It felt like I was trying, with my colon, to keep a timpani player from sounding out his most important part in "Also Spracht Zarathustra."
Strike that: it was not merely my colon, or the timpanist, who had a part to play. If you have ever strained to keep an urgent bowel movement silent, you'll know that it involves a total-body tension replete with forehead sweat, shaking, and hoarsely cursed indictments of the lower intestine that simply won't bow to reason.
Nevertheless, and gamely, I played traffic cop on the backup within, passing the clammy time by listening to nearby phone conversations and sneezes.
As soon as it began, it seemed to have run its course, and I set to tidying myself, turning to review and dismiss the damage. It was as I stood thus, that I realized certain precincts had yet to be heard from.
Wrrrplrbufuurrrg, said these precincts, some of them, while another offered PPflyarbggbg.
I sat back down. Crestfallen, I lay my head in my hands.
Then I noticed that the left side of my nose felt . . . wet. I pulled my hands away from my face. My left middle finger was brown.
OH. MY. CRAP.
To be continued!
Posted by FLOG at May 5, 2007 12:52 AM | TrackBackOh god. The horror, the horror.
Posted by: Sho at May 6, 2007 2:25 PMDoes this mean you've become a brown-noser?
Har de har de har de har.
Posted by: Brandon at May 6, 2007 7:19 PMSure, I'm a brown-noser -- for my OWN ASS. And let me tell you, folks: sniffing your own ass doesn't get you very far in this world, but at least you know where you've been.
Posted by: FLOG at May 6, 2007 9:45 PMI still don't quite understand how the poo got on your hand but I imagine that will be revealed in the next thrilling installment of this 465 part series titled "Better Know Your Bunghole."
Posted by: Brandon at May 7, 2007 8:53 PMI'm ... troubled ...
Posted by: Kenny at May 7, 2007 9:19 PMDude, I am frightened. This story must be brought to its conclusion!
Posted by: vague at May 8, 2007 10:18 AMSomebody forgot to cauterize the bunghole.
Posted by: Timothy at May 8, 2007 9:23 PM"I still don't quite understand how the poo got on your hand"
The poo got on my hand during the course of events.
"Dude, I am frightened. This story must be brought to its conclusion!"
We're getting there. It's my intention to wrap it up and then hide it beneath a glut of inane photographs that will help you understand what my dogs are up to.
"Somebody forgot to cauterize the bunghole."
It's to elicit comments like this, that I am telling this story.
Posted by: FLOG at May 8, 2007 9:54 PMThe "course of events" will surely be explained during the next installment, no?
Posted by: Brandon at May 12, 2007 9:33 AMWhat you get is what you get.
Haven't you ever wiped and then not everything went on the toilet paper?
Come on!
AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS LIVED?
Posted by: FLOG at May 12, 2007 9:43 PMYou know I've endured some gastrointestinal horrors in my time...the sorts of thing that would drive many men to madness. Still, I don't think I've ever had poo get on my hand. I mean, like, how could that even happen? Do you only use one square at a time? Sheryl Crowe has gotten to you, hasn't she?
Posted by: Brandon at May 14, 2007 9:18 PM