on saturday morning JJ was like "hey, my friends are coming over tonight."
and so they came. three of them. all in their manly smells and such. they came barreling into my tiny apartment with bags and beer. oy.
the men all left for buffalo wild wings and i just ate nachos and watched Fred Claus on TBS. then they got home and moved my couches all caddy wompus-like around the family room and nearly knocked over my glass candle holders. and then they played tiger woods on the xbox for like 4 straight hours while i locked myself in the bedroom and drank wine and talked to Moon on the phone. then they all left to eat sushi. and i stayed home and made some more nachos and threw in a clementine orange for good measure. then it started: the rumble in my tummy.
and here is the worst/best feature of our apartment: the bathroom is in our bedroom. so guests have to come into the bedroom to use the toilet. it's awesome when we don't have guests because if you have to pee at 3 a.m. you literally just roll out of bed and onto the toilet.
well i had the rumble in my tummy. when they got back from sushi i was already laying in bed watching santa claus is comin' to town (the claymation version obvs) and so i went to have the Big D in the bathroom. but i was not relaxed. at all. so i was plugged. i went to bed at like 8:30 because i had the worst tummy ache ever in life and i couldn't complain to JJ because his friends were there.
at 6 a.m. on sunday i woke up with an angry asshole.
and my bathroom smelled horrendous. but i made JJ say to his friends that it was he who took the shit.
i climbed back into bed and wanted to die of embarrassment.
then, one by one, each of his friends came into the bathroom. and each took a bigger and meaner shit. and my tiny apartment smelled like a not so tiny turd. it. was. disgusting. so we opened all the doors and windows even though it was raining. then i went into the bathroom with febreeze in hand and sprayed for like 45 seconds. when it was decent, i took a shower. and the bathroom smelled all nice and fresh because of all my girlie products. then i got out and got dressed and when i opened the bedroom door to the family room i was overcome by a wave of fart. i gagged my way out, shouted goodbye and found sanctuary in Target buried in the new line by William Rast.
when i got back home, the boys were gone but the fart smell stayed.
i. never. want. sons. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW