Its going to be a good week dammit!

It's Monday morning.
I really don't need a reason to rant.
The mere fact that it's Monday is reason enough.
Frankly, Monday mornings make me so cranky I could rant forever about the colour of the butterfly that fluttered in through my office window. I'm partial to blue butterflies so god forbid a yellow butterfly venture anywhere into the periphery of my vision.

I woke up this morning and decided that HAD to change.
Yep, even if it killed me, this was going to be best goddamned week I've ever had.
I was going to dig deep, very VERY deep, and pull out my confident, positive, go-getter, the-world-is-my-oyster attitude. I thought maybe, just maybe if for once I woke up early (instead of the rushed "I'm late!" Monday routine), had a 30 minute power session at the gym before work it might help reinforce my newly found invincibility and joi de vivre.

Usually nothing short of a sudden fit of madness would make me think it would be a good idea to visit the gym at 6:00 in the morning. This is not a decision I would normally make without the help of several banned substances + illegal quantities of caffeine. I think the point where I lost touch with my faculties was when I noticed my belly button, which has always been an Innie anyway, had now completely vanished behind the numerous overlapping rolls of flab.

So I dug up my gym gear, jumped into a taxi and headed straight for the Fitness Centre.
Yeah, the naming here was just genius. I wonder how long it took them to come up with that. Everything was going according to plan until, in my newly found fitness frenzy and "I believe I can fly" attitude, I literally leapt out of the taxi leaving my new company-given, state-of-the-art, Cell Phone Meets Palm Top behind. As I was about to shut the door I noticed the phone lying there on the back seat. The taxi guy was already starting to drive off so I told him to hold on because I'd left my phone behind. Probably the dumbest thing I'll ever do, because as soon as he heard me and had a glimpse of what was lying back there, he just sped off!
With the door STILL HANGING HALF OPEN.
I kid you not.
WTF?
What is wrong with these people?
Am I the last (semi-) decent person on the planet?
Today I sure as hell believe in Karma coz for what he did, the bastard has got to bleed.

So, its Monday morning and a genuinely rant-worthy thing has actually happened to me.
normally I would take this unfortunate mishap and let it traumatise me for life.
On any other Monday it would envelope me and weigh me down for the rest of the year.
But guess what.
Not this Monday.
It happened and its over.
I won't make a meal out of this.
For once, I'm going to move swiftly along.
Nothing can veer me off this natural high I'm on.

This is going to be a jolly good week.
I insist.

Ah, got to go.
My boss just walked in with one mean look on his face.
But I don't mind coz he's looking devilishly handsome today.

Hunger?

Ok, I'm back.
It helped.
I still feel dazed and confused though.

Maybe I just needed to eat something afterall.

One mother of a craving

I can't focus.
But I'm not shaking.
Yet.
And I'm sure as hell not thinking.
I can almost smell it.
That sweet sweeeeeet taste of tar and nitric acid lightly tossed in a cauldrum and glued onto my lungs.
Ahhhh.
Why do i taunt myself so.

Then the tea lady shows up with strong filter coffee.
Sans milk, sans sugar, sans nothing.
Just me, a black-ass coffee and one mother of a craving.
I bet she can tell I'm about to scrape some wood shavings off my desk, roll up all my Post-Its and light up right here and now.
Hey, don't look at me bitch...YOU brought me the bloody coffee.
And we all know what black coffee does to a craving.
You did it on purpose you f*$#%(* c*#$. I'll get you for this in the dark of the night when you and your brood are sleeping. I'll use nail clippers to dig out all your internal organs, you sorry excuse for a human. I swear I will.

No, i'm not stressed.
What? I'm not!

But I will resist.
I nearly fainted at the gym yesterday because my lungs couldnt possibly have a single spot of pink left on them.
We had just done 20 mins of stretching and cardio when i realised that it was actually a Taebo class and that was just the warm-up.
Needless to say, I promply fainted.

But I'm determined.
I said I will resist.

