Just when you thought I couldn't be more crude, I surprise the *crap* out of you!

I realize I have dropped the ball...again.

I don't even know if I can remember what's been going on. Here's a start:

My classes are crazy! We're wrapping things up in our current classes, and I have taken on the additional responsibility of helping a friend of mine get through Statistics class. I got through it last semester with an A, so he has recruited me for help after he dropped down to a D-. After two weeks, he almost has a B, so that's good news.

Work is busy! I had one student return from the Middle East this week on the USS Eisenhower, and one Navy Seal, a soldier and two sailors leaving next week. It's really sad to see them go, but they say it's their job and that's what they do. It's very touching how they accept the responsibility.

We missed Weight Watchers tonight (the first week I've missed) because I had to work late. I might go by there tomorrow just to weigh in.

I have a cold or sinus infection or something like that right now. It just snuck up on me and I look and feel pretty crappy. It's much better than my issues over the weekend! Those with weak stomachs or those who appreciate funny but gross stories, but are not in a setting that allows you to laugh out loud, please do not read the next paragraph!

So, the husband and I decided to go out on a date last Saturday night. I wore a sun dress and sandals and felt pretty darn cute. We went to a restaurant on the bay, and sat on the dock and had fresh fish and it was awesome. I felt just fine this whole time. We finish there and head to DQ on the oceanfront. We got some ice cream (using our 35 bonus points) while we sat at a picnic table. The husband had to use the restroom before we moved on to the next stop on our date - the grocery store. Well, I had let a little toot while he was in the restroom. Then, when he returned, I let one more little one. It just didn't feel right. So, I told him that I would be right back. I had to stop by the restroom before we left, just to make sure I still had clean panties. Well, I didn't. I totally sharted***. Not just once, but obviously twice. It wasn't as bad as it sounds, but it's still a shart. Because it wasn't that bad, I agreed to go on to the grocery store. When we got home, I was just fine. It was just a freak shart virus or something. Thank goodness I wasn't wearing my personalized panties! The morals of the story are:
1) Dresses are bad. Don't wear one if you don't have to. 2) Wear underwear! Think about what a nasty story I would have had if I didn't wear underwear that night. Eeewwww!

***A combination $hit/fart. It starts out as a fart, but it quickly turns into a solid/liquid before you can say "Oops! I crapped my pants!"

Yep - I think that I have crossed some sort of line with this post, but it's really too funny not to share! What's funny about sharting if everyone can't enjoy it with you?

My monthly recap

I guess we'll start with today. I'm battling a case of explosive runs, and the runs are definitely winning. I can't complain too much, since this Thursday will be Week 1 Weigh-in at Weight Watchers attempt #2. Steve (the husband) is doing it with me this time, so there's no logical reason to quit this time. He gets a lot of points because he's a man and because he has an active job. The new way to calculate points is a little different than the old way. I can already tell I've lost weight, so that's good. I don't even think it's the ragin' rhea, either. We are spending our bonus points tomorrow night when we have an American Idol party with some friends and neighbors. I'm looking forward to country music night on Idol more than the 35 freebie points. If tomorrow night is anything like tonight, I'll just shit out those bonus points, so maybe I'll just spend all 35 points on cheese.

On a lighter note, I had to take little Jackson to the vet for the first time since moving to the beach. He was due for his yearly check-up, and Steve was working, so I had to take him by myself. Last year, his carrier was way too small for him, so we opted for the collar/leash restraint system. It worked okay because we were both there to keep an eye on him. I had to go to PetSmart to get him a new crate, because I wasn't going to brave the cat on a leash alone. I got the soft-sided type by Blitz (Holla - made in Miami, Oklahoma!) Convincing him to get in the carrier wasn't so bad. He was really good about it. He's a really easy-going guy!
So, I get him in the vet's office. I had faxed over his medical records and his new patient form earlier, so we got to go right into the exam room. Sweet! Sometimes, it really pays off to be organized! It's not an extra mile I'd go for my own healthcare, but I'd volunteer my organs for that darn cat. He doesn't like to be away from home, but I open his crate and he starts walking around. He found a little space under the sink to hide out. The nurse comes in and Jackson jumps out to greet her. Her first comment was, "You're bigger than my dog!" She picks him up and loves on him. Then, she said that she would be right back with him. I had tears well up in my eyes, because I thought he would be scared. I wasn't quite sure where she was taking him. Our old vet would do everything right there in front of us, so I didn't know what to expect. Apparently, it was just a trip to the scale and to get a fecal sample and to take his temperature. I'm sure his temperature was taken in a manner that violated him, but I didn't ask. Steve said that they probably squeezed him really hard to get the poo sample. Then, Dr. McCutie came in. He picked Jackson up and said he loved big cats. I should have asked him if he liked his women like his cats (big), but I just couldn't. Maybe next year. Or the next. HEE HEE! The doctor did tell me his weight, though. 21 lbs! He's always been a big cat. He was 19 lbs. a year ago. We did live in a house with a big back yard where he could roam, so he got a lot of exercise back then. In one year, he's gained 2 pounds, which I don't think is a big deal. Dr. McCutie said that Jackson had the bone structure of a really big cat, but he'd like him to be closer to 19 lbs again. He said he wasn't concerned, but maybe we could cut back on his food by 1/4 cup each day, and maybe he would drop those 2 lbs. So, the whole dang household is dieting now. He was such a good little trooper and I've just written a really long post about my cat, which makes me a little like a creepy cat lady, but I'm not. I'm just a proud parent right now. He's such a good little guy, and so low maintenance!

