First of all, can we all take a look at the Google ads posted to the left? Please note that these are based upon the articles I write, and what do I get? Ads about full-figured briefs and urinary incontinence. Sigh. I will sit on my bed and meditate upon the fact that I am not fat, nor do I pee my pants...alll the time.
So, a brief story. We all know of my fondness for poo humor. I think it's funny. I can be blunt about it. I think people are too uptight about it. However, I don't want you seeing me shitting. I don't want to see YOU shitting. And I sure as hell would prefer if I lived my life with no physical interaction with poo. Unfortunately life doesn't play that way. I had to once blow ass, singing and covered, while my ex-boyfriend showered, when he refused to leave the single bathroom in his townhome. I once had to endure a conversation with my ex-fiance on the toilet as he shat. And of course, I've had WAY too many encounters with the actual stuff that only bad dreams are made of, and it's not so funny when it's up close and personal.
Today definitely made the top five of my poo encounters. I have a Nextel phone for work, and am supposed to carry it with me at all times. Many a time, I have been told that I need to wear the pants clip thing to hold it near my hip. That just doesn't fly with me, and I've refused. Instead, it's always either in my hand, pocket or purse depending on where I am. Today the phone was in the pouch pocket of my sweathshirt.
It was late afternoon. The sky was blue, the temperature about 65 degrees. Life was good. I felt a weight in my tummy and knew it was time to poo. I went to the single shooter ladies room at my office and released. I felt better and life was better. Then came the next part...I had to wipe.
I made it a few wipes into the process when it happened. In wiping, I had to lean forward a bit and then BLOP! My phone somehow managed to slide out of my pouch pocket and into the watery grave of the toilet. I made a loud noise...a mix of a loud gasp and a scream. I heard my Mom call out, "WHAT?" And I laughed. My toilet had fallen into a toilet full of shit.
I did not want to do this, but I HAD to! I thrust my hand into the water, carefully maneuvering around the pile I had created, grabbed my phone and threw it on the floor. I laughed my ass off and continued to do so as I then sat back down and finished wiping. Once finished, I flushed, washed my hands, and whipped open the door. My Mom came running and there we stood looking at the lifeless corpse of phone laying in a small puddle of water on the floor.
"I dropped my phone in my shit, " I said, answering the question my Mother had not spoken.
Like the surgeon that is buried deep within all mothers, she ran for the paper towels. Handing me a few squares, she spouted, "Wipe up the floor." In the same instant, she scooped up the phone with paper towels and walked to my desk to get the Purell. Like a nurse tending to a wound, she carefully wiped down my phone.
Laughter ensued the entire time. Then came the kicker. As she wiped down my phone, she laughed harder as she showed me the paper towel....my phone had shit on it. I kid you not, there was full on poo on my phone. Not a lot, but hey, a little dab will do yah. And still with the love of a mother, she continued to sanitize my poo-phone. I love my mom. I would have thrown it in the garbage.
My phone is currently in the refrigerator at the office. We found something online about doing so, that the fridge acts as a dehumidifier. We did so earlier, and then tried to get it to work. Alas, it was dead. We're rooting for it's recovery, as the thing we read said to leave it in the fridge for 24 hours.
I'm not sure if the phone will survive. Personally, after knowing that the phone rested upon my poo, I'm not sure I WANT it to survive. It's like that episode of Seinfeld where George brings the book into the bathroom, and it gets marked. My phone is marked. It's tainted. It's a dirty, dirty phone.
It's total, fucking Karma, I think.