Yes. I will.
I wont light up.
Noooo.
Cant have that.
Nopey nopes.
Stop it evil mindfuck, I wont give in
You want me to say please?
Ok Fine. Please stop it.
STOP IT!!!
Please?
No?






Fukkit.
I'm lighting up man.

100 Things

1. I'm 26
2. I think I'm weird
3. Those who know me tend to agree
4. I’m a dare devil
5. You name it; I’ve done it or would do it
6. I still keep a diary
7. Even though its hardly ever updated
8. I’ve thought of ending my life
9. But I could never go through with it
10. It would shatter my dad
11. That is probably my only selfless thought
12. I love sex with women
13. Although I have never been in love with anyone
14. I’ve only ever been in one relationship
15. With a guy
16. We hardly ever saw each other
17. I lost my virginity at 19
18. To him
19. Hated it
20. So I abstained for another 2.5 years
21. I’m a couch potato
22. I’m pathologically unable to keep in touch
23. But I still insist on getting pen pals
24. They only last about 3 weeks
25. 24 Hour Party is the worst (docu-)movie ever
26. It just edges out Muholland Drive on suck-points
27. I used to read a lot of novels
28. And live in chat rooms
29. Till I got a real job
30. I’ve always been the best in all my math classes
31. I have a Masters degree in Computer Science
32. I’ll swap it for your MBA
33. I’m Cameroonian
34. I grew up in Europe and South Africa
35. My accent sounds 55% South African, 15% American, 15% Cameroonian and 15% MyVeryOwnEuropeanCocktail
36. Backpacking is overrated
37. When you are alone and on a shoestring budget
38. I know several card tricks
39. Little kids love it. Big kids (adults) do too
40. I think cats are oversized rodents
41. I’m a dog person. Can you tell?
42. But its too much of a hassle to keep one
43. I’m battling with bulimia
44. Its sort of under control
45. I cant express myself as well as I would like to
46. It frustrates me to no end
47. I will hash out an argument mentally
48. Long after the argument is over
49. I wish I was taller
50. A lot taller
51. I rarely swear when I talk
52. But I cant help myself when I diarize
53. I wish racists would just roll over and die
54. Along with all their victims walking around with a huge chip on their shoulder
55. I hate bananas
56. But not as much as I hate mayo
57. Long story
58. I can live off cornflakes
59. I have (and earned) a drivers license
60. But lack of practice means I still can’t drive
61. I’m a smoker
62. Make that chain smoker
63. I still keep it a secret from my Daddy
64. I love the idea of having twins
65. Just the idea
66. I’m a loner
67. Probably because I’m self-absorbed
68. Its my way or go away
69. I hate religion
70. I feel like I’m the only secular humanist this side of the Sahara
71. I have a tongue piercing
72. But no tattoos
73. Way too permanent
74. I hate family gatherings
75. If I wasn’t so grounded (confined?) by family I’d be a Goth/ piercing billboard
76. Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped inside my body/circumstances/enviroment and I'm screaming to come out.
77. Linkin Park is my favourite band
78. I’m a bit of a tomboy
79. I have no problem doing risky thinks (bungee, ski-diving)
80. We all die eventually anyway.
81. Nothing wrong with dying now.
82. I love to sing
83. But all I do is croak
84. At least I KNOW that I can't sing
85. Cant say the same for some of the pop idol wanabes
86. I have no sympathy for victims of domestic abuse
87. They chose to stay there
88. I feel very strongly about a lot of things
89. I’m very passionate when I talk about those things
90. Politics is not one of them
91. I love blockbuster movies and epics
92. Ellen Degeneres rocks my world
93. Because she’s funny and hot.
94. I think way too much and analyse everything
95. Like why yawning is contagious
96. Or why women suck at golf
97. I’m really bad at names and faces
98. I lose my train of thought a lot
99. In mid sentence
100. Blame the weed
101. Above the 100 mark.
102. So sue me.
103. I love English soccer
104. Probably more than the average male Brit
105. ManU forever!! (Chelsea, you're going down bitch!)
106. I wish I was born into an indigenous forest dwelling tribe
107. No school, no mortgage(s), no free-thinking thoughts, no Big Brother crappy judicial system, no 9-5 daily mind-fucking grind, no concrete jungle, no middle/lower/upper class complexes
108. And No blog to waste my life away on.

