Roll Up my Sleeves

1506/2009

Because I am a humongous tool I decided to buy hip/trendy jeans with holes in them. One hole is conveniently located on the back right pocket; the same pocket where I keep my keys.

So I’m at work, in the bathroom, takin’ care of business. Bombs away. I let fly like Mussolini from a balcony. It was gross. It smelled like an open milk carton that was left outside during 95 degree weather.

Anyway, I stand up after I’m done and my f’ing keys fly out of the hole in my jean pocket right into the bowl. Hole in one style.

So now I’ve got a situation. Mixed in with my toxic butt waste are the keys to my car, house, life, etc. I want to chalk it up as a loss, flush, and walk away. I can’t; I need to go home at some point today and I’m gonna need those keys.

I take a deep breath, roll up my sleeves, man up, and dig in. It was horrible. I wanted to vomit everywhere. I finally got my keys. I opened the stall ran to the sink and washed my hands for about 10 minutes. The water was scalding and burning my skin, but I didn’t care.

Even though I washed up, I still feel like my hand is gross. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t want to touch anything. I’m suppose to go to a finger food party tonight with my girlfriend, but I can’t stand the though of putting my gross hands in my mouth.

posted under Bathroom Humor
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