Considering just how many of my IRL friends have started reading this blog I know I am probably going to regret posting this. But you know what? If you crazy faces chose to read, then you're getting all the obscene, inappropriate, and awful things that come with it. Just know that if you ridicule me, I will find ways to seek revenge on your sorry asses. Enjoy yourselves!
Alright, folks, 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!
It was just like any normal day in Mrs. Demon’s* fourth grade class, really. We all took our seats that morning and diligently paid attention to our daily cursive, spelling, and arithmetic lessons.
However, on this particular day, a woman from the high school counseling office was coming to talk to the class about this crazy thing called “self-esteem.” (Apparently my public school district felt that at the tender age of nine, we were all destined to be cast in Dr. Phil’s Sex Rehab.)
While this normally would have been a welcome distraction in the mundane activities of the day, the woman’s visit happened to be during the exact time that our class would normally take our afternoon bathroom break… which was also the time that my body decided was its time to be “regular” (Let me tell you, I had a stellar digestive system as a child).
Me: “Can I please use the bathroom?”
Ms. Everyone is Special: “I am so sorry sweetie, but I can’t let you leave the classroom. You’ll just have to wait for your teacher to come back.” ::big cheesy smile::
Now what I should have said was, “BITCH! I have to poop!” But I was awkward and timid and constantly afraid of getting in trouble. So I sat tight (literally).
Three minutes later… I started fidgeting a bit.
Seven minutes later… I started sweating.
Twelve minutes later… my innards felt like it was being cleaved with a hacksaw.
Finally, my body couldn’t take it any longer and for the first time in my potty trained life, I shit my pants.
I cried the whole
* I cannot remember her real name for the life of me. I must have repressed the memory...