Next Blog

By the way, that 'next blog' button we all have on blogspot FUCKING SUCKS!!!

There goes my not swearing resolution, but I can't help it when i try to be all nice and sweet and I just happen to walk right into the thickest pile of goat shit so early in the morning. I don't know if its just my bad luck or there's just oodles of crap floating around in blogspot but I can't remember the last time i clicked the 'next blog' button and got something worthwhile.

Breath, Lynda, breath, don't wreck the beautiful positive energy you surrounded yourself with this morning.

Thats better.

2 quick things

This is going to be quickie because I have tons of work to do and my New Week's resolution is to actually do something resembling work at work. If I lose my job my poor little bloggy will suffer and whither away like a rose budding in hell.

Two things of note happened during this past long weekend (Friday was a hol) - Leaving out the usual partying and getting stoned part coz that's a regular weekend if you know anything about me:

Saw this cute little movie called Pieces of April. It was a bit of a low budget looking flick which I thought was totally appropriate considering its 'poor neighbourhood' settings. Nothing stood out as brilliant apart from the familiar cast of Katie Holmes, the cute black kid from Finding Forrester and the big head guy from Men in Black or was it Independence Day? Anyhow, I thought it was rather nice little movie. Time well spent.

Second thing is, I took my 19 year old kid bro and his 2 best mates out for dinner at a posh restaurant. The service we got was crap considering the amount of money I was dishing out, but we still had such a blast. What really made it a great evening was the part after dinner when I was just lying back in my chair digesting and sucking on my ciggie like my life depended on it, when my bro - Victor - just stared at me and said " Wow. I love it that you are my sister. I love everything about you".

Can you spell BEAMING?

Fine, it was a cuter story in my head but I don't get to hang out with him a lot and its great to be appreciated by someone, even if its a relative.

K. Nuff said.

wtf??? partial profanity?? f**king liars!

So there I was, once again on my usual crusade around cyber space, trying to submerge myself in 1's and 0's in another desperate attempt to escape the morbid pit of shit that is my life. On this fateful day, I happened to run full frontal into miss carrie's little blog explosion button.

There are a lot of pointless time wasters masquerading as Blog Exposers out there. But after careful deliberation, I decided to submit my humble blog [to blog explosion] , sit back, relax and watch the all the cyber junkies swarm in in their numbers to witness first hand my greatness and then promptly proceed to worship at the altar of Me.

As soon as i got the heads up that my little bloggy had been accepted [in blog explosion], I went in [to blog explosion] to check how it was faring. I must say I was a little gob smacked to say the least when i tracked down Bloggy [on blog explosion] and was met with these three little words: "contains partial profanity". Would you believe. Since i have nothing better to do with my life, I decided to embark on a little experiment to investigate exactly how profane I've been.

I found out that in the last 15 or so posts I've used, in several variations, that sumptuous four-letter word beginning with F only 40+ times (half of that number appears in my letting out steam rant). So with my highly advanced deduction skills i declare that by no stretch of the imagination does that constitute partial profanity. Maybe if I throw in all the other choice four letter words I've used, and only then, could it be construed as slightly PG.

Anyhow, since this is not how I generally speak, and to demonstrate that I was raised in a polite godfearing family, I've decided from here hence forth to refrain from 'partial profanity' on this blog. Plus i think its becoming a bad habit. Like smoking. Or procastinating. Or drinking. And all the other bad habits I've accumulated over the years.

So to celebrate this joyous occasion, I now declare today a public holiday.
The International F-Free Day.

I will avoid topics that make my blood curdle.
I will talk about gummi bears and cotton candy.
For the next 2 posts at least.

But still. These guys are big fat liars.
Fucking jerks.

One more thing in case you missed it in all my subtlety : BLOG EXPLOSION

Pressure Cooker

Oh joy.
It's starting to happen.
The pressure is really beginning to build up now.
I'm still young enough to get away with it, but just barely.
I must have some time-bomb hanging from my neck that is visible to everyone but me.
And my time is dangerously close to running out.
Tick tick tick.