Now I'm tired and I can't type anymore. I will post more soon.

Can you relate?

I work with this girl that I will call Metoo. If someone has a headache, her response is "me too." If I say that my arm itches, hers does too. If someone has diarrhea, I'll be damned if she doesn't have diarrhea, too!
My bestest friend, Jenn, suggested that I mention my hoo-ha itching, just to see how far Metoo would go. Before her suggestion, I mentioned that I might say that I had herpes, but I like Jenn's suggestion much better!

Free cabbage and beer? How do I RSVP?

The 2nd floor of our building has a realty company that likes to spend their money on food. They have had a few parties and invited us to all of them. They had an Open House in their office today to celebrate St. Patrick's Day and invited the staff and faculty of the university I work for. The invitation said cabbage and beer tasting. I think that was their version of crowd control, and I didn't fall for it. I can handle cabbage, but not on a work day. I'll pass on the beer, too. When we arrived, there were garlic fries (a fave of mine),pita bread and hummus, egg rolls, sandwiches, cheese and crackers, etc. I had pita bread and a cookie. I threw in a string cheese that was about to expire, too (this was my personal contribution to lunch - they didn't have these at their party). So, a couple of hours later, I had gas as if I had consumed a bowl of cabbage the size of an adult Leprechaun.*** I was in the *presence* of cabbage and got cabbage farts? What?

***Disclaimer - I don't know the size difference between an adolescent and adult Leprechaun. I just thought I'd say an adult Leprechaun, just in case.

No way!

I recently added "Stat Counter" to my blog. I never really knew about this tool, but it's just amazing! I can see where the people that view my site are from and how they find my blog. Someone stumbled across me by searching "Gotta go potty bathroom" on Google.
Well, whoever you are, I hope you found what you needed. If you need assistance using the restroom, you're worse off than me! If you crapped your pants because you didn't find the help you needed in time, tell me about it and I'll share it with everyone. That's what I'm all about! I just share stories (usually my own) about using the restroom or other acts of nastiness. I apologize for not being more helpful.

The good news is that I can see how many people stop by each day, and I know that most people do not leave comments. That's okay. I know who you are. :)

Two days in a row!!! (and, I'm not going to talk about poop today)

No, your eyes aren't lying (Hips don't lie either, huh BFF Shakira?)

I'm really on a roll, now! I function best in high-stress mode, and that time is now! Midterms are next week, I finally got my thank you cards out from Christmas, Mt. Dirty Clothes is slowly turning into Mt. Clean Clothes, work is chaos, yet I still have time to blog. I think it's just the amount of material I accumulate during times like this!

Here's my day:
(husband sleeps in, because he's off on Mondays and Tuesdays) I start my day jealous of him all warm and sleeping in, even though Saturday and Sunday it was the other way around.
So, this girl I work with constantly talks about food. Food she likes. Food she cooks. Food she eats. Food she thinks about. UGH! I do not have time to listen to someone talk about food all the time! The routine goes like so:
When we see each other in the morning, she normally recaps what she had for dinner the previous night (Some days it's takeout, some days it's home cooked. If it's takeout, I will hear the location of the restaurant and any specialties they had/may have. If it's home cooked, I will hear about the ingredients and cooking method. "Chef" is very thorough!)
Next, she will tell me what she brought for lunch, or what she's going to go get for lunch.
Then, chances are, she'll mention what she's having for dinner that evening, and possibly the following evening, too.

