Wednesday, October 22, 2008

You try to poop with grown man outside your window

I was supposed to work late, but the janitorial service showed up just as I was headed to the bathroom to drop my contents. I decided that I would rather stink up my own bathroom than to hear Tashiqua tell her home girl "Oh no she di'unt! Why girl goan stink up da bafroom like dat? Das nasty!" Like she's a delicate flower who doesn't poop.

I decided to go ahead and go home so I could poop in the peace and quiet of my own bathroom at the far end of the house, with the door shut. Without worry that someone would follow 5 minutes later and possibly acknowledge loudly to the world that I had just pooped. The levels of mortification would push me over the edge.

Drive, curse, flip other driver the finger, drive, park, run to the bathroom.

Ahhhhhhh, relief is soon upon me.

(mumble mumble)

What the hell?

(mumble mumble)

Who is that? It sounded like there were men having a conversation right outside the bathroom window. That can't be true, the dog run is right outside the bathroom window. It must be someone in the neighbors yard.

(mumble mumble)

Just relax, don't pay any attention to (mumble mumble, hahahaha).

Damn. Damn it. Damn.

Close your eyes and block out the (mumble mumble)

WHAT THE FUCK!

Okay, I can do this. Ignore the voices.

(mumble mumble)

What the? That sounds like... NO! It can't be!! I strained to listen. (mumble mumble)

OH MY GOD!! It was my son! He was on the phone!!! He sounded like a grown man!! With a deep voice and OH MY GOD when did his voice drop that low? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY LITTLE BOY????

I hate age 15, it turned him into this...this..little man type person with a grown up voice and I don't like it ONE DAMN BIT!

Suffice it to say, I abandoned poopville to go tell Lin what happen. I give her way too many things to laugh at me about. She snickered. More than snickered, she bellowed. Bitch. How I love her so, even though she laughs and makes fun of me.

At least we will have stories to tell the grandchildren.

.

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