Aunt: So, don't you have a boyfriend yet?
Me: Boyfriend? Uh...no. You asked me on Friday. Not much has changed since then.
Aunt: *sigh*. I know this guy who...
Me: No thanks, really, that’s ok. It's just not one of my priorities at the moment [and could we please never have this conversation again. At least not until next week].

This little chitchat was followed by a brief shake of the head by my auntie dearest, spilling forth gallons of empathy, all without actually saying a word.

I'm surrounded by people bursting out of their skins to remedy my "situation". I feel like i should be the main attraction of some freakshow where all the little kiddies come to watch me and giggle and whisper to each other "There she is! Ooooh. Look at her, look at her! I heard she's SINGLE!!", then the mommy goes "it's not polite to point. Not too close kids, I dont want you catching it."

Ok, maybe i got a little carried away... but hey, did no one watch Sex and the City? Single is the new couple. For the umpteenth time, I do not want to be set up. But thank you. Now go away.

Through my magic crystal ball - the Revealer of the Future That Never Lies, I see my dad calling an emergency extended family meeting to get to the bottom of my "problem". Because apparently it is a problem. Unheard of quite clearly. A disease that must be cured lest my siblings catch it and be cast out of society for their nonconformance. How could it be that his pride and joy will not be cookie-cut into another 30-something housewifey SUV-driving suburban mom surrounded by kid snot? Sacrilegious.

In another 3-4 years I'll start hearing whispers in the wind about...dare I even say it.... an arranged marriage, probably suffixed by "if anyone would have her". I swear that’s the day you'll watch a story on CNN about a psychotic woman somewhere in Africa who impaled her parents with a ruler.

Methinks Coming Out Day is pretty damn close. Or at least, Leave Me the Fuck Alone Day.

Honestly I wouldn’t actually mind having a Mini-Me. I wouldn’t mind having a girlfriend either. In fact that would be awesome. Gees, I wonder how my parents would react if i came out. Even my progressive, worldly Aunt might still pop a vein. Maybe i need to stop worrying.

Maybe i need to stop rambling now and go back to work.

********
On a completely unrelated note: Damn, I wish I could use chopsticks. I cannot for the life of me understand how you can eat rice with those things. I nearly skewered my eyes during supper yesterday. Those things are dangerous, a hazard to society I tell ya. No one seems to notice that in my hands they are the real Weapons of Mass Destruction. They should at least come with a warning consumer label for some us, the less bright sparks, along the lines of: "If you eat while wildly flapping around like a conductor on crack you stand a good chance of losing an eye or two".

*******

I'm starvin.
I'm going to go reload, come back, and pretend to work some more.
Steve call me. Now dammit.

Those damn evil forces again

I think I'm losing sight of the original purpose of this blog.

Its supposed to be the place where I hide in obscurity to bitch about how the dark invisible forces of the world are actively conspiring to ruin my life.

I had a totally awesome weekend
Suddenly the evil forces are on a break
Suddenly I'm happy
Deliriously, obscenely, make-me-puke happy
I'm so god damn happy its making me paranoid
I feel it. Today I'll slip on an a banana peeling and break my neck.
I'll get run over by a kid on his skateboard and die a sudden freak death.
Ohmygod! A vicious alien man-eater!
Oh wait. Just a stray doggy.
Why are you looking at me?
Stop looking at me!!
Are you still looking at me?!?!!!

My happiness is making me depressed.
Oh look, im depressed.
I'm happy coz i'm depressed.
Its my comfort zone.
Its all i know how to be.

Hmm. I guess the dark forces are back.
Relief.
All is well with the world.

To Haloscan or not

Thats the question.

I'm so envious of how easy it is to leave a permanent impression of your insight and superior intellect on those sites fortunate enough to have been HaloScanned.

But whats the deal with that traceback link everyone has? Its always 0 and frankly just looks annoying. Hopefully thats an optional feature.

