It’s time for TMI Thursday, brought to you by LiLu. As she always says, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
Today's TMIT was inspired by my muse, Just a Girl.
When I was in college, there was a girl us student managers absolutely loved to hate. She was an athletic trainer for the fooseball team and did a lot more than just medical treatments for the guys.
She was a Class-A bitch, too. One of those "I'm-the-shit" kind of girls who in actually is the ugly friend? You know those girls. They photo shop their facebook pictures to make themselves look thinner and tanner while their friends are all distorted?
This is a story about her unfortunate run-ins with body fluids - and how she got the nick-name "Oh Shit."
Story #1: Poop Check
Setting: House Party
Oh Shit's Level of Drunk: 11 out of 10
Ever been so drunk that you couldn't tell if you shit your pants or not? Well, she was. There are no words I can string together that would give this story justice. You just had to be there. However, below is the conversation I witnessed:
Oh Shit: "I think I shit my pants."
Slutbag Friend: "No way! Are you sure?"
OS: "I think so..." ::reached down pants to check in the middle of the room::
SF: "That's gross, ********."
OS: ::pulls hand of of pants only to discover she did, in fact, shit her pants:: "Oh Shit!" ::runs shit-covered limb THROUGH HER HAIR::
Oh shit, indeed.
Story #2: Puke-tacuklar
Setting: Local Dive Bar
Oh Shit's Level of Drunk: 8 out of 10
It was a Saturday night after a home football game. Everyone who was involved in the football team was drinking their faces off to forget the fact that they had to do it all again come Monday.
One player had a little too much to drink and proceeded to do what any red-blooded kid who just slammed 260,o82 beers on an empty stomach does: vomited. Everywhere. On himself, on the floor, and in the cup he was holding. Afterward, he placed the cup on the table he was sitting at and walked away like nothing happened. (Who does that?!)
Being the ever so pleasant person
Until she walked by. It was at this moment in time I felt it was appropriate to take a long, slow drink to preoccupy my mouth.
I swear this seriously happened in slow motion. She sauntered by sashaying her non-existent hips.
Her left heel hit the puke.
She began to slip.
She grabbed the table to steady herself. (Now here is where I need to remind you that Pukey McFootball Player left his vomit-filled cup on said table.)
The table didn't hold. And as she fell into the source of her slip on the ground, the glass left on the table fell onto her.
She. Was. Soaked. In. Vomit.
It was glorious.
Oh shit, indeed.