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It's probably good for me to get this stuff off my chest.
Blog Archive
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2005
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February
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- Confession 44
- Confession 43
- Confession 42
- Confession 41
- Confession 40
- Confession 39
- Confession 38
- Confession 37
- Confession 36
- Confession 35
- Confession 34
- Confession 33 1/3
- Confessions 31 and 32
- Confession 30
- Confession 29?
- The Last Confession
- Confession 27
- Confession 26
- Confession 25
- Confession 24
- Confession 23
- Confession 22
- Confession 21
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February
(23)
9 comments:
Uhm....wow. That's all I have to say. Wow. Why didn't you just...no, I don't even want to think about it.
Glad to have you back :). And no, you can't have your goat back. It eats all my trash so I don't have to haul it down the stairs.
I'll bite.
HOW did that happen? And what was work back then? Not the same as work now, right?
I don't think I've ever laughed so hard at the first sight of anything written in my life. That is choice.
Ew, why would you do that?
Was it a shart? Sharts can be very dangerous, especially in bathing suits.
Okay, full story. I lived in the countryside of Napa Valley. And when I say countryside, I mean I lived in a house by myself five miles outside of city limits, and the bus didn't run there. I worked at In-N-Out Burger. That particular day I had a milkshake and then rode the bus to the grocery store closest to my part of the valley. Then I began my walk. What I had forgotten was that I don't do lactose very well. So after walking about a mile, I started to realize that something was VERY wrong. I started to panic. about a mile further along, I ducked off the road into the foliage and sat hanging over a branch of a large tree and did my business over the edge. It was really terrible stuff, let me tell you. Anyway, I used some leaves for hygenic purposes and stood up. What I hadn't realized was that I was sitting in such a way that as the crap was plopping over the edge of the branch, it was landing directly in my pants!
There I was in the woods, right about sunset, with three miles to walk before I got home, and my pants with a full load in them. After stalling for a few minutes, I finally decided that my only option would be to just pull up my pants and walk home. So I did.
It was terrible for the first mile or so. I was walking like a penguin or Down's syndrome kid. The stream ran all down my legs and then became quite cold, which I really didn't like. After a bit, though, I got used to the feeling and the smell. Soon I was walking along as usual. The mustard was in bloom back then, and I could hear the bees buzzing around the vineyards to pollinate the grapes. The red of the Indian Paintbrush on the roadside was forming a nice contrast with the yellows and greens of the hills. The sky that evening went a remarkable pink and lavender, and the sweet breeze carried the tunes of stellar jays and the babble of the creek. I arrived at my house in a deeply peaceful mood, despite the accident. It was all-in-all the most pleasant pooping-my-pants experience of my life.
have you had more then one then?
Well, when I was little, I'm guessing.
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