Today's conversation:

Me: Good morning!
Chef: Hi. How are you?
Me: Fine. Did you have a good weekend?
Chef: Yeah. Yesterday, I made chili. It was so good! I brought some for lunch today. Then, she opens her desk drawer and pulls out a Ziploc bag with two pieces of bread in it. See, I brought bread to go with it. (holds up the bag)
Me: I see that. (why in the hell would I not believe someone when they tell me that they brought bread to have with their lunch? I'm a very trusting person. If you tell me you brought an entire loaf of bread to have with your bowl of chili, I'll believe you. You don't have to show me!)
I try to slowly step away toward my office before I scream (not scream for ice cream, either)
Chef: I marinated some chicken breasts for dinner tonight.
Me: That sounds good. (How did "How was your weekend" turn into the Chef Family weekly dinner menu?)
I got out of there without screaming, but it still left me feeling disturbed.

My own lunch story (Uh-oh, I feel a poop story coming on. Sorry for anyone who really thought I could post without a poop/fart story)

My coworker, Doggie Mama, is out of town for a few days. She asked me to stop by her apartment today on my lunch to walk her bulldog. He's a nice dog and all, but he's: a) a humper, and b) slobbery. Did I mention he's a bulldog? That's definitely not my favorite breed. I like all dogs, but the short, chubby, slobbery type is not my type of dog. Child - yes. Dog - no. So, I go over there and I take him for a walk. The entire time I've got the feeling of a really proud parent. My cat, Jackson, is so well mannered, and this bulldog makes me think of him and how wonderful he is! He doesn't jump up on people, he is very friendly and leaves people alone if they want to be left alone. I have started to believe this was normal pet behavior. Silly Carrie! I hope and pray that he just needs to pee and not poo. Oh, no! He's saved a couple of days of crap in that wrinkly body to let out while a stranger was walking him, because he knows she's really not a fan of unfamiliar animal poo (is anyone?). So, he unloads a big dump to make any human jealous. Then, I must use a little puppy poopy bag thing to pick up this strange animal's pile of crap. Oh my! I can't believe I had to do that. I did do it, but I didn't like it! I felt icky for the rest of the day.

Well, throw in a few more random situations (hardly as amusing or entertaining as Chef or doggie poo), and you've got my Monday! Yippee! I can't wait for tomorrow!

It's been a while...

It may seem like I clocked out for a little blog break, and forgot to clock back in. I know. Shame on me! Only two people have even noticed. My favorite Auntie and her coworker, Monica. Thanks, girls! If nobody noticed, I would probably quit for good. Let me sum up the past month:
We had Christmas alone in Virginia Beach. No visit to Missouri/no visitors from Missouri. We mailed our gifts to them and they mailed ours to us. They were great gifts, but I like to be there in person. Our Christmas tree was on its farewell tour, and that was bittersweet. Just for kicks, (partial laziness) we left it glowing until mid-January. I always say that the Christmas spirit hits me right after Christmas, and I think it does. Then, it goes away about the time that we start receiving our tax paperwork in the mail. That's when I go back to thinking that giving is NOT better than receiving, and whoever says giving is better is full of crap! But, I'm sure we'll come out as givers yet again. Maybe they'll receive a check from me that I swiped through my butt crack. Oh, yes! I'm not above this behavior! I have done it once and I'll do it again. Once, we had to pay $2100 to get out of our apartment. We told them two days after the deadline that we were moving (into our first home), and to break the lease, we had to pay 3 months rent. Yikes! First, it was going to be a cat turd (in a separate envelope), but I decided they needed something better. That's when I decided to stick their check where the sun didn't shine (on me). HEE HEE! I hope they opened that envelope and kissed the check! ICK!

Recent funnies

Salute to the Poot

I really meant to post this story immediately after it happened, but I didn't. The husband and I were at Barnes & Noble right before Christmas. The store is pretty busy, and the husband is looking at one of those Magic Eye books describing what he sees on each page. I was really good at those when I was younger, but all I see now is fish-like shapes in about each one. It could be an airplane or hot air balloon, but it always looks like a fish to me. So, I informed him that I had a little gas (he probably rolled his eyes and said "What's new?" but I'm not sure) I asked him if he would be my wingman and cough a couple of times to cover it up. He fake coughed twice pretty loud (he's not a good actor at all - they were totally fake coughs). It went a little something like this...
*COUGH*...*COUGH* (HIM)...*LOUD TOOT* (ME)
So, my toots were on a 2-3 second delay, and we totally missed our mark...uhhh, I missed my mark. By now, the husband's face is BRIGHT red. I told him that he was fired as my wingman, and he said he was glad. I don't think anyone heard, but who knows! The husband said his coughing only brought more attention to the toot and nobody was fooled by it. HEE HEE! I think people were probably drawn to a grown-ass man fake coughing in the middle of the bookstore. I looked at him as if we was the guilty party, just in case someone noticed. This is one of those times when he and I agree that I belong back in the country!

