I hope the vulgarity of this next post doesn't offend anyone. And by vulgarity I mean I use the word shit a lot, because in all honesty, the word "poop". or "crap" doesn't even cover what took place the other night. Now don't let your mind juices flow too far. It wasn't all that crazy bad, but it was bad enough.
The other night, I spent all night slaving away in the kitchen with my best pal Victoria Shimkus. We made no less than one million bags of muddy buddies (Fine. We made 3 bags) But three gallon-sized bags! There was lots of them. I ended up eating my own weight in those treats that I now realize come from the depths of Hell. I never wanted to look at any type of food ever again, or look at myself in the mirror because who knows how much weight I've already gained on this Christmas break of mine.
But, I prevailed on. Seeing as I hadn't had dinner that night, I figured muddy buddies were as good as any filet mignon or salmon other families were having. That was until Vicki told me what her family had. Homemade burritos. Steak, cheese, peppers, foods sent from heaven, hand delivered by the angel Gabriel himself. Salivating. I was literally salivating at her words. Not only was this beautiful dish so beautiful, but it was also plentiful. They had leftovers.
I had to take Vicki home anyways, so I figured why not take a side trip and venture into the deep, dark depths of her abode and heat myself up a burrito that was probably created by Santa's elves. I'm just saying.
So I did just that. Everything was looking great. Not only was I eating substance things, but I was eating something other than muddy buddies, which was more that I had done in quite some time.
I followed Vicki down to her room and I just kind of meandered around for awhile, looking at pictures, stepping on clothing that litered the floor, breaking mirrors, crying a little. Okay not really any of those. However, at one point I did lock her dog out of the room, I chuckled evily a little, but then my chuckle turned into a full out, hard-core, evil-mastermind laugh. "Muhahahah. Muaha. haha. ha.haha.ahaha." *gets hit over head with lamp*.
But then Vick got mad at at made me and I had to let her back in. That's where everything went bad.
Vicki began to brush her teeth. The door of her room connects to a bathroom that her and her little sister Kristen share together. So while she was brushing her teeth, I sat down on the couch that was put in her room after she moved to college, because there was no space in the living room anymore, and watchingly ate my burrito.
As I sat there, minding my own business I looked to the ground, not knowing what I would find. Perhaps it would be a pot of gold, but perhaps not. Instead, what I found was something the same color as my steak was lying on the ground, just inches from where I was sitting.
Rationally, my train of thought was something like "oh! I seemed to have dropped some steak on the floor. My mistake, it happens, I'll just pick it up really fast"
So I took my forefinger and my thumb and reached for the piece of steak, like I was Frodo reaching for "The One Ring" for the first time. I was ready to pick up the food and place it directly into my mouth. That is until I actually picked up the thing. The thing that was the furthest from steak. It wasn't as far from food as one would think, but boy was it the farthest thing from what I wanted to place in my mouth and ruin my perfect palet.
Oh. Shit.
Turns out that the item I was so very willing to place in my mouth, simply minutes before, ended up being a small piece of shit. The dog, who I had locked out of the room might I add, just went around the room dropping pieces of shit all around like they were freaking bread crumbs. I guess she just wanted to find her way back, well congrats Roxy! Look what happened.
The realization happened milliseconds after I picked up the (as Vicki called it) "dingleberry" to put in my mouth. It went a little something like this:
"oh! I seemed to have dropped some steak on the floor. My mistake, it happens, I'll just pick it up really fast."
*bends over, picks up shit*
"That's squishy. That's not steak. Oh gosh!"
*splits piece of shit into two pieces of shit by accidentally almighty-pinching earlier said piece of shit out of panic, and then throws both pieces of shit across the room*
"That's shit!"
I was a little embarrassed at first and I didn't really want to tell Vicki, but the amount of laughter that was being expelled from my body was just too much for Vicki not to ask what was going on.
I explained to her the situation, often taking breaks to release more laughter into the world at what had just taken place. She didn't really get it at first.
"Vicki I..." *laughing in bewilderment* "you're dog...not steak...it was poop!" *laughing again, doubling over* "I almost ate! My hand...I need soap"
She only really understood what shenanigans had just gone down when I shared the story again to her younger sister Kristen, who was attempting to get some sleep in the next room before she had to take a final the next day. Apparently this happening was a loud enough happening to prevent her from sleeping at all. Only after I repeated the story for the youngest of the Shimkus sisters did Vicki, Kristen, and I join in a shared laughter that rang throughout the rooftops of Draper, Utah.
I was laughing so hard that breath wasn't even a real life concept anymore. The type of laughter where you can't hold in your pee. I write about it quite often. It's my number one favorite thing in this world. Honestly. That's literally what I base relationships off of. If I can't laugh with you, I can't be friends with you! (FINE. I can be friends with you, it's just hard okay?).
In fact, I did pee a little. On Kristen's bed. Just a little. She didn't know that before this, so if she's reading this then....sorry Kristen but I'm not really. Worth it. I think it was on a towel that was on her bed though, so, I mean, as long as she didn't dry herself off with it again, we're golden!
But wait! This post is dragging on and on. The funniest part of the story is that...this isn't even the end of it. There's more shit to come ladies and gentlemen! More shit indeed.
Tune in tomorrow for Oh. Shit. Part 2.
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