Smut Thursday: The Early Edition

So, apparently this past weekend I ate something that didn't agree with me, and we still haven't come to a compromise. Well, either that or a demon has taken up residence in my GI tract. I've never seen so much sick shit come out of my body, quite literally in some cases.

It all started Monday afternoon. I got back from the beach, and just putzed around the house getting everything in order for the rest of the week. That's when the rumbling started. I spent a goodly portion of the evening expelling fluids. It wasn't too painful for the first 20 minutes or so, and I actually tried to make a game of it; but after that I started getting scared. For a while I wondered if I was going to start deflating or something; but finally the flow slowed to a trickle.

Yesterday I got nothing; it was the complete opposite of the day before. I think if I would have tried to spit or pee, I would've just produced dust. Everything today was fine until the afternoon - when the demon once again began to rumble. Now, as I've told you before, I'm very picky about my bathrooms. This makes using one at work, especially for what I really needed to do, very difficult. Plus, right about the time I was on the verge of bursting; a group of auditors from the state showed up. Seriously, I ran all over my workplace at a dead sprint from about 12:30 until 4:00. I would run down to records, pull the info I needed, sprint back to my office, toss it on the desk and sprint to the bathroom. Then I'd come back from the bathroom, grab the info from my desk, coallate it on the elevator, sprint to the auditors, drop it off, spin right back around and make a beeline for the bathroom. All the while while fighting the incredible instinct to let something foul explode from my face or my ass. It fucking sucked.

The part that really pissed me off was the end of the day. The VP asked me into her office to have one of those chill-down sessions. You know, you and the higher-ups have been busting ass all day and they want to sit down with you and take a load off. Hey, normally I'm all about that shit. Get out the Cubans you rich assholes, let's tell some dirty jokes! But today was not the day. So I'm sitting there trying to get out of the office while these people are all chatting it up. I begin backing away from the group while they're busy yapping; I'm trying not to sweat, pinching the quarter and simultaneously swallowing that massive amount of spit that seems to fill your mouth seconds before you spray your lunch all over someone's wall. I was inching towards the door, but eyeing the trashcan just in case. I really didn't want it to come to me shoving my ass in a trashcan in front of those who would one day vouch for my work experience, but I was wearing a pair of really nice pants and I wasn't about to ruin them. As soon as I passed the office threshold, I was racing down the hall towards the men's room. I distinctly remember unclasping my belt and loosening my pants before I was even in the bathroom. I slammed the door, locked it, and began what I can only describe as the most disgusting, privately humiliating experience of my life. It's a good thing it was late enough that most people had already gone home, because I'm pretty sure the muffled sound coming through the walls would have set someone wretching. Or at least to the nearest phone to call the paramedics or something. It took me like ten minutes to clean the stupid bathroom up. I just hope I have a job in the morning.

And if that's not tasteless enough for you, Smut Thursday might suggest that you move to this place. Seriously, read the whole thing because the really crazy shit isn't until the second page or so.

Other things smutty:
Marriage means never having to say your sorry.

And I guess this isn't smut, but it's pretty damn retarded. And you're going to laugh anyway.