when bathroom nightmares become reality...

I'm blaming the faceless IRS and preparation of taxes on my lack of posts this week. I'm blaming my erupting asshole on 4 long islands and an empty stomach. earlier in the week my friend and i were talking about how miserable it is when a co-worker tries talking to you through the stall at work. completely innapropriate behavior in the workplace. that's my private time (albeit on the companys time), i don't come over to your house and ask how the day is going while you're fucking your wife/pet koala. but revenge was swift and sweet on this occasion.

setting: bathroom, 11:15 am. co-worker in next stall.

me: (furious long island iced tea crap {loud splashing noise})

co-worker: wow. that didn't sound healthy.

me: please don't speak to me when I'm taking a shit.

co-worker: jeez, sorry man. bad morning?

me: (silence)

co-worker: whatever.

i hurried out of the bathroom furious with the interuption of my bowel movement. plotting what path of revenge i would take. urinate in his coffee? stuff a dead hooker in trunk? swastika screen saver? but then i noticed the gods had already lightning bolted his monkey ass with the swift kendo stick of karma.

as i saw him walking back to his desk i noticed something on the back of shirt. i was overwhelmed with glee, for he had pulled the ultimate shit break mishap. there it was, as clear as day, big ol' skid mark on the lower portion of his tommy bahama short sleeved atrocity. obviously he was wiping in the standard upwards motion, must have dragged dookie from his own exhaust pipe and streaked it on his shirt. how long before he notices this? could be hours, could be all day, could be never. he'll be sniffing around constantly, wondering if he stepped in something, wondering if someone around him is cutting farts, etc.
now i know this has happened to the best of us at some point, for me personally it happened while i was shit faced, eating chili fries on the toilet at the johnny rockets in beverly hills. so i can sympathize with him. but, seeing how it is kendo stick thursday, ill let him figure it on his own.

Ultimate Xmas...

how did i become the guy who had to come into work on xmas eve? i could be working a crisp buzz right now but instead I'm finding creative ways to lace my shoes at work. so the following is what i expect my xmas day to look like:

- wake up around 11 am with ZERO hangover

- look down and realize my penis has grown 3 inches (i believe in xmas miracles)

- rip bong that is conveniently placed next to bed

- ride segway from bedroom to kitchen

- mother hands me comically oversized mug of irish coffee and and a plate of "reubens benedict" (this a new creation of mine, how do you make a reuben sandwich better? slather it in hollandaise and a poached egg. that's how)

- check text messages while consuming 3rd reuben benedict helping
TEXT FROM:
-george clooney: "drinks 2night?"
my reply: "maybe"

-george lucas: "can i brrow sum moneyz?"
my reply: "no :( "

-clint eastwood: "u r badazz"
my reply: "k"

-brianna banks: "can i S ur D?"
my reply: "word"

-ride segway to living room, open presents, gifts include :
- unrated dvd collectors edition of 'showgirls'
- bottle of highland park 18

-feeling overly satisfied with gifts, ride segway to bathroom, drop a 2 1/4 lb. deuce while freebasing a dish of smoked almonds

-rip bong

-listen to bing crosby's rendition of "christmas in kilarney", have mother pour me a pint glass of scotch and sing the chorus with me duet style

-collect call jon voight at home and inform him that he is a cock-gypsy

-have mother make me a prime rib sandwich

-check email
email #1: job offer from espn college gameday asking me to be the lead color analyst (need to think about it)

- rip bong (undecided on job offer)

email #2: every single one of my ex-girlfriends contact me to let me know that i was a sexual tyranosaur and no men can compare and that they all are considering becoming lesbians unless i contact them.
consider which ones i should call back.

-rip bong (forget what i was thinking about. something involving college football and lesbian dinosaurs. what do i know? I'm fucking baked! do i smell homemade enchiladas?!!??)

-ride segway to kitchen. i did smell enchiladas.

-eat entire casserole dish of enchiladas

-call up jo rowling to wish her a happy xmas:
me- happy xmas jo!
jo- happy xmas tex! you are my inspiration for everything, this months royalty check is in the mail.
me- word, hugs and kisses, gots to get drunk

-read on espn mobile that the Angels signed Tim Tebow to play third base

-take 1 hour nap next to fireplace with my dachsunds and a bottle of purple drank

-get awoken by burt reynolds and jd salinger dropping off their xmas gifts of pepperidge farm baskets (they both got me the deluxe summer sausage and mustard set ones, gotta love those guys)

-intravenously consume a bottle macallan cask strength scotch

-have an imaginary conversation with frank sinatra and compile a list a cock-gypsys that him and i intend to pistol whip

-dress up like santa and drunkenly ride around the neighborhood on my segway handing out limited edition wwf action figures in original packaging to all the small children.

-get home, watch die hard and have fourth helping of reubens benedict

-rip bong

have a merry xmas friends, i hope yours is as good as mine is going to be.

The only thing that happened all day...

and even then, the fact that this was my daily highlight is all the more reason that i need to do something this evening to redeem my lost 8 hours. so a male co-worker/total jackass walks up to me and asks if he can have a word. learning from past mistakes i politely nod and follow him to his desk where i find 4 other male co-workers.
jackass- "now, i just want to say that whoever used the bathroom last needs to admit to it. what took place in there was rude and unacceptable"
we all looked at each other blankly for a few moments, obviously we were all guilty of something that's taken place in the bathroom at one point or the other. i had a clear conscious, my phone was in my pocket so its not like someone found out i was gazing at porn in the stall. finally someone speaks up, "what are you talking about?". obviously he was guilty of something, probably not this crime however. knowing this clown-ass he probably left his rock tumbler plugged in overnight and was robbing precious electricity from work.jackass walks us towards the bathroom. at this point my mind was racing. what could it be? dirty joke written on the wall? i started sweating. cocaine trail left on the counter? my breathing grew rapid. dead hooker!? dead hooker!? please be a dead hooker! that would liven things up around here. jackass opens the door and one of the most evil smells hits us. the temperature raised a good ten degress due to this shitwave. it was bad, real bad. it reminds me of what i imagine satans college laundry hamper to smell like. we all scrambled away from the door and began to offer up our own descriptions of the smell. similar to that scene in 'anchorman' when paul rudd puts on the infamous "sex panther" cologne. only this wasn't sex panther. this would be known as "shit panther, with pieces of real colon in it". here were some rather distinct descriptions:-
-"it smells like when my dog had puppies"
-"its like he didn't flush, did anyone check to see if it was flushed?"
-"no way someone did that, the human body can't produce that much sulfur"
my personal addition to the odious comparisons was-
-"whoever it was, they were up late last night drinking a lot of gin and eating a lot of boiled cauliflower"
no one ever confessed to the crime obviously. but i want to know what jackass' intentions were. did he have a punishment lined up for the culprit? i guess we shall never know.