A few years ago some genius, and I do mean genius, created a site called “Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop.com. The site is no longer active, but from my extensive research- (one quick google search) it seems that the whole site was simply dedicated to this picture.

I think there was even a movement to try to get people to print out the picture and post it in bathroom stalls around the world. I know the site is no longer active, but I think I’m going to do it anyway. Maybe I can restart the movement… because goshdarnit, I would die of laughter if I went into a bathroom and Jeff Goldblum was watching me poop.

Or maybe I should switch it up a bit.

This might sound strange, but I’ve always thought that Jeff Goldblum looks nearly identical to Orlando Jones, yaknow- except for that whole skin color thing. So I’m thinking we intensify the whole movement and replace Mr. Goldblum with his identical non-twin…

But then again, my mom (always one to tell it like it is) once told my friend Moops that he looks exactly like Jeff Goldblum… So maybe I should go the obscure route and use his pic instead…

(Isn’t it incredibly absurd that 3 people can look so much alike-ish?!?)

So I think you should all print out that last pic and hang it up in restrooms worldwide. I’m thinking this could really catch on. Or not…

And just so you know…

Make sure you check back to Lilu’s Archives… they are the best things you’ll read all week!

I’m not usually the type of girl who likes to kiss and tell. O.K., that’s a lie. But I’m not the type of girl who likes to talk about sexual experiences all over internets, especially on a site that my parents frequent. So today I’m going to tell you a story that happened to a, ahem, friend of mine.

Once upon a time there was a girl named… lets call her “Cari.”

She was young and naive and only a Sophomore in college.  Although she was not quite twenty-one, Cari had just began to get the full extent of how crazy night life in college could really be.

One night, Cari went to a bar with some friends. She had been kind of talking to a guy (lets call him Dave) who worked at a local bar, which was kind of awesome because he could sneak her drinks. By kind of talking, I mean that they had made out once or twice, but had yet to take it beyond first base.

At the time, Cari was still pretty naive when it came to sexual experiences. She had kissed her share of boys, but was not the kind of girl to go home with almost strangers.

This night, because of the ridiculous amount of drinks that she sneakily inhaled, she decided to make an exception.

Dave was quite a bit older and willing to take the drunken Cari back to his house to take care of her. He was quite the gentleman and even stopped to get Cari lemon lime Gatorade on the way to his house.

Once they got there, things got a little hot and heavy. Not to the point of actual intercourse, but to the point where clothes were taken off.

It was around this point that Cari passed out into a dark and dreamless sleep.

She woke up very early in the morning with a horrible cramp in her stomach. It was not the type of cramp that could be mistaken. She really had to take a shit.

At this point, Cari was still laying on her side under the covers. She wanted to try to sneak out of bed and into the bathroom so that Dave wouldn’t wake up to the sound of her using the restroom. She could feel his presence right behind her, and hear the sounds of his heavy snoring behind her head. She shifted to try to move without disturbing the hairy man next to her.

As she did, she noticed something very strange.

“What in the hell is that!?” she thought as she started to panic. It seemed to Cari, that there was something lightly resting upon her butt cheek.

“Nononononononono! This cannot be happening!” Cari thought as she tried to figure out a game plan.

You see, the pain in Cari’s stomach was so intense, that she had come to the conclusion that she must have laid a turd in this strange harry man’s bed. What else would be resting gently against her butt cheek?

She thought maybe she should just run out of the door, hitchhike back to her apartment, then convince her parents to let her transfer schools.

Tears came to poor Cari’s eyes as she realized that she had really done it. Her life was over. She was about to leave all of her new friends, and all because she decided to get drunk and poop in a well known bartender’s bed.

“There has to be another way,” Cari thought…. “AHA! Maybe I can just scoop it up and throw it in the trash without him noticing!”

Cari knew that this would be very difficult. From what she could tell, it was still in it’s solid form. She had been very careful not to lean back and damage it in anyway.

She finally gathered up the courage to very carefully reach behind her back and scoop it up.

Very slowly and carefully, Cari scooted her hand underneath the poop, hoping with all of her heart that she would not leave any remains  behind.

It was in that moment that Cari made the best discovery of her life.

What she held in her hand was not in fact a turd… it was in fact, just Dave’s penis.

Cari quickly woke Dave up and made him drive her home, where she was able to use the restroom in the privacy of her own bathroom.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

Not only is it Friday, but I get to leave work at noon today to head to Austin. The only thing that could make this better would be if it were  a payday Friday, and if I didn’t have to drive 4 and a half hours just  to get to Austin.

There is one other thing that’s kind of been bothering me today.

(I almost told this as this week’s TMI story, but realized it was more of a FML tale. So, at least for today- consider it FML Friday.)

I was in the restroom at my house last night, doing my business, when I noticed that my feet were wet. Wet feet in the bathroom are never OK, unless someone has recently exited the shower. (We all know that guy who doesn’t pay attention care where his pee might fall.)

After I had successfully finished my business, I dried off my feet, and bent down to get a closer look at the floor.

Oh. No. The water was coming out from the bottom of the toilet.

I have seen this before, and the outcome is never good. And believe me, I know. I’m the queen of toilet incidents.

