I was very pleased by how nicely my mysterious digestive ailment behaved while I was in Republica Dominicana without consistent access to toilets that flush. I cannot fully convey how nasty it would have been if I had to leave one of my “chocolate mousse” (where the bowl is filled with a brown frothy substance that vaguely resembles the delicious dessert known as chocolate mouse but fortunately smells nothing like it so that there is absolutely no temptation to eat it) dumps or “shit log the size of my arm” (I actually broke a toilet in a nice London hotel with this type of crap in 2001) bowel movements in a toilet for several hours until the water came on and I could flush it. I am truly grateful for that, as I am sure that my husband and anyone else I stayed with is as well.
However, it seems that my gut had been saving up to give me a new year’s gift of shit. I think I just crapped out everything that I have eaten in the last week. Plus, earlier tonight I tormented two of my friends who initially sat behind me at the burlesque show with wretched gas. Some annoying other people tried to squeeze next to me on the floor and I hoped that my gas that smelled like a small animal had crawled up my ass, died, and was rotting would drive them away. (It didn’t – they moved because Scottie the Blue Bunny forced them to. He also rearranged the seating, which wound up being great since I no longer gassed directly on my friends’ feet.)
I’m fucking tired and want to go to sleep. But the shit keeps coming. If it keeps up this way, it’s going to be an exceptionally smelly year and I’ll need a lot of toilet paper.
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