ok… i coulda sworn ive posted this before… even searched my own posts but this is from roy wood jr…
TWO PENNIES FROM ROYSome call it a blog, that’s fine by me. The restriction of opinions on morning radio have banished me to my own website to give you my two cents on whatever is on my mind. I may not be right, I may not have a clue. It may just be pointless babble. But it’s just my two cents.
I hold grudges. I know it’s not a good personality trait, but I think there’s a such thing as good grudges. I’ve never forgotten people in my life that have helped me along the way and I intend to pay all of them back in some shape or form. But I also don’t forget the bad people.
Chilling with the girlfriend-elect a few days ago I got a call from someone I hadn’t talk to in 4-5 weeks.
I let her know where I was and who I was with and now wouldn’t be a convenient time to talk. She politely replies with something to the equivalent of “nice knowing you, enjoy your life.” A bit harsh considering there was never much of a spark between us, even on a friendship level but oh well. There’s no guarantee that Girlfriend-elect will accept the office but hey had I known that letting another woman answer your phone is a easiest way to keep certain people from calling you then I would’ve been doing this long ago girlfriend or not. (* but that’s something to talk about in a later week *)
I wanted to write about the person that called me a long time ago but I needed for the statue of limitations to pass before I started barking about it on here.
That’s the sink in my downstairs bathroom last week. Stopped up. It was originally a slow drain. Two bottles of Liquid Plumber couldn’t speed it up so I decide to plunge the sink convinced that I could dislodge whatever it was in the drain that was slowing things up. I was wrong. What came out of the drain was this black Jagermeister looking water. With this strange greasy film over the top. The water smelled like batter-dipped marinated ass juice.
As the stench filled my nostrils I couldn’t help but recall the last time I was in the bathroom dealing with foul smells. It was 7-months earlier dealing with the aforementioned female.
She came to my apartment. Her first trip. The trip was to be a cordial one, nothing sexual or overly romantic about it. She sits on my couch and we get through about 10-minutes of an episode of ‘The Family Guy’ when I hear this bubbling sound. It was her stomach. She giggles about it and then gets up and pardons herself to the bathroom. Now I’m thinking she’s in there putting on lipstick or make-up. After 15-minutes pass, I quit thinking this. I hear the toilet flush and she returns to the couch.
She tries to start some topical chit-chat about Natalee Holloway and ‘Flavor of Love’. I was listening but all I could think to myself was.
“Did she just take a shit in my house?”
As ‘Family Guy’ is going off I hear the “internal stomach fart sound” again. She gets up and again goes to my bathroom. Toilet Flush and she returns. What amazed me was how natural she was about it. As if she’d been in my house for years and was comfortable doing this. We’re watching TV at this point but all I could think was.
“Did she just take TWO Shits in my house?”
She comes out this time and she goes… “I have a stomach virus, I thought I was over it.”. Obviously she wasn’t
Let me explain it like this ladies.a man’s toilet is his throne. You don’t disrespect a man’s throne, especially if you’re not his queen. You shouldn’t be shitting at a man’s house until after the two of you have been dating at least 11 years or have had sex a minimum of 183 times, Which ever comes first. Don’t shit in a man’s house, don’t use any of his cups or coffee mugs dedicated to his favorite sports teams and don’t borrow his DVDs if you don’t plan on dating him. (* I’ll bitch about that in a few weeks*)
If there’s a slight chance that you might be spewing pudding shit in 10-minute intervals then don’t come over. All she had to say was.“Gee Roy I’d love to come over, but um, my ass is spewing Jell-O Pudding every 7-9 minutes. I think I’m going to sit here on the toilet and play solitaire on my cell phone.”
After the 2nd trip to the toilet I discover that Jim J. McPudding Shit had done the unthinkable.she left the door open. The Glade Plug-in never had a chance. As the shit aromas started to drift into the living room I saw the glade plug-in unplug itself from the wall, give me the middle finger and then run upstairs.
She gets up AGAIN to what I think is to close the bathroom door out of respect. No…She goes back in and TAKES A THIRD SHIT!!. Three shits in under 45-mintues.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? YOU ARE SHITTING IN MY HOUSE! SHE’S TAKING A THIRD SHIT IN MY HOUSE !
Well the story gets better. Just when I thought it could get no worse she comes out and says.“Where’s your toilet plunger?” Excuse me?
YOU TOOK A SHIT IN MY HOUSE !!! YOU TOOK TWO SHITS IN MY HOUSE !!! YOU TOOK THREE SHITS IN MY HOUSE !!! AND DIDN’T FLUSH !!!
Shit and Flush. It’s a basic principal. You’re taught that at an early age. Shit a little, flush. Shit a little more, flush. Wipe, flush, repeat until you feel clean. She couldn’t even do that. And on top of that YOU HAVE DIARRHEA, Diarrhea turds don’t stop up toilets. This mean you blatant didn’t look at the amount of toilet tissue you were using.
Considering she can’t take a shit properly I don’t expect her to clean it up properly. So I’m in there plunging the toilet myself while she sits on the couch After sitting there for 2 minutes feeling guilty, She comes in the bathroom and offers the dry “Is there anything I can do to help?” YES, THERE ACTUALLY IS SOMETHING YOU CAN DO TO HELP.
[LEFT]YOU CAN GET THE FUCK OUT !!! YOU JUST TOOK THREE SHITS IN MY HOUSE!! [/LEFT]
I didn’t say that to her. But I did suggest that she go home and be alone while her stomach has a battle of epic proportions.
We didn’t talk too much after that night. The occasional phone call every 3-5 weeks or so to be sure the other one is alive and that was fine with me.