Poopy Picnic (Proper People Prohibited)

The other night, I told the husband that my poo smelled like a rotten picnic (as I was laughing). I couldn't stop laughing, as he looked at me very confused. He told me that he had never heard of a rotten peg leg before and wouldn't know what it smelled like, and wouldn't even guess how I would know what it smelled like. I couldn't stop laughing to tell him what I had really said. Even after I told him "picnic," he wondered why I would compare my poo to a picnic. I guess I think of picnic when I think about the state parks and the poop chutes in their restrooms. It's just a loooooong bucket that everyone's poo and pee goes in. I guess it gets its smell from the variety of poos that go into it. Maybe I had eaten a variety of foods that day, and I had a "miscellaneous" poo smell as opposed to a "certain type of food" poo smell. I don't know.

New Year's Eve

My bestest friend, Jenn, visited for New Year's Eve. We had adult beverages and danced the night away playing my new Dance Dance Revolution SuperNova edition (DDR). The husband also danced with us. He's pretty good! It's so rude that someone would come into my home and play my game and beat me at my own game! Just kidding, Jenn! She's a much better dancer than me! I got this game for Christmas in an effort to lose weight and have fun at the same time. I know that you can't really lose weight by laughing really hard, or I'd be in some sort of anorexic rehab right now, but the silly game makes you sweat like a pig! It's really fun, but I'm getting tired of the same songs all the time! There's probably 20 songs on there now, but you have to "earn" more. That means dancing perfectly on SuperNova fast speed or something. No, thanks. I'm on the beginner level, and I'll probably stay there! The box says "Over 70 Songs" but I have yet to unlock even one additional song. So, I'm stuck with one song each from Kelly Clarkson, David Bowie, Franz Ferdinand and Cyndi Lauper, then a bunch of strange songs. It's a hoot! When we got tired, we sat down and flipped through a bunch of gossip magazines. Ahhhh...now that's my kind of New Year's Eve! We went out on the deck at midnight and tooted (just when you though I had used "poo" and "toot" enough times in one post) our noise makers and watched the fireworks around the area. Most of the neighborhood was gone, so it wasn't too crazy around here.

Jillian's

Last night, we went to Jillian's at Waterside in Norfolk. It's like Chuck E. Cheese for adults. There's food, adult beverages, etc. and all the arcade games you can think of! We always do the funny ones. There's one that you hang on to these two handles and it sends 3,000 watts through your body. It's really just vibrations that are really strong (slightly painful, but not really) The husband and I held on together once, then I did it by myself once. It's so fun! I got all the way to 3,000 watts by myself. My hands were numb afterwards, but it was so worth it! We also did the motorcycle game, where you actually sit on the motorcycle and tilt from side to side as you use the gas and brake. We did similar ones for race cars, jet skis and a bobsledding one, too. It's just a little bucket seat that you sit in, and tilt from side to side as you sled down a hill with snow plows and trees as obstacles. I wanted to do a horse racing one, but it was out of order. I like this Dunk-an-Alien game that's like skee ball, but you are supposed to hit this moving target, and this alien guy falls down and says all of this weird stuff. You earn tickets with that one. Last time, we used our tickets to buy a bunch of crap. The husband got a bunch of plastic paratroopers, I got a rubber duck, an oversized blow-up hammer, Play Doh, and one of those fart cans. It's the slime stuff that you push down in the plastic can, and it makes some nasty sounds. I don't know where it went, though. This time, we gave our tickets to James. He's one of my students, and he turned 21 at midnight. He bought an oversized pen with some of the ticket. It's about the size of a summer sausage (known as "donkey dick" in my family). Sometimes, things that are larger than they should be are really funny! Anyways, we made it until 11:30 or so, and left the party. He had been drinking all night, so midnight wasn't really going to be a big deal. He was planning on riding the mechanical bull at the bar, though. I wish we could have been there for that. HEE HEE!

Well, I'm sure I'll think of lots of stuff that has happened over the past month and post it later, but I think this gives me a good start to get people's attention and to get my two (three on a good day) readers back to reading on a regular basis. :)

Let's catch up!

