I don’t usually chat on about bathroom humor but sometimes it’s impossible not to share.
I’m in my kitchen yesterday about to eat something and I feel for like the third day in a row,
itchy ass. I’m not talking about ass so much as I’m referring to itchy asshole. I mean, I’ll go
like three years without a single memory of an I.A. and then it’ll be like a cluster. I got a
buddy who is a lifelong bachelor and without remorse or concern, rocks a box of
“BabyWipes” on top of both of his shitters. I thought quickly, I wish I had a god damn baby
wipe right now. Then said screw it and ran a paper towel under the faucet, dropped trow
and got after it. When I was pulling up my pants I looked behind me and saw my neighbor
Bobby with the leaf blower in his hands motionlessly frozen. Attached to the kitchen there’s
a big old window in the dinning room facing his yard and in the morning you can see how
bloodshot my eyes are let alone get a mouthful of my ass. I thought, holy hell he’s gonna
think I’m into some weird sex shit. Then I got laughing and had to exit the room. I mean we
have a beer once in awhile, but we’re not friends by any means, if it was a buddy I’d of
taken my time and gotten into it, but a retired phone company guy out for a brisk morning of
blowing leaves and he gets a front row seat to the rodeo? I finally just went for it and
decided to take my medicine and walked outside and up to Bob with my hands out, like hey
man my bad and he turned off the blower. I instinctually extended my hand for a shake and
Bob literally stepped back and just nodded, I thought, I wouldn’t shake that hand either so I
smiled and said,” Sorry Buddy that’s not cool.” He looked at me and said, “get some fucking
babywipes for the bathroom”.
The baby wipes are one great aspect of having three kids. They're like kleenex in my house. They are a life saver.
ReplyDeleteI was at school one time using the wings only Handicap Equipt bathroom that has been usurped and so kindly reassigned with the engraved plastic sign "staff only," taking my third period ritual with my hastily grabbed non-fiction in-hand, for round two. Round one was a nightmarish reunion with last nights Mexican fare prepared by my vegitarian wife that can't cook followed by wiping repeatedly with the school sandpaper-like excuse for tp. Left raw and somewhat unclean the turtle head reared its ugly head once again. Left somewhat destroyed, watery mouthed, and extremely raw I for the first time noticed a small chest of drawers adjacent to the commode. Curious, I withdrew the topmost pastic drawer to find the typical tampex variety and nasty pads and their vapor enclosing baggies. Second drawer, lysol disinfecting spray left mostly empty and one can febreeze spring fresh totally empty, disheartened I slammed that drawer closed hard enough to shatter the weak chinese plastic. Pulling the third drawer forcefully enough dislocate the arm of an average sixth grader I greatfully found one travel-size container of huggies-baby wipes, nearly full. Sweet relief arrived with little consideration for their disposal, knowing full well that flushing will often result in prompt need for a thirty foot snake or a pricy plumber, embarrassed no mortified by the prospect of leaving them in the trash I broke the cardinal rule. Flushed and ran back to the classroom, praying nobody saw the first year teachers swift exit.