Can I be frank?
What about Sally?
What about just plain gross but straight up honest with you?
So, every Sunday (well, pretty much every Sunday) for the last few months I have been getting a wicked case of ..... what my college roommates and I used to call, The squitters. It only happens on Sunday and it's sort of a relief because I'm pretty much bound up Friday and Saturday. The only really bad about my new Sunday movements is they can happen at any time leaving me to do what I hate the most and use a public toilet. But, lately, we've been lazy and at home so I have been able to come and go as I please. This Sunday, I was put in a pretty difficult situation.
At noon, The Hubs and I were heading over to his condo to hold an open house of sorts because his tenant is moving out and like any good landlord, we want new tenants ASAP. I had a bagel for breakfast, which caused a dramatic drop in my blood sugar about 10 minutes before we left. Knowing I needed some protein, I grabbed a protein bar, but a heavier one that I have not been able to stomach lately. I ate it slowly but apparetly not slow enough because on our way to the condo, I started to feel sick. Not stomach sick, just out of sorts. The fisrt appointment came and left and we waited for the next appointment. I was on my cell phone chatting with my friend when my stomach started to runble that familiar rumble and I clenched my sides. I told The Hubs, I had to go but didn't want to stink up the joint before the next perspective renters came. He shugged his shoulders.
"Maybe it's just gas," I said to him as I made my way to the loo.
It wasn't.
I flushed fast so that it didn't have time to smell. But, it wasn't all going down. And before anyone can say lincoln logs, let me just tell you there was NO WAY this couldn't go down. It may as well have been number 1 with some lumps. I flushed again, and again an again. Now, just the lumps were left. I called for The Hubs with about 5 minutes to spare before the next appointment showed up. I stepped back almost falling into the tub and almost taking the shower curtain with me. "Get outta here" he said shooing me to the living room. I went and sat down, my stomach still grumbling and my butt cheeks clenching together all of this made harder because I was still on the phone with my friends and we were both trying not to laugh too hard.
The Hubs comes out and says he got everything to go down but he should probably call the plumber and wonders why his tenants never told him about the lack of flush power. And something has been lost of the years. When I was just dating The Hubs, that toilet had the jet stream flush power of Shea Stadium.
Cramping again. I tell The Hubs the storm has not passed. He hads me his car keys and tells me to go home. I hate driving his car. But, I hate crapping my pants even more. However, I know there is NO WAY I will make it home. As I am hesitating taking his keys, his cell rings and the appointment is here. I walk outside with him to meet her. She is with her friend and they both look like they could have taken the place of Paris and Nicole on the Simple Life.
Okay, so do I leave my husband alone with two cute blonds or do I mark my territory by letting poop run down my leg? I decide there is no time like the present to run across Summer Street with my butt clenched together to Starbucks. Thankfully, the bathroom there is free, clean and the toilet flushes. Apparently I took so long The Hubs came looking for me but didn't see me because I was too busy convulsing.
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1 comment:
I personally have an affinity for the bathrooms at Blockbuster as a result of being lactose intolerant. Ask Kev - I have christened all of the ones we have ever frequented (pre-Netflix of course).
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