Here we go again...OK, so I woke up super early this morning, at like 545am, because I had this presentation to give in Bellingham at 8, which is about and hour and a half give or take from Seattle. I roll out of bed, take a piss and eat breakfast. Then I go back to the bathroom and sit down to pinch a loaf. Fuckin' a. It was one of those were you have to go wicked bad, but for some reason you just can’t. Giving up on it, I get my shit together and my friend picks me up in his dads BMW, which is not a slow car at all. We get on the freeway and my stomach is a little bit upset, but no worries. The car has pretty tight suspension, so you could really feel the road and every bump my stomach would get all pissed. Then it all started. It felt like a fart, but I knew it wasn’t, so I fought it like a champion, I was sweating and shit holding it in. I got through that one, but my stomach still felt like shit. This happened three more times, but after the third it didn’t hurt anymore…I thought I was in the clear. By now we are about twenty minutes out of Bellingham and I’m feeling all right. But ohhhh no, boom it hits me again, worse that before. I contemplate asking my buddy to stop at a gas station so I could unload, but we were almost there. Once again it all cleared up, but once again it returned just as bad if not worse. I was in an all out war with my o-ring, and I was winning, but not for long. I fought off the last attack, but I was getting pretty nervous, they were coming quicker and more powerful every time…kind of like labor, but instead of a baby it was the evil, disgustingness inside of my intestines. There is a fifteen-mile stretch between the last town and Bellingham where there are only one or two places to stop…there’s not even a shoulder. I’m really confident that I am going to make it…I have to, there are no more places to stop. But then, all of a sudden, the worst attack of all hit me like a ton of bricks, except this one didn’t fade away. I tried to act calm, “Dude, do you think you could pull over.” Of At first he didn’t hear me, so I repeated myself, but of course he’s like, “hell no.” So I got pissed and told him what was up. The problem of course was that there was no shoulder to pull over on and we were on a freeway. He fucking guns the Bavarian beast and we’re going 125 swerving through all these commuters who are going ape shit, finally there is a gas station sign, so we get off…I’m sweating bullets by now fighting this brown Satan inside of me. Of course there is no gas station in site, but there is a park and ride, so he flies in there and pulls over next to this guy chilling in his car. I burst out and run into this tree, but the branches went all the way to the ground so I couldn’t lean against it and it was all on a slope. I couldn’t think anymore, I just had to do it. So I dropped ‘em and held on to a branch for dear life and opened the peanut butter floodgates…wow. Fucking volcanic eruption out of my ass. Then I realize there are no leaves in site, the tree was a pine or some other gymnosperm. So what did I do? I meticulously took off my pants and used my underwear, which worked terrific, only I had to ditch them. Luckily I was wearing fleece pants and lacrosse shorts too, so I wasn’t going commando in jeans or nothing. Anyhow, I didn’t shit my pants, although I came pretty fucking close. When I came out I gave the guy in the car a nod and we took off. Then it all happened again, luckily we were close and I actually got to use a toilet this time. I hate my stomach. I’m still feeling the affects of whatever the fuck I had right now…I can’t really call it the squirts, because it looks more like piss yet it smells like fish. Plus I’ve got sap on my hand from the damn tree.
''Never trust anyone until you see their private parts.''
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