My only niggling concern is: do your comments disappear if Halo shuts down? Where's the track record? How reliable are these guys?

Oh well, this is hardly the cause of sleepless nights.
But anything not to do real work.

What have we got trapeizing across my desk? Are those ants??? Lets do an ant-race! Work? who, me? But then who will entertain the little ants?

Small Talk

It's a bitch being single.
A royal pain in the ass.

Last night - true, it was a weekday. but its alcohol. how can I say no? - I’m hanging out with my new friend Dibs at this bar. (Who by the way is soooo hot, but I could never tell her that, at least not in an "I dig you" way, coz on the one hand she is totally straight, on the other she's got a boyfriend, and on a third hand I kinda like having her as a friend).

Yes, so we were at this funky bar leisurely contemplating the avant-garde decor...(um, ok well she was contemplating the decor, while I contemplated her - coz have I mentioned she's hot?)...when she moseyed off to get us some more coolers.

Its alcohol, of course I'll have another one. Or two. Or five.
I watch her walk away.
I almost watch her walk away.
This huge, butt-ugly, not-my-type-in-all-kinds-of-ways guy just appears from nowhere and inserts himself into my line of vision.
I'm thinking: Hello, yes Hi, you are blocking my view of the eye candy.
He comes over and asks for a light, so I give him my lighter. He saunters off.
Next thing he’s back coz he wants a smoke. Sure. Here, have two.
Maybe next time you’ll get a ciggie, then a light, in that order.
The time? Uh…just after eleven.
Oh you like my hair? I also dig this hairstyle, not too short and not too long.
Nah, I don't come here often, too expensive for me.
My pants? Um, its regular cotton I think. Yeah, yeah, very airy indeed.
Dude, please, lets not do the weather.

I needed to get away before I told him exactly what I thought of his crocodile shoes. The last time people did crocodile was when Sean Connery was James Bond.
I could see the ladies room out of the corner of my eye.
It beckoned.
I obliged.

But the worst part? HE FREAKING FOLLOWED ME.
No, it was not an Ally McBeal-ly unisex loo. Not with that big milkmaid figurine nailed to the door. And if he happened to miss that not so subtle gender demarcation, it was clearly written LADIES in red neon letters at the top of the door.

What do you have to do to get away from a guy these days? If I wasn’t so closeted I’d strut around with a T-Shirt that says "Meow, I luv pussies". But I don’t like fucking hate cats. I won't spoil if for you because my acrimony and just outright revulsion for cats deserves to be outlined in its own special post.

But back to the Croc Dude… I must have lost my mind coz somehow I ended up giving him my number. It got him off my back for the rest of the evening, but it’s less that 24 hours later and he's already called me 4 times. I haven’t picked up yet. How many times am I going to give my number to someone I know I never want to see ever again? You’d think after the first 600 times I’d learn. Another lesson me in all my royal thickness and fucking density have somehow failed to grasp is : don't go to a bar on a week night.

Oh well.
Like I said:
It's a bitch being single.
A royal pain in the ass.

Monday

Its almost time to go home. I guess I'll just Blog the last 10 minutes away. I need to pinch myself to check if I'm really still alive. Lets define 'alive' shall we? If its breathing you mean...sure I guess I'm alive. Otherwise I'm probably as alive as dead wood, but even that has creepy crawlies all over it giving it a semblance of life. Somehow I made it through my boss' incessant mouth movements. He probably thought he was communicating but even though I could see lips moving, all I could hear was the clock ticking. Occasionally I'd sip on my glass of water, hide my yawn and nod knowingly. Yes sir! First thing in the morning I'll get on it. I will, as soon as I figure out what the fuck you were going on about.

5:30.
Finally done with this long ass day.
Is this the rest of my life?
Fuckin hell.

Motherhood

I want a kid. But there are several reasons why I can't responsibly decide to have one:

• I'm not yet financially stable enough to care for a baby. For one, I'm still living with family
• I'm not in a stable or even remotely healthy long term relationship.
• I am known to exhibit murderous tendencies when rudely awoken at 3am
• Kids are universally known as Style Crampers. I'm in no way, shape or form prepared to surrender my independence, club hopping, party going, swearing, or weed smoking days.

