Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart

The day began with what can only be described as an assplosion, and not from my own ass, or Adam’s ass, but from–you guessed it–Sunny’s ass after a debaucherous night with a Muttz-RRR-ella bone which I can’t in good conscience recommend to anyone. There was early-morning whimpering, a bit of wailing and then…the assplosion, which lasted almost an hour, and was almost human-like in its horrid foulness, and made for an awesome morning fumbling around in the dark.

Oh, the heartbreak of puppy assplosion is one that I imagine is only matched by infant assplosion, because they’re so helpless in their intestinal agony and then there is the cleaning up, and the inevitable whimper and re-mess and oh GOD, it was awful and all dark and stinky-like at 4:30 in the morning. What was more distressing, however, was that I ran into one of my neighbors who was on his way to the gym. God. Is it just me, or is 4:30 a.m. THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, and no one should be up and about unless they are feeding and/or wiping something, much less throwing a towel over their shoulder and walking to the gym and scaring the shit out of poopy braless neighbors in their pajamas.

Incidentally, I find it both interesting and dismaying that Adam never wakes up for these early-morning assplosions. While he kindly and strategically attempts to pin it on some sort of mother’s intuition, canine edition, if I had to guess, it’s more to do with the fact that he wears multiple-decibel-blocking earplugs and sleeps like the dead.

The assplosion was appropriately followed by a peesplosion later, when I went to clean the cat’s litter box and didn’t even get past the emptying phase when the little darling decided to pee a) all over the floor, followed by; b) in the empty litter box. Both meant that I was forced to deal with unfettered cat piss without the protective wicking abilities of Feline Pine.

Pee and poop, my friends. PEE AND POOP. It’s no way to start the day. That being said, what’s perhaps more distressing is that in order to console myself, I found myself in Ross searching for bras, after your recommendations ages ago, which I’ve still done nothing about, and walked out with a ton of new underwear, some of which is from some mysterious brand called “Steve.” I feel fairly confident that there is a Steve who’s exceedingly proud of the fact that he is the Steve who will be on my ass tomorrow, after the hot-water wash and sterilization, oh my God.

It goes without saying that I didn’t get any bras, but I did mysteriously find myself in Bath & Body Works AGAIN, and walked out with Sparkling Peach and Fresh Pineapple, and I don’t even think I like them, it’s like a COMPULSION that cannot be stopped, the semi-annual sale. Last time I did this, I left with Tropical Passionfruit, which smells like covered-up farts.

Clearly nothing exciting is happening here, otherwise I would have more other than pineapple body lotion and Steve-branded underpants. And poop. But I am grateful for such quiet lulls, because they oh-so-rarely last too long.

And most important of all: Big Love has returned.

*Johnny Cash.

30 comments June 11th, 2007