The Mind of Spaz

When I go off to work in the morning, I usually come home. When I go out to run some errands, I come home. Heck, even if I go to Toronto when I feel like being an ethnic minority, I usually eventually get home.

There was something very different about when I got home today. Something unusual. Something I haven’t experienced in almost four years.  When I opened the door, it wasn’t just the usual odour of prepackaged bachelor chow and loneliness I smelled.  There was another, more pungent odour mixed in. I stepped into the living room to find this:

Well what the hell. I don’t remember pooing anywhere but the toilet, and besides, it’s WAY to small to be one of mine.  I’ve got to figure out how it got there, so I put on my detective cap.

It’s too small to be one of mine. Hmm. Who else? Who’s small and has a lot of poop.  I know, it was that dastardly bastard moooooooooog.  He’s small and poops a lot, and I wouldn’t put it past him to leave a present on my floor.

It couldn’t be mooooooooog though, because not only have I taken every precaution to make sure he doesn’t know where I live, he’s also afraid to come back to Canada. It seems last time he was here he got a thrashing and hasn’t been back since.  That’ll teach ya to try to be a smart ass in the French Quarter Moooooog.  We all know Francophones have zero sence of humor.

I then thought that perhaps the magical poo fairy had left a deposit for me, after years of neglect.

So it wasn’t me, it wasn’t mooooog and it wasn’t the poo fairy.  There are no poo flinging monkey’s in Canada, so how the hell did it get there?  It was then that I heard a noise. It was very faint, and it almost sounded like whistling.

That’s right dog, hang your head in shame. That is NOT where you’re supposed to poo. Now pick it up and put it on the front steps of the school, just like I taught you.

Good girl.

poo, talking out of my ass feces, monkey, mooooog, poo, shitting, surprise

Back in the day a men’s washroom was where men

pee’d, poo’d, farted and boasted about all the women they didn’t actually screw.  This is the sanctuary for men to do all the things we’re not allowed to do in front of the women folk, because it’s a men’s room.

A men’s room as in no women allowed. You women have your own room to insert your tampons and quiff and poot or whatever it is you do.

So imagine my surprise, as I’m at the urinal with my dick in my hands, when a woman come into OUR room.

And yes, I did say dick in my HANDS.  I have the opposite problem of moooooog.  It’s a nice problem to have.

But back to the topic at hand.

Ha! Topic at HAND.

You see what I did there?

Anyways.

There are WOMEN in the mens room and I got my cock out.  It’s not like I can stuff it back in my pants because I’m peeing at the time.

You CANNOT stop midstream.  That’s impossible.  Well you can, but it feels like a billion bee’s poking at your bladder, just about ready to sting you to death.

So naturally, I FREAK! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING IN HERE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM NOW!

Actually, my reaction was more along the lines of ‘ummmm?’.

Yea, I’m such a hard ass.

I mean, if she was hot I might have risked the sexual harresment charge.  Hey, she was invading man territory, and that sends a clear signal.

Just as clear as a woman wearing a push up bra and a low cut top.  When she gets pissed at you looking down her cleavage, what she’s really saying is “I’ll meet you behind the bleachers later.  Bring a condom”.

But she did not look hot at all.  She was UGLY.  She looked like mooogs therapist.  Mooog has a picture of his therapist, so you can understand what I’m talking about.

Thank you mooog, your graphics make it easy.

So I say “ummm?”

She screams and leaves.

Apparently, the building manager was hosting a walk through so cleaning people could bid on the contract.  Apparently this woman thought the men’s room was empty, despite the building being full of over caffinated engineering types.

Silly, silly girl.

If there’s a moral to this story, I guess it’s this:

Always carry a domer in your wallet just in case the english as a second language cleaning lady walks in on you draining the main vein and she’s actually hot.

And carry a stun gun in case she looks like moooogs therapist and still wants some.

‘Nuff said.

poo, talking out of my ass feces, monkey, mooooog, poo, shitting, surprise