It's been a few days since my last post, so I need to remember all of the random and silly things that have happened. Friday night was the university's holiday (in other words, Christmas) party in Richmond. I drove so the husband could use our adult beverage tickets. I have learned to tolerate those people without liquor, so I thought I would do him a favor. He was thankful! The boss was really shit-faced! He even asked the husband for a ride back to the hotel. The husband told him that we drove the truck and we didn't have room. Whew! I did not want to be the drunkmobile driver! We got back to the hotel and decided we would hit a bar or two, so I could "get my drink on" since we were walking from the hotel. I hadn't had so much as one drink in months, so I was ready to have a margarita or five! We started at Sine, a little Irish pub we had been to once when we lived in the city. We got there and it was for a crowd younger than us. Okay, I'm 26 and he's 31, but after being married for five years, you're too old for environments like this one. We each had a drink there, then decided to move on up the street. We then went to Richmond Brewing Co. It was much quieter and for an "older" crowd. I had a fish sandwich and a screwdriver, and the husband had some chicken and beer. Yum! It was almost midnight, and I was seriously pooped! I couldn't stop yawning. My 26-year-old self was tired of this bar-hopping thing. Okay, a company Christmas party and two bars - someone like me can call this bar-hopping. It's just not my thing.
We woke up to the sound of the housekeeping lady banging on our door. Ummm...it's 8am, and checkout time is noon. Why in the hell would you beat on our door like that? We didn't answer it, but I was so mad I couldn't go back to sleep. There was also a child out in the hall running and screaming. I realize that we're not the responsible type that have children (yet another reason why coming up soon...), but parent-type people need to respect our decision to act like we're 21 again one night each year, and keep their child-monster quiet between the hours of 8-11am!
We woke up and got around so we could visit one of our favorite places in the area...Cracker Barrel! If you can believe it, the city we live in now does not have a Cracker Barrel. The closest one is actually over an hour away. We filled up and left awfully happy! We had to stop by the police supply store for some flashlight batteries for the husband. I don't mind going there, because they have guns and such, and the redneck in me really comes out in stores like that. It's like having a date at Bass Pro - sometimes, it just seems right. Next, we drove through our old neighborhood to see our old house. It's still as cute as ever. The people that bought it from us still have the welcome plaque at the front door and the ugly tree is still in the front yard. That poor tree had been through a bad hurricane, and it looked like a big wishbone. Then, we went to Ukrop's, our most favoritist grocery store ever! FUNNY STORY ALERT!!! If you're easily offended, stop reading now. We finished our shopping, and the husband started feeling the effects of Cracker Barrel. He and his body are firm believers in "Out with the old, in with the new." He said he was going to the restroom while I checked out. He was in there for a while (no surprise), and he come out with a big grin. This could have meant many things. Here's what went through my mind: a) no toilet paper; b) toilet clogged; c) someone walked in and laughed and/or puked. I was wrong! He said that he was in there, doing is business and minding his own. There was only one stall, and he was in it. He also mentioned a 1-inch crack in the door. He said he heard the bathroom door open and then he saw a 2-foot person (I'm guessing this was an estimate) come and peek in the stall door. The little boy said, "I gotta go potty." The husband covered his frank and beans and just looked down, ignoring the boy. (I don't know why) The boy paced for a moment, then went back to the stall door and said it again, "I gotta go potty." The husband continued to ignore him. (I still don't know why) So, the little boy paced, then went through the routine one more time, but this time louder and more serious, "I GOTTA GO POTTY!" The husband still ignoring him. (I STILL DON'T KNOW WHY) So, he heard the door to the outside open, and a motherly voice say, "Are you ready to go home?" and a little boy's voice screaming and crying, saying, "NO! I GOTTA GO POTTY!" So, the husband is expecting to walk out of the bathroom with everyone pointing and whispering, "psssst...psssst... he's the one from the bathroom stall..." or a mother waiting outside to kick his ass. If you know my husband, you would understand. He's the kindest, sweetest person ever. He wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings or make a child cry, but he had enough of being interrupted in the bathroom, and this poor child had to deal with the consequences. I do it to him all the time. While he's on the throne, I'll say "Hey! What do you want for dinner?" or "Hey! Did you get the mail?" or "Hey! Are you almost done?" I had pushed him over the limit, and this poor child was being punished for it. The husband could have said, "Just a minute" or something, but he didn't. He played dead...on the toilet. I have a feeling this is why we don't have children yet. Each little event like this moves our names back to the bottom of the stork's delivery list, like pushing Sonic's red order button again - it moves you back to the end each time you press it. We're both going to try to do better!