Oh. Shit. The continuation.

This is a part twoer people! So if you have yet to read the Part One segment, then I suggest you backtrack only a little bit and read Oh. Shit. Part One. Simply titled..."Oh. Shit". Do you want to be as confused as a T-Rex in a Vegan world, then please, read on. But if you would like to understand my story as well as the Mayans understood when the world was going to end, then go back! (huh....that analogy doesn't really work does it..?)

Recap: I almost ate shit. Instead, I peed my pants on Kristen's bed, as laughter was heard throughout a city, or something. I enjoyed my steak burrito, but after almost eating shit I had to throw it away because looking at the steak just reminded me of the fact that I almost ate shit.

Okay you should be up to speed!

By the end of the laughter, I was fed up with the night. It was 11:30 p.m. and all I wanted to do was go home, put sweat pants on, brush my teeth, eat some muddy buddies, realize that I had already brushed my teeth once, brush my teeth again, lay in my bed, and stay up till 2:30 watching Netflix. Ya know. A standard week slash weekend night.

Only the world had a different plan for me.

I said my goodbyes. Well more like I shouted, "I'm leaving this Hell hole!". And I moonwalked outta there! Really though. I was wearing these great socks that were like a nest of gratitude and unicorn hair surrounding my feet. A Christmas present from my great buddy Jamie.

Right, so I moonwalked outta there! Saying sayonara to my past, ready, with open arms, to embrace the future that lie ahead of me. Great things were on my horizon, I could tell. I started walking up the stairs in the Shimkus home envisioning all the different scenarios that could take place in my life, now that I've experienced this type of close encounter.

Maybe I could be the captain of a pirate ship! Searching for gold and doubloons in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Or maybe I was bound to be President of America! Wait wait...no. THE WORLD.

Maybe I'd write a movie that would sell for millions. Maybe I'd steal the Declaration of Independence. Maybe I'd open up a shrimp business.  Maybe I'd marry a spy, while being a spy myself, and then be told I have to kill the spy I'm married to. Maybe I'd...*SQUISH. WETNESS. WHAT'S THAT SMELL*

I popped out of my mental world and back into reality. I was walking from the top of the stairs into the kitchen to get my coat and keys when I felt this wetness on the bottom of my left foot. I didn't know what it was, seeing as the entire house was pitch black. I came to the conclusion that I had stepped in some sort of bodily extraction Roxy had left around for me, but I'd figured it was only urination.

I did the idiotic thing of placing my right hand on the bottom of my left foot and then brought the hand to my nose. I then inhaled a smell that was not pee. It was something much worse.

Oh. Shit. THE CONTINUATION. 

(also let me just comment on this fact: why in the world would I ever do this?! I mean, I already thought it was pee, so how does that make it okay in my mind to feel the bottom of my sock and smell it? I don't understand my thought process sometimes)

I struggled to find the light switch on the wall right next to me. I reached and reached, and I swear to you the wall was literally moving out of my reach. On purpose! I didn't even know it was possible. But it is. I swear to you.

I finally found the switch, flicked it upwards with all my might, and looked behind me. Sure enough, there were three things of Roxy's wet shits lining the walkway between the stairs and the kitchen. There was a small one, a medium one, and then a big one. Guess which one I stepped in...

I called Vicki up. "Come look at what your damn dog has done."
And I found the soap, for the second time, for reasons I never thought I would have needed soap for.

We inspected the pieces of poop left behind. My sock texture was indented into the biggest thing of poop. Indented! Like. You could see what the the texture of my sock was just by looking at some shit. It was horrifying. I took off my socks (my beautifully, handcrafted socks, that were probably spun by spider hands), walked out to my car barefoot, and drove home, never looking back.

I got home and instead of doing everything I had planned to do, I did a load of laundry. Then I spent the next couple minutes relaying the events of my night to my mother.

"Why mom? Why do these things keep happening to me? I honestly don't understand!"
"Well Jeannie. I think tonight was the ultimate metaphor for your life. You simply just keep stepping in the biggest pile of shit."

Right.


p.s. I told this to my friend Jenn, then she told me about the time her family got into a shit fight. Then I slowly backed up from her and ran away. I guess I'm not the strangest person out there. It's comforting really.