Mother would be so proud.

MUSIC: I Believe in Miracles

So yeah, I should get back to finishing the Vulgarthon writeup, but instead here’s a lovely little story about defecation. Thankfully there are no pictures.
Apologies in advance…
So this morning instead of my usual workday, I had to go to the studio lot for orientation. As I’m still not exactly sure what I can and can’t write about my job, I’ll not mention the studio by namemouse and insteadwalt just hintdonald subtly at it. Cool.
So as usual I slept in too late on Sunday and as usual had trouble falling asleep last night. I think I got about 5 hours. So not exactly the most wide-eyed this morning, I’m driving along on Riverside, I’ve got some Beck on (Mutations-style), and all is good. Then it hits me like a kick in…well, stomach. I need to go…and I need to go NOW. I’m sure this has happened to all of you before. It’s one of those George Carlin-type things that everyone knows about but no one really talks about…probly with good reason, but it’s too late to turn back. Now, I’m normally the type a’ guy likes to do his “business” in the morning when I wake up, or failing that, before bed. That’s just how I roll(pun intended…can you find it boys and girls?)…ahem.
So this morning I wake up and “all is quiet on the western front”, if you will, so shower, shave, grab some music, and out the door I go.
I’m driving(about 5 minutes away from the lot), get this alien being beamed into my gut from lord knows what evil parallel dimension or dystopian alternate future, and start to worry. See, I’ve been to the lot before. I know what building I have to go to and how far it is from parking and how long it’ll take me to get there and will I have to sign in first and it’s early what if the bathrooms are locked and oh jesus oh god this is really fucking bad and it’s kinda funny but oh man this sucks and why did I go to…Denny’s…yester…day…FUCK! Muthafuckin’ Denny’s. Why did it seem like a good idea? I’ve been there before, I know the score. Any place offering 3 pancakes, 2 bacon, 2 sausage, hashbrowns, and an ungodly-yet-deliciously-salty amalgam of eggs, sausage, bacon, and ham that must have come from some sort of genetically altered super-swine that left it’s parents on krypton, for only $4.99, is NOT to be trusted. I'd say live and learn, but I must not be a quick learner. I mean, I could’ve gotten pancakes anywhere…granted it was 3 in the afternoon and my options were limited, but still…I could’ve just made them my damn self. But no, throwing caution to the winds and intestines alike, Denny’s it was. I remember nearing the end of the “meal”(in quotations because FDA regulations surely prohibit such blatant incorrect usage of the term) and thinking “this is gonna be bad”. But hey, that was later and this is pancakes!
This wasn’t one of those stomach aches where it comes and goes…hurts for a little while, then is ok for a while, and back and forth until relief is found. Not so lucky folks…this was a full on Rodney King going on in my stomach and I sure as shit(ok, I’m REALLY sorry for that one) don’t want to see no riot.
I pull into the parking garage and proceed to powerwalk to the doors, down the stairs, around the corner, and past the few people I see starting the day’s work. Luckily this was about 7:45am, so no cars, trucks, bikes, or people to get in my way. I am doing a stiff-legged half-jog thing, to find a bathroom, on a god damn studio lot on Monday morning. Is life too fuckin weird sometimes or what? I’m trotting past stages where shows are made, historic buildings where geniuses brought some of the most beloved childhood memories to life, and all I can think is “ohgodohgodohgodohgod…”. My boy JhonnyThong says he can picture the guys carrying the pane of glass and Benny Hill music playing.
So yeah, it was a photo finish, but the alien was appropriately taken care of, the beast was heroically slayed, the noun was adverbly verbed, and that’s how I had a cheeseburger and fries for lunch.

The End.

Til next time,
Here's wishing you a hole in one.