First of all, the Pokemon run probably wont continue since I.. eh... well, lost that phone. And the one replacing that. And the next one fell into the toilet. But the new one is looking good so far!. With that phone, there were the savegames and the screenshots I took, so now I see those posts and think "what could have been if I'vent been a dipshit?". Oh well, perhaps one day I will continue them with another game, or just forget about it entirely and that's it.
Yes, this blog has been as dead as your sex life (buuuuurn). It's been a rough couple of months. Well, more like a year. Ok, make that year and a half. Jeez, guys, don't be like that. The idea is that with this revival, I will try to write more. Or at least, look at past posts and laugh like an idiot (seriously, I forgot what I already wrote, and I just fucking laughed out loud with the last post I wrote here).
So let me tell you a story. A story about pills and gases. About the connection my body has to the deepest bowels of Hell. Let me tell you about...
THE SHIT
I had a minor surgery a few months ago (just a normal, regular kidney transplant, you know, common stuff), and they gave me pills to stay healthy. It's not that bad, I mean, it's 10-15 pills a day, but at least I'm not, you know, dead. So I have that going on for me, which is nice.
These pills have the tendency of making me gassy. And I don't mean just a little small fart that doesn't have any smell or do any sound. No, I'm talking about huge, ear and asshole ripping farts. The kind that can be heard from three miles away. The kind that scares cats and leave dogs deaf. Those who, when they come out, are holding a huge sign that says "HEY, GUYS, THIS GUY JUST FARTED, C'MON, SMELL IT, IT LOOKS LIKE HE ATE SOME SPACE RACCOON SHIT WITH YOGURT THAT'S HAS SEEN BETTER DAYS IN 1976". That kind.
My current work has me sitting for 8 hours in front of a computer, making the gasses accumulate inside my body, like some Nazi experiment. And I feel them. I feel them inside me, moving from side to side, trying to reach into the nearest hole. Sometimes they convert and transforms into normal and more socially acceptable burps, but not every time. I know that if I don't expel them soon enough, my body will be like a huge balloon full of dead smell.
 |
| Goku died for your smells. |
The problem is that I don't like taking a shit at work. Or at any public bathroom for that matter. Not that they aren't clean, they are (or as clean as a public bathroom can actually be). But I feel judged by everyone, and if I know that someone is in the bathroom with me, I can't possibly unleash the shit Kraken with the pleasure and respect the beast deserves. I feel that if I do it and someone hears it, it will become gossip in the office, and I will forever be known as the Shit Maker (the Shit Beast Tamer would be far more awesome and adequate).
So, no, I don't take a shit at work. But my ass has a huge shit at the door, a shit who thinks that its time to meet the rest of the world and perhaps make friends along the way. So what do I do?
I hold it like a champ (hence the "Tamer" part of my absolutely perfect and awesome nickname)
I normally take two hours to get from work to home, where I can shit normally and without any complain (except for my family, but we are a huge family of shitters and farters, so it's in our genes). But on the bus and subway, the shit evolves. It starts gaining conscience. It becomes self aware. He (because I know it's a He, every single time) proceeds to fill my body with his tentacles and reach my brain, making me some kind of a Shit Mazinger. Since I have to take one floor of stairs to reach my home, every single step becomes a complete and a total pain in the ass.
...c'mon, you had to see that one coming!
Like some Shit Pavlov, as I get closer to the door (and, of course, the bathroom), the Shit Beast tries harder and harder to reach out. It becomes a chest buster. He knows I'm closer and closer. He just knows. It's Shawshank Redemption inside my body, and my intestines are Morgan Freeman. And then I reach the toilet.
And it all turns brown.
A HUGE explosion of shit covers all the insides of the until then white toilet. The shock can be felt from a huge distance. I can feel every single muscle of my body relaxing, after hours and hours of trying to tame it. The Beast is gone and I feel at peace.
Right until the next day when all starts again.
Perhaps it is my destiny. Perhaps it's my mutant power. It is my curse. It is my blessing.
No, wait, it is a fucking curse. Can you possible imagine what this smells like? It feels like my asshole becomes an inter dimensional vortex that connects our plane of reality to some unholy, Elder Gods like place where this kind of smells are created and send over the unsuspecting people, using guys like me as the nexus. That's the only possible explanation that I can think of, since all of the rest involves me eating healthier and fuck that shit.
I said shit so much time it lost it's charm.
Shit.
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