You are not logged in.
None
Other articles in Humor > Funny Stories
City Mouse 29 March 2009
A Man Who Can't Sing 29 March 2009
Avoidance 29 March 2009
| Jweekley and the horrible, terrible, no good, crappy day |
 |
 |
 |
| Humor > Funny Stories |
| Written by Jessica Helen Weekley |
| Thursday, 29 January 2009 19:08 |
|
This actually happened to me yesterday. Please excuse me if I have to exit to vomit. Also, please excuse me if I’m unable to exit prior to vomiting and I blow cottage cheese chunks all over this post.
Truly, I am having a lot of trouble pounding this one out because...well...it’s very unladylike to talk about.
Give it a minute, you’ll totally understand
Other than to say, “Oh my god, I just peed myself” I rarely talk about bodily functions. It grosses me out (as it should).
Note: I do not consider puking one of the main bodily functions because it is infrequent and generally unexpected. You know, kind of like a shooting star rocketing through a night’s sky or seeing the tail end of a comet.
My significant other has a friend who only talks about bodily functions. Especially during dinner.
I generally decline dining with her because...well...there are some topics that make alfredo sauce hard to swallow.
Actually, her friend would make an excellent addition to my diet plan. If she followed me around and made me sick everytime I went to put something in my mouth, I’d be cracked-out skinny in no time (and we all know that that is my ultimate goal).
Back to my story...
I went to Wal-Mart yesterday to grab a banana. One of my friends once told me that it is uncooth to grab just one banana. I, of course, told her to go bang herself. If I want one banana that is all I’m going to buy.
I grabbed my banana (hmm...a potential segue to a porno that I’m thinking of producing if Lonnie Anderson will ever call me back) and a bottle of water and jumped in the Self check-out line between two seemingly normal 20-something guys.
Standing there, anticipating my banana eating fiesta that would begin as soon as I made it to the parking lot, I tried to act nonchalant.
The guys were looking back at me but I was doing my best to pretend that they didn’t really exist (difficult considering that one of them was wearing yellow tennis shoes and the other weighed a metric ton).
They were nearly done with their transaction (buying Doritos, a frozen pizza and some brownies...been there my little rasta boys...I’ve certainly been there) when the one right in front of me leaned slightly forward.
That’s when it happend. He let out the biggest, loudest, raunchiest, disgusting (ohgodican’tevensaytheword) FART that I had ever heard.
Because I was in such close proximity, the gas from his rear end bounced off of my pelvis, drove me back into a rack of AAA batteries and wrapped itself around my head. My eyes began to water and tortured screams began shredding out of my burned throat.
What is wrong with people? Who does that? I mean, aside from my brother, who does that? Are you kidding me?
He tossed a semi-apologetic glance over his shoulder, shuffled in his hideously atrocious shoes and followed his friend out of the front entrance.
Before he was out of reach of my voice, I informed (in between dry heaving gags) of how disasterously disgusting he was.
Slack-jawed, he held up his beefy fist for a knuckle knock, was denied by my right hand, and continued on.
Stunned, I looked down at my banana that had withered into a brown pulp no bigger than a raisin and began crying. I had little doubt that my eyebrows and lashes had been casualties in the ass attack.
I will never be the same. My hair will never smell like sweet Clairol again. Instead, I will forever carry around the lingering odor of that guys' butt. |
|
|