Once again, my friend Kristin has bestowed upon me another guest post.
If you haven't read any of her stuff before, you can find some great tidbits at the following locations:
1: How to Scare a Celebrity
2: How Her Husband Got a Stinky Winky
3: Kristin Lets One Rip
That last one is her first guest post here.
It dealt with her going poo.
This one, alas, is no different.
I'm not quite sure what her f*cking problem is.
You've been warned.
Anyway - thanks, Kristin!!
So years ago I went to Newport, RI with my boyfriend's mother.
On our way home, I drank a big Dunkin Donuts coffee - which was not something I was used to having.
(editor's note: Dunkin Donuts is a phenomenal coffee/donut chain around the Northeast U.S....they actually have drinkable coffee...unlike f*cking Starbucks in Seattle...which tastes similar to drinking the results of an enema)
Shortly after finishing the coffee, I started getting REALLY BAD cramps.
I felt kind of stupid asking her to pull over somewhere so I could go, so I just suffered through it until she said that she had to get gas.
YES! Thank God! I CAN POO!
We pulled into a gas station and she got out - I, however, was in the middle of a major contraction so I could not. When it was over, though, I ran inside to the convenient store that was attached.
So I go to the last aisle and then see the sign for the bathroom.
Through my teary eyes I read the sign:
"Please ask for the key at the counter."
I was thinking: "HOLY SHIT...I'M NOT GONNA MAKE IT."
So I go up to the front and wait in line at the counter. Of course, I was like the 4th f*cking person.
By the time I got up there I had sweat pouring down my face.
I quickly asked for the key and then went back to the bathroom.
As expected it was a totally disgusting public bathroom.
Diligently, I went to work.
I worked as fast as I could to cover up every friggin inch of that f*cking disgusting toilet with toilet paper because - for this puppy - I HAD to sit down.
(Editor's note: I love it when a woman endearingly calls her shit "puppy" - it's so cute)
Once I was done covering everything, I pulled my pants down as quickly as I could.
Unfortunately, this created a breeze that blew the toilet paper right off - leaving a bare toilet seat.
There was no time to fix it.
Because it came out like a firehose - that's why.
I couldn't stop it even if I tried.
It was LOUD.
It smelled terribly, horribly BAD.
I was actually embarrassed because I could see people walking by the bathroom through the grate on the bottom of the door.
The smell HAD to be drifting out there into the store.
When I was finally done, I wiped my ass and pulled up my pants.
I turned around and almost passed out.
SHIT. WAS. EVERYWHERE.
Shit ON the toilet?
Shit on the floor?
Shit on the f*cking wall?
(Editor's note: ON THE F*CKING WALL?!?!)
I got paper towels and started cleaning it up but I couldn't stop gagging...
...so I just washed my hands and got the hell out of there.
Now every time I complain about a disgusting public bathroom I think of how I contributed to that.
(Editor's note: My condolences to the family of Guapo the janitor who had to clean up after you).
You know, I had some complaints that I hadn't talked about poo here in a while.
I think this just about covers this blog for - oh - about a f*cking year or so.
Oh, and sorry guys, Kristin's married.
I know how depressed this probably makes you.
Not nearly as depressed as Guapo the convenience store janitor, though.
If you're interested in doing a guest post, shoot me an email here and let me know.