtw-yogurt.wav
http://www.wavlist.com/movies/333/trtw-embrace.wav
You have a serious way with words.
What did they call Irritable Bowel Syndrome in the 1930’s?
I think they called it the shits, myself.
Shits myself. Hah.
The Tootsie Roll factory was in production.
Mr. Hanky was early for Christmas.
Not to be cruel, but I laughed out loud at your misfortune. Love the euphimisms. Genius.
Dropping the kids off at the pool
Releasing a chocolate hostage
There’s one in the waiting room
are all my favourites, not to say I didn’t laugh at most of yours that I’d never heard before!
“I was learning what Brown could do for me.”
That one is awesome!
And Anger Hangover, I loved your Browns one, too.
My story is called, “Coffessions of a Dookie - Girl.”
“Bubblegut happens”…
oh
Here’s where “shit happens” is totally appropriate.
I was about to Jackson Pollack the back of my slacks.
This is brilliant. Just brilliant.
I’m sorry. I didn’t catch the name of the cereal.
This happens to me frequently, too. Unfortunately, the wait (and subsequent urgency) is usually self-induced because I’m just too lazy to get out of my office chair.
Is it Kashi? And did you make the Jackson Pollock one up?
Problem solved:
http://www.medicalproductsdirect.com/commodes.html
I don’t know if I laughed more at your story or at the list at the bottom. Hilarious!
I felt bad for you, though…that had to feel terrible, sitting there, waiting for the dude to get the hell out of your office.
I’m not sure where I stand at the moment on your sanity with the jalapeno-eating, but hey, if it works for you…
Regrettably I know how this feels. In fact, I think that one of my most recent evacuations was so enormous that it slid a bit of the ole’ spacesuit out. In other words, My Columbia is coming out of orbit with a small piece hanging off. Death imminent.
Oh man, I almost dropped a chocolate potato I laughed so hard at this post.
Dude, I only go about once a month…but when I do, look out, ’cause you don’t want to be anywhere within a five-mile radius. We’re talking the kind of toilet clogs that require not one, but a TEAM of certified master plumbers to fix.
Godspeed, man. Godspeed.
Pure genius, my man! I laughed so hard I Jackson Pollack’d myself!!!
:-)
nice to know that no matter how long it’s been since I’ve had the opportunity to read your blog, I can always count on you to write entries that make me vomit in my mouth (the fact that this particular entry is toilet-related is a plus).
I look forward to catching up on the entries…
I have SUCH a weakness for poop posts! The first “personal” blog I ever read was this award-winning (seriously!) post by Dooce, A Story About Someone Else’s Ass:
http://www.dooce.com/archives/daily/09_16_2004.html
I haven’t been the same since….