Tuesday, and shitThis post is not from the heart. It comes from a bit lower....
Today's been one of those days where I wake up with my bowels saying "Chief? We're gonna shit in 10 seconds. It's not a question of when, but where, now."
And it's been going much the same ever since.
And at risk of falling into a Jim Gaffigan comedy routine, I advise against the newer Hot Pocket breakfast sammiches, the ones made in the shape of a big old biscuit. They made for a quick and not entirely nauseating supper last night, but the consequences far outweighed the benefits.
So. Stay away. Unless crapping your soul away is your cup of tea.
If it is, have at it. Try the ones with sausage. They're the ones that opened up the floodgates for me.
Consider this my foray into shitblogging:
The top 5 cases of the runs in my life:
5. Last year of college, too much beer. Had a film class in one of the nice new classrooms in the newly opened Business/Aerospace building at MTSU. Had to crap. Both men's and women's restrooms were located in a nook. All I saw was a nook with a sign over it with a little man. I went in and did my business in a stall. Had to hit a stall so quickly I didn't noticed that this particular restroom had no urinals. Yep. In my hurry, I failed to notice that the other side of the sign had the little skirt lady. The women's room was on the left, and the men's on the right.
As pissed off as the one girl was at my having intruded into the women's room, I'm lucky the campus cops didn't cart me away.
4. Second year of college, too much fiber.
I had a Public Policy class in one of the older buildings on campus. The room was WAY too small for the 20 or so people in the class. The room was intended to be a conference room, I think, or maybe a coat closet--the room was that small. They crammed us in there, shoulder to shoulder, to discuss Public Policy. Literally. We sat in regular chairs, and we were almost shoulder to shoulder for the duration of class....we ended up moving to the lobby of the building, and just having class there (or outside, if the day was nice) for the duration of that semester, and I like to think this particular incident was the catalyst:
During one particular discussion, I had to crap. And I was trapped in the far corner of the room. The rumbling hit me early in the class. I clenched. I willed myself not to have to crap. I held it with every fiber of my being. But, as most of you know, that rumbling just won't be denied. I like to think of it as a triumph of will to have held it the 45 minutes that I did (it was a 90 minute, twice a week class).
Well, we hit a stopping point in the class, and I stood up. My professor said "we're not quite done."
"I'll be back," I said, "But I'm about to be sick."
I still love the way the waters parted. Charlton Heston wouldabeen proud. People were falling backwards over their chairs to give me a clear path. I had never before nor have since wielded that sort of power.
I re-entered the class a few minutes later, much more relaxed, comfortable and ready to learn.
Dr. Langenbach said "if you're sick, you don't need to be here making us sick."
"No, no," I said. "I just need to monitor my fiber intake a bit more..."
Now, I don't think it was fiber really that gave me the craps...but I can't discount it; it seemed as good a thing to blame as any right then. However, I don't think the woman ever laughed so hard in her life. I had two more classes with Dr. Langenbach over the course of my political science minor, and she was my minor advisor, and she got a huge kick out of asking me how my fiber intake was for years after....
3. Atlanta, same weekend of the O.J. Simpson Bronco chase, too many peanuts and Fulton County Stadium Hot Dogs.
I was 16 that summer, and the family had taken a trip to Atlanta to catch a Braves game or three. It was a Sunday, and the weekend of greasy food, ballgame peanuts and summer dehydration hit me as we walked from the Stadium to our car.
What still gets me about that day is how pissed my Dad got. Like it was my fault I had diarrhea, and was holding us up walking to the car. I'd walk about twenty steps, and then I'd have to stop, clench, and let everything settle into a position where I could walk again.
I went into the KFC by the stadium. Back when it was just a KFC, and not a combo Taco Bell like it is now. And I had a Kramer moment. The urge passed. Try as I might to crap, I couldn't get it to go.
I made it to the van, eventually. Just north of downtown Atlanta, the urge hit again.
I still can't pass that McDonald's in Atlanta without thinking of that horrible day when that homeless man in the Fulton County Stadium parking lot asked my folks what was wrong with me "Whaswrong? Hegottashit?"
2. Last October, National Baseball Hall of Fame. Too much beer. See,
Steven and I got taken to a nice little German pub up in Syracuse, where we drank, and then his family came over, and we kept drinking. It was one of those occasions where I wouldn't be able to finish a beer without somebody sticking another in my hand.
Well, the combination of beer, pasta, beer, bread, beer and sausage came to a burbling head the next day, as we visited the Baseball Hall of Fame. Somewhere around the Baseball Through the Years exhibits, on the second floor, it hit me. I crapped in the bathroom nearest to the display of Hack Wilson's Cubs jersey.
It was a monumental thing. A horrible thing. The smell bothered me. The smell was horrible. Like somebody was burning pig carcasses deep inside my guts.
In my mind, I was afraid that somebody would call the cops, and because of my bringing the plague to mankind, they'd have to burn everything that I'd poisoned in the Hall of Fame, they'd have to close the Hall of Fame forever. As a Health Hazard.
But that didn't happen. Thankfully.
1. The number one number two of my life.
President Reagan came to Athens when I was in the second grade. I remember the whole week before, all the schools were worked into a tizzy, and we all did things like draw pictures and learn about the presidents. I think one of the classes at our school got to sing at the little event where Reagan spoke at the Courthouse.
Well, that day, we were out of school. I guess so we could go see the President speak. I used it as an excuse to watch the Cartoon Express on the USA Network.
Now, I've always been a cold cereal eatin' sumbitch. And nothing goes with Cartoon Express like cold cereal. Well, that morning, there was none of my cereal in the house. No Cheerios. No Rice Chex. No Apple Jacks. Nothing, except for the big box of All Bran that one of my folks had been eating. To relieve a bit of backup, I guess. Well, I found the All Bran, and fixed myself a huge heaping bowl of that mess.
Reagan spoke later in the afternoon. By that time, the All Bran had a chance to work on my young digestive tract, which was apparently in no need of the help.
While President Reagan spoke, it was carried on the TV. I know this, because I could hear the TV from the toilet. The toilet is where I spent the bulk of that afternoon, cramping and letting out wet puffs of nastiness. I still can't think of President Reagan without associating with him the pink and white tile that was in that bathroom.
Yep. Missed the president because of diarrhea.
Anyway. Maybe I should get out and do something constructive today....
