Ah Sheet Mahself!

Poop and I have had a long and fruitful relationship.  We have always managed to stay together for 30 years regardless of all the arguments we have gotten into.  Despite the awkwardness and discomfort that Poop can sometimes bring, I always seem to bring it up in conversation, even in private.  Sometimes I feel like I will never truly be rid of Poop.  It's just always there.

I sit in front of my computers for endless hours trying to think up of ways to relegate the factual stories of my life to you, the reader, in new and entertaining ways.  Somehow my mind goes completely blank, and an oblong brown log comes spiralling out of the darkness to encompass my mind, whispering in the darkness one word, over and over again: Poop, Poop.

It's haunting...yet funny.  I get the giggles every time.  I find it uncomfortable, yet relieving, that no matter how hard I try, I can't stop passing up poop.

So I have succumbed to the horrible truth that Poop will always be funny, and that the only way to exorcise my personal demons is to cast those same demons onto you.  Here now is my latest Poop Demon!

One evening my girlfriend and I decided it would be a fantastic idea to "go out" like normal couples do.  We both figured it would be fun to join some friends for fun, laughter, drinks and debauchery.  A best friend of mine asked us if we wanted to join him and his special lady friend out to a comedy club that they swore up and down was the funniest place on earth, more so than MASH reruns on TBS.

We arrived at said comedy club after getting lost, several almost car wrecks and a run in with a gang war.  I immediately knew something was wrong once I thought that we arrived late and looked around to notice that the club was empty.  Nevertheless I kept my optimism high, for the night was young(er)!

All of us then democratically decided to order food and drink to make the night better.  I remember ordering something that resembled a prime rib.  I say resembled, because it definitely looked like it, but upon my first bite it tasted more like a moist beef bouillon cube.  Good stuff.

Once the "Comedians" started their act I wanted to commit Seppuku to end the unfunniness.  Unfortunately the knives that were available were barely sharp enough to cut through my Prime Bouillon much or less my intestines, so I was stuck with a bunch of overweight Dane Cook/Gallagher hybrid acts.  On top of that the "comedians" found out the only way they could be "funny" was by constantly picking on my girlfiend.  Needless to say, she was not having a good time.

Unfortunately for me though, what started out as a terrible night ended up turning into a horrifying night. Somehow, and god knows how, one of the said "funny men" made me chuckle.  I don't remember if it was out of general humor, or my embarassment for them, but it did happen.  Little did I know that there would be a price I would pay for my laughter.

Once I let out that tiny chuckle, I felt a strange, wet, acidic warmth spread throughout my lower regions.  It was not pleasant, it was not solid and it smelled like bouillon. I had just shit myself.

I knew what bodily sin I had just committed, but I was not about to stand up, declare it to the world and then run off to the bathroom.  I played it cool, like a cool man would.  I casually took a long sip from my $5 bottle of beer, looked around to seem even more casually cool, then got up and did a cheek clenching shuffle/walk to the bathroom to undo the damage I had done.  The entire way I could feel something running down my legs.

After getting into the bathroom stall and whiping away the tears in my eyes, I peeled away my clothes to see the damage that was done.  I will be the gentleman here and spare you the damage of giving you a description of what I saw, the horrible gritty feeling I felt through every swab of toilet paper that I dabbed on my leg, or the putrid smell of baby shit mixed with battery acid that filled the air.  But I will say that I did not know that the human body could make a solid turn into a liquid that fast.

Sadly the night did not end quickly.  After cleansing my body, I had to go back out and endure another hour or so of "comedy" before we could leave.  Sitting through hilariously unfunny comedy in shit stained underwear, and possibly stained pants is not a fun thing to do. I don't hesitate to not recommend it.

On top of that, In that hour I had to endure comedy hell, I ended up making three more trips to the bathroom to ensure I wasn't hit with another bodily excrement exit surprise.

So when it was all finally over, and we all got to leave, nobody was in a really good mood.  Everyone complained about how nothing was funny, everything was expensive.  I tried to be funny and say "hey guess what I did!", but thankfully no one heard me or just didn't believe me.  The night ended with a warm shower full of soap and tears.

Honestly I feel like I pulled off the whole incident rather well.  No one knew what happened until I said something (like now), I kept a fairly balanced emotional state (until now), and somehow nobody smelt a thing.  Apparently my shit doesn't stink (which is a lie).

I am not surprised one bit that this happened to me though.  I come from a long line of self shitters.  It runs in the family.  I think there has been at least two people in each generation of my family that has shit themselves at least once.  My Grandma being one of them.  The title of this Fact is actually a quote from her during one such incident that my sister was privy to witness. Now I belong among those ranks.

So it's a Fact: When I poop myself I get those tiny little red pimples just like babies do when you don't change their diaper right away.  They itch.