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If you want to know how it all began, click HERE for the FIRST entry. At the top of each post you can click "NEXT ENTRY" and so on. It might make a bit more sense that way, and you might stumble upon one of my better postings in case this one sorta just sucks! CLICK HERE for a RANDOM ENTRY. Wednesday, Nov. 21, 2001 - 4:10 P.M. Blown Out O-Ring Anyway, when she hired me, she didn't tell me squat about the job. I mean, she really just said that she knew she could hire me and not look back because she knew I would do the job, and do it better than anyone had in the past. Allright, that's good, but she left out details. Important ones. Things like: No one is supposed to park in the first 6 parking spaces in the parking lot (it belongs to another company and that is the agreement). I felt like an ass when I found that for the first month I had been parking in the wrong spots. She shrugged it off as no big deal. If anyone had hassled me about it, she wouldn't have bitten their arm off. Other little things I've had to find out by careful observation. And then there are a few things that I had to ask outright. "Hey, like, is there any one specific bathroom that the staff are supposed to use?" She sneered her very famous sneer. "You can go in this one here," she snapped, "unless you're going to take a major crap!" I have detailed before my quirks with public washrooms. This bathroom was a private/public one, I mean it was built for one person at a time. And it was in the front reception area. I figured that I'd just have to practice major self control and wait to unload at home if the urge hit. Then we ordered out for lunch, and I got the onion rings. Ok, let me just ask anyone who I happen to work with who is reading this, that the next time we order out from Culver's, 86 THE RINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Too late, the damage done, I managed to hold off the painful growling and cramping until the students left the building, but I knew there was no way I was going to make it home without exploding. It got so bad that for about 10 minutes I sat at my desk, afraid that if I stood, I would lose it. And then I'd have to quit, because I mean...OH MY GOD! I can't even think about the consequences if I had crapped all over myself, I mean how would I ever be able to look at anyone again?!?! I managed to clamp my sphincter tightly and walk almost unaffectedly down to the back washroom, the one that's usually a mess from the kids. SUNUVABITCH there was a staff member in there washing out a few dishes. I thought I could cover by going into a stall and pretending to do a silent piss, and then I'd leave and come back. But when I saw the stool, my intestinal track began to release by some primitive instinct. I quickly sat down. I don't know what the hell has happened to all of the toilet seats in that school, but they are all loose, and I feel like I'm in the god damned Cirque Du Soleil when I sit down! It's bad enough when I actually sit to do my business, but when I had to sit and hold, the balancing act made it a near fatal incident. I squeezed and breathed hard, squeezing, breathing, sweating, squeezing...squeezing....and then finally getting myself under temporary control, I flushed as though I was finished. It seemed to me that she should have been able to wash that fucking water pitcher faster than that, but hell no! So I washed my hands and tried to walk back to my office without looking like a freak. I managed my way back to my desk and sat again, beads of sweat rolling down my face. Have you ever felt like your ass was just going to blow right the hell off of your body? I mean just freaking explode?!?! Well, it was as close as it could have been! I tried again. This time, I took a decoy, I took my coffee cup so that if anyone was in there, I could pretend that I had to wash my cup so that I wouldn't have to face the Cirque Du Loo escapade. Oh give thanks to the great Father above, it was empty. My body shook as I ripped at my clothing. I wish the digital bastard had been there, I must have unloaded 10 pounds in 3 seconds (accompanied by 3 complimentary flushes). It was about the time I thought I was crapping out my gall bladder that I promised that I would never order onion rings again. So Pit Bull, if you are reading this, promise me that you will protect me from myself from now on when we order. Ok? I love ya man! Won't you PLEASE leave your feedback here? 0 readers left their mark on this one!
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