The first time I saw water leaking from my toilet, I was a junior in college. I shared an apartment with two other girls, and we were all at the peak of being college alcoholics. I had noticed for a while that our toilet had a little wiggle to it. Every time you sat down you could feel the base rocking, just a little bit. Just like in my current bathroom, a little bit of water would escape from the bottom whenever we flushed. I can only assume that it was damaged by a combination of our drunkeness, and our asses.  Because when you’re a drunk- you have a tendency of just “plopping” down on the toilet with no abandon.

We have to remember that toilets are practically just made out of thick  glass. You have take care of them. You can’t just put anything down them. And you definitely can’t throw all  100 -and- something lbs of yourself down backwards onto the seat of the toilet in a drunken stupor.

Which is exactly what I did.

We had at least ten people over at the time, (because you never do stupid drunk things when you get dropped off at home by yourself) and to be honest, I was really way too gone to remember all the horrible details. All I know is that at some point during the night, I stumbled into the bathroom. I’m not sure if I was actually trying to sit down, or if I slipped on the bath rug and fell into the toilet- but either way it happened.

My fat ass broke the toilet at the base.

Like I said, I don’t remember details- but the way I’ve heard it, (and believe me- I’ve heard all sorts of versions of this story) I ran through a living room full of people  with my pants down around my ankles, ran into my room, dove head first onto my bed, missed, and landed on the floor with my bare ass facing a room full of very confused people.

Next thing they knew, water was gushing into the living room. I don’t know what happened next, but from what I hear- I cried in my bedroom while all of my wonderful friends cleaned the mess. I do know that the carpet had to be replaced and there were giant fans airing the place out for about a week.

That could be a funny story to look back on and laugh about later.

Except…

A couple years later I moved to a new city for work and I was living alone.  I didn’t have many friends  yet, except for a group of very fun, very loud gay boys (who I love to pieces.) One night, after about 6 Mi Cocina Mambo Taxis- we went back to my one room loft apartment, mostly because I didn’t care if people smoked inside.  I guess I should mention that my toilet at this apartment also had a shaky base.***

We were all extremely toasted and playing game of Cranium. I had to pee very badly, but wanted to hurry so I didn’t miss anything. I ran to the bathroom, and attempted to pull down my pants on the way there to save time. As I approached the toilet, I slipped backwards.

And Yes.

I fucking broke the second toilet of my life.

This time I cried in the closet while the gays, very thoroughly, cleaned up the flooding bathroom.

So now you know why a little leak at the bottom of the toilet can really freak a girl out.

We all know bad things happen in threes.

***ok, i admit it. the second incident didn’t involve a shaky base. it was a brand new toilet, in a brand new apartment. my fatass simply broke it. i have no excuse.

F.M.L.

I’ll  leave you with a little more FML this lovely Friday, because you know how I can completely understand body hair issues…And also GloZell is hilarious!

Happy Friday yall!

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(Make sure you check out Lilu’s  TMI Thursday archives, I spent my morning there and had to join in)

Oh I am so going to regret publishing this one.

Men/Boys/Anyone who knows me in real life, you may want to cease reading this right about now…

Three weeks ago today was the last day of my “woman” cycle. (Frick, it’s already been 3 weeks?) You know how that last day goes. A tampon is more of a precaution than a necessity. So that Thursday night before I went to sleep, I went ahead and took that precaution.

The following evening I decided to make the 5 hour drive to visit some friends in Houston. Before I left, I ran through my mental checklist, making sure I wouldn’t get half-way there and realize I had done something traumatic, like forget my hair straightener.  About 30 minutes into the drive, I came to a dreadful realization. I couldn’t remember taking it out from the night before.

Since I had gone to work a little hungover and dehydrated that day (as I do most Fridays,) I knew I had only used the restroom a couple of  times in the last 24 hours- and neither of those times included tampon removal.

My first thought was “Oh my God, I have toxic shock.” I then briefly imagined myself into a headache and a bad case of the chills.

My second thought should have been “I need to find a gas station where I can pull over and take this out, pronto.”

Note: I have this thing when I’m on road trips where I absolutely will not pull over unless I’m 20 seconds away from pissing myself, or I see a sign that says “worlds best beef jerky”

And since there was no such sign in sight, my actual second thought was “I bet I can take this out while driving!”

Turns out it wasn’t so difficult, even when going 80 mph on the highway.  Luckily, I was wearing a skirt, and by keeping one foot on the gas- I was able to half way stand up and… well all you need to know is that it is possible.

It wasn’t until it was removed that I realized I hadn’t thought about disposal. I panicked for a moment that I would have to break my “no littering of tampons” clause and was just about to throw it out the window, when I spotted a paper bag buried under the junk pile on the floor board of my car.

I put it in the bag, threw the bag back onto the floorboard of my car, and within in a few minutes I was so caught up in listening to an episode of “This American Life,” that I completely forgot about my predicament.

Until this Monday, when I was rummaging through my car trying to find my glasses. I spotted that brown paper bag and it all came flooding back to me.

I am a disgusting, despicable person. And this is just one more reason why you should never ride in my car.

