The identity of this individual shall remain anonymous unless he chooses to divulge this information himself, via the comment section. All I can add to this purportance of peril is say that I was not affected beyond my normal output of gas. I am admittedly a gassy individual (this may or may not please my future roommates out west) so even a slight spike in activity down below probably goes unnoticed on my part. The only deviation from the norm that occurred on my part that evening was due to the fan layout in my room, as any flatulence would imminently get stuck in a cross breeze just above my nose, creating a veritable fart cyclone above my bed. Just read on...
Dude, I really think there was either 1. some cross contamination issue on Friday or 2. the marinade did some crazy shit to my GI. I had the WORST ride home ever. I nearly crashed like 5 times because of the most painful gas I've ever experienced. I didn't want to stop because I needed to get home. Every mile that went by seemed to take like 20 minutes. I was literally using my hand to keep what felt to be the biggest, most aggressive crap ever from coming out. I started out saying, "if I can just get home I'll be fine". Then it was, "if I can just get to a dunkin donuts I'll be fine". Then it was, if I can just find a wooded area I'll be fine". Then it was, "if I don't crash my car I'll be fine". About three quarters of the way home the gas subsided and I felt good, I felt like I could make it home but I knew it was only a matter of time before it returned. Then, about a mile from my house, as I was getting on 495 one exit away, it came back with a vengeance. Someone working at Stop & Shop that made that meat wanted me to lose everything in my car, my brand new car. I floored it, 90 MPH, eyes watering, sweat pouring, "just let me get home, just let me get home, just let me get home". Of course, the light at the end of the ramp was red. The light at the end of my street was red . . . but I was going to make it, I was going to make it!
I pull up to my house, (literally pulled up to my house, driving on the lawn nearly to the porch) and I take one step out of the car and my ass explodes. Simultaneously I try to pull down my shorts and squat to no avail, I fall backwards and I quickly pull down my shorts but it's too late. There is shit everywhere (but my car thank god). The lawn is covered, my legs are covered, my brand new kicks are like mini toilet bowls filled with shit. There was so much shit you would have thought that I dove into a shit swimming pool. It's 11:00pm, I strip naked on my front lawn, still sick and I pull out the hose. I spray myself down with freezing cold water, go inside and sit on the toilet for another half hour and continue to shit my brains out. Now my bathroom is covered in human waste. The floor, the toilet seat, the sink, everything! There is shit everywhere and as far as I know, the whole neighborhood is meeting about whether or not to call the cops on the guy that drove on the lawn, got out, shit himself silly and is now running around naked with a hose and spraying random things like the back of my nut sack with 120 pounds of pressure.
I was up until 1:30am, sick, exhausted, cleaning the bathroom, taking like 3 showers. It was a total disaster and in the morning I still had to go out and clean the lawn, my clothes etc.
-FIN-
8 comments:
I lost it right when he said "my ass explodes". I'm sure most of us have been in that situation at some point. I'm not sure, however, that this person wanted that email pasted to a blog, anonymous or not. Funny stuff though.
So on Friday, when I looked over at you and your Dad and I said, "I'm hitting my wall buddy, I think it's time to go." What I was really saying was, "my stomach is starting to telegraph stinky times ahead and there is no way I'm going to start ripping motorboat poopy farts in front of your mother on the first night I meet her. It takes me at least two times to be that comfortable in front of someone." I just had no idea that it was going to get that bad. Can you imagine if I stayed and I did that to your bathroom?!
-Gilbert
JG: not to worry! French does it all the time, so why not his buddies? That's why we have two bathrooms. I gotta tell ya that I really felt your pain while reading that. I've been in that same situation once, that I can remember. Only, it wasn't in a car, or anything like that. Here's the story - I got blotto one night. When we got home, I went straight to bed and fell into a coma. I dreamed that I had died and was reincarnated as a chicken. While walking around the barnyard, I was approached by a rooster. We got to talking, me being the "new chick" in town. Suddenly, I got a strange feeling, like I wanted to push out a turd. The rooster told me to relax, I was about to lay an egg. I started to push, and out popped a beautiful egg, then, suddenly, another one popped out! I felt quite euphoric, until I felt this violent shaking. It was my wife, yelling "Wake up, you drunken slob! You've just shit in the bed!!!"
Son Pere, I feel so close to you right now. Really, we need to get together and tell more, "I just shit myself" stories. I can't help but feel like the little kid in Billy Madison after pissing himself and having the older, cooler guy fake pissing himself to make the little kid feel better.
That story is pretty disturbing on so many different levels. Thank you.
-Gilbert
Yer welcome!
Yikes.
aaah, my husband.
can i mention that i was sleeping...sleeping for about five hours at that point...and he came upstairs, turned all the lights on, and wanted to have a heart to heart discussion about the poop, the showers, the cleanup- all to his pregnant, sleeping, nauseous wife? that's love.
i still won't let the kids play on the lawn, btw. :)
UNREAL.
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