i shit my pants.
if you are laughing about that last statement, or if you think i am kidding, i’ll say it again…
i shit my pants.
earlier tonight i played some euker, watched the funniest documentary ever made (Country Boys on PBS), drank 12 beers, and ate some waffle house (chili covered hasbrowns). i’ve never had waffle house chili before. i said that to the waitress and she assured me that the chili is good.
i got home, read my numerous messages, and started to write a blog…
and then i shit my pants.
normally, your body lets you know that you may have to take a shit a few minutes in advance. my early warning system failed.
horribly.
it was like i aged 80 years and became suddenly incontinent.
now, i might have misled you a bit. my pants did not fill up with feces. and i did have some amount of warning. that warning was the horrible sensation of something more-than-a-fart trying, with mixed success, to escape from my bowels into the outside world. a world that does not appreciate poop.
as i attempted to run to the bathroom, i could feel more and more pressure. to keep my ass from exploding into my jeans, i squeezed my butt cheeks together. this made the short run to the bathroom difficult indeed.
i have discovered that chili covered hash browns look exactly the same coming out , as they did going in! consistency is a little more… mushy, however.
my buddy Chris Cantor said that my ass was smothered by my jeans and covered by my shit. a better Waffle House analogy, i have never heard.
i really don’t know what else to say. i could have easily covered this embarrassment up, but i don’t think that is fair to my faithful readers. i love you all.