I don’t know whether it’s driven by insecurities, the need to fit in, or just habit- but I have realized that I apologize for everything, even when there is absolutely no reason to apologize.

Scenario 1: Yesterday I’m at the grocery store. An obnoxious lady with big blue hair and 2 loud little boys comes up behind me in the freezer section. I’m making a grab for a ham and cheese lean pocket when she reaches around me to grab a handful of frozen quiches. I withdrew my arm, backed out of her way, said “oh, I’m sorry,” and patiently waited until she was finished.

What I should have said: Excuse me bitch. But my arm was in this freezer before your turkey goblin arm reached around me. You can wait. And shut your kids up.  And do something about that mustache.

Scenario 2: Also at the grocery store a while back. I’m waiting for the guy at the deli counter to finish up with his current customer so I can order some roast beef. I notice another girl standing about the same distance back from the counter as I am. She is on her phone very engaged in her conversation and doesn’t particularly look like she is waiting. When the deli guy is finished we make eye contact and I approach the counter. Just as I’m apologizing for not immediately knowing which variety of Roast beef I will be having, I hear “excuuusee me miss, but I was waiting here first,” from the loud phone gabber, who incidentally is still on the phone. She rolled her eyes at me as she took my place at the counter.

I nervously reply, “Oh I’m sorry… I didn’t realize… Here go ahead. I’m sorry”

What I should have said: Uh Uh bitch. You take your need- to- be- washed and completely out- of- date cut off shorts to the restroom, which is the only place you should be having such a dirty conversation.  And maybe you should go to the fish section and buy some crabs so you can eat what you have.

Scenario 3: In the restroom just a few minutes ago.  I’m doing my thing. Number one mind you. Either way I’m taking just a moment to enjoy a few minutes away from the office. I thought that I had locked the door… well, because why wouldn’t I? Lo and behold, what happened next was the moment every public restroom go-er most fears- the walk in. The stall door opens and hits me in the knees. I look up and grab for toilet paper to cover myself and I say, “Oh my gosh I’m sorry!!”  I said it! All I hear from the outside of the already shut again stall, is “Oops my bad.”

What in the hell? I said sorry to the impossibly rude woman who barged in on me taking a leak!

What I should have said: Nothing. She should have said “Oh I’m so sorry..” Then maybe I could have responded with a  blushing “ohh it’s ok, im just peeing…” Or even if she hadn’t apologized I should have said nothing, wiped, waited until she started peeing, and bust open her stall.

I can’t be the only one with this problem, but even if I am- I’m putting an end to it, today. Never again will I move out of the way for person walking towards me while typing on their blackberry, and apologize when their shoulder hits mine. No longer will I step into a crowded elevator and apologize for making the area just a little more crowded. Never again will I apologize for bursting into song while running on the treadmill. ( Ok maybe that one deserves an apology…)

I’m gonna work on this and see how it goes. I’ll let you know.

Sorry for the rant.

6:40 am: alarm goes off. I hit snooze.

6:45am: repeat

6:50am: repeat

6:55am: repeat

7:00am: repeat

7:05am, 7:10am, 7:15am: repeat, repeat, repeat

7:16am: a private moment in the restroom… and brush my teeth at the same time. Then hop back into bed.

7:20am-ish: Flip onThe Today Show…Grab the clothes i left in a pile next to my bed. Get dressed while trying to stay under the blankets. Throw hair in a ponytail. Using spit and the inside of my shirt, I wipe the black from under my eyes. Take the make up bag and mirror left strategically next to my bed, and smear on some eyeliner. Notice I just got completely ready- in bed.

7:27am: Let out a loud, annoyed sigh and get out of bed. I walk/run into the kitchen and grab a lean cuisine, a protein bar, and a cup of joe.

7:35am: Jump in the car and take off.

7:38am: Reverse, run back into the house and grab whatever I happened to forget. eg. Phone, ipod, book, gymclothes.

8:10am: Arrive at work, late.

8:15am-10:20am.: Check facebook approx. 9 times. IMDB whatever movie I watched the night before, Gchat and email with the girlfriends to discuss our boredom. All with my firefox screen shrunk down to the size of a post it.

10:20am-11:30am: Open and close files. Stare at computer screen.

11:30am-12:30pm: Lunch time! I can finally surf the net in the open. Eat a lean cuisine. As. slow. as. possible.

12:30pm-5:00pm: see the 10:20-11:30 time slot above.

5:00pm: I smile, and leave.

5:30pm: Gym. (usually) Listen to podcast whilst working out.

7:00pm: Spend about 1 hour walking aimlessly around grocery store. If I go into Central market go ahead and tack on another hour and a half.

8:00pm: Eat something.

8:20pm: Feel guilty about ruining my workout with whatever I ate. Open a bottle of wine to cease my guilt.

9:00pm: Shower. (usually)

9:05pm-10:45pm: Sit in front of computer while listening to whatever my roommates are watching. Sometimes I get to watch what I want to watch…

10:45pm: pop a unisom.

Sometime before 1:00am: sleep, if I’m lucky.

I hope you enjoyed my really fucking exciting life. Can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.