...you crap your pants like a lil baby. So, the other day, I'm not feeling so good in the morning after I drop Katie off at work. Serious rumble! Nasty diarrhea! You name it! Later that afternoon I'm feeling much better and I think the pain and torture are all over. So, Abby wants to go swimming in the pool in our complex and I say, "Sure I'm feeling better, should be pretty safe". We get to the pool and first thing I do is make sure the doors to the restrooms are unlocked - they are! Yes! They're other families there enjoying the facilities and its a beautiful day and everything is hunky-dory. I'm in the clear...I think. Well a lil bit later we're almost ready to get out and go home when I feel some serious aftershocks, rumble, rumble! At this point I'm thinking, "OK, it feels like just a fart, but I had a tough morning so we could have a lil some-some make an escape from you know where. I tell Abby I'm headed for the bathroom and as I wade towards the steps to exit, the rumble gets worse, and those terrible ass-cramps start. And I'm like, "Uh-oh, I'm in trouble!" I get out of the pool OK, and make the bee-line for the restroom squeezing my cheeks like there IS NO TOMORROW! Now, I'm wearing slightly out of fashion Walmart swim trunks that have served me well for about 3-4 summers and they're a lil tight (I've gained 1 or 2 lbs. since I bought them) and soaking wet. So, to get these puppies off with any speed is basically not an easy task. I get the bathroom door with tears coming out of my ducts and get inside and slam the door. (The family sitting next to the bathrooms thought I was mad for some reason). I slip n' slide as fast as I can towards the toilet and turn around and start tugging on those stupid trunks with all my might and get them to about half way down my thighs when Mt. St. Helens erupts with all her fury. And as most of you know, when it starts, theres nothing you can do to stop it but try somehow to get out of the way. When it was all said and done it looked as if a chocolate bomb had went off in the restroom. (Actually, this is super embarrassing retelling this story). Well, after I clean up as much as I can (It was really gross and I felt bad for the next guy!) and soak my trunks in hot water from the sink for about 15 minutes, I put back on my semi-poopy swim trunks, and walked out of that restroom and looked straight at Abby in the pool and said, "Kid, we're outta here!"
7 comments:
Ron, this is disgusting. But it sounds like a story I'd tell as a part of a message.
Holy Smokes Ron!....I'm glad that didnt happen in MY bathroom last night! You where in there ALONG time.
well done Ron. sounds like a stand-up routine that Kathy Griffin would tell.
Ooops, I craped my pants....they are coming your way for Christmas!
If there was ever a reason for blogging, this post was it! The global bitstream of worthless information is now forever blessed with this eloquent tale of seismic crappage! I wouldn't miss it :)
Tom came downstairs literally crying after he read this--not out of sympathy or understanding, but of sheer brotherly ridicule!! Seriously, though, it sounds like you might want to get a colonoscopy sometime.
Although, now that I think about it, Tom is one to laugh--he's had his own poopy problem at least once that I know of!
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