On the plus side I'm a sweet and loving person 10% of the time.

Look. I said want a kid. You know, like how a kid wants a dog but won't feed it, take it to the vet or clean out the dog poop. I want a kid just for the good times: while he's cute smelling fresh and all smiles. So someone gimme a kid. I promise to love him some of the time.

Let me know if you want to be my sperm donor.

I confess

Everyone seems to have a "100 things" list. That is, everyone except me. I feel so left out. Like I'm not part of the online bourgeoisie living at the cusp of the blogging cutting edge. Aw, but creating one is going to require sooo much brainpower. A HUNDRED things? Thats a truck load of things. Make that 2 trucks. But apparently 100 doesn't seem to cut it. No sirree... the new rage is now a 100+ thingies coz people just can't stop talking about themselves. Yes okay, I'm guilty too. Whatever. But anyway I'm going to start off with something shorter, something i've wanted to do forever.
Drum roll please......
I'm going to spill my guts.
Expose my entrails for the world to see.
Thats right, I'm going to confess.
Here goes:

• I confess that I love those Hanson kids. Could they be any cuter? Zac you sexy beast, you rock my world!! Even now i still catch myself humming to mmmbop.Yes i know ALL the words. What??? It was a catchy tune dammit!
• I confess that i love to think that i'm gay. Mostly because I'm terrified that I may really be asexual. Is it possible to go through life without ever falling in love?
• I confess that I usually lie about my age. Only ever by one year. This is because I've always been a year older than the others in my class even in grade school. But no more! Today i stand proud as I scream from the rooftops: I AM 25!!! Erm no wait, actually its 26.
• I confess that I love porn - I'm rather partial to group sex. But just as long as i'm horny. After that orgies suddenly seem like sick disgusting perverted stuff that should be banished from the surface of the milkyway along with all the gang bangers who will forever burn in hell for their lechery.
• I confess that I've had a threesome. Me, another girl and a guy. Ah, it was a nite so full of promise until it dawned on me that guys usually come with dicks. She wasn't going to touch it with a 10 foot pole and I cant say i blame her. What a hairy monstrosity it was. Right, so the threesome sucked. Moving on...
• I confess that I masturbate at the office even though my office door is always wide open. Damn the bloody firewall. If all the good porn didnt get blocked it would be a lot easier and faster to get it over and done with.
• I confess that I nearly fucked my fave Aunt's hubby. The only thing that saved me was the fact that i was 17 and a virgin and none of my first time fantasies involved a smelly middle-aged balding fat guy. Thats not how i dreamt giving up my cherry. But i still helped him cum. Thrice. Thankfully two weeks later she kicked out the lazy fuck. No, it had nothing to do with me.
• I confess that I fake it. Out of 10 i'd fake it twice, cum thrice and the other 5 times just stare at her: "Babe, uh...its just not workin for me".
• I confess that I've been called a coconut or an oreo. I don't even disagree.
• I confess that I love my bestfriend Steve but still think he is a wimp ass , Mr. Super Sensitive, cry baby, manic depressive, life sucking, fucking spineless chicken shit. Steve, I love you. But dude, those pills you're taking aren't cutting it coz u're still leeching my air supply. This is my friend, now lets talk about my enemies...
• I confess that nobody i have personally met has ever seen this Blog. Do you even need to ask why?
• I confess that I've stolen, shoplifted, lied, cheated (in exams) and almost always gotten away with it. We were 12, she was my best friend. Why oh why did i take her 100 bucks. I can only hope I'm now a better person, although I don't see how i could be worse.
• I confess that despite all i've confessed to there's a lot more I've done/said/thought/touched/sniffed/heard/seen that I'm too ashamed to think about let alone type them out.

If confessions are your thing try this site - it might entertain you for a wee bit

Pop goes the weasel. Or Not

Normally I wouldn't blog about a trip to the poop soup. But then again normally I wouldn't find myself holding on to the sink screaming "come out you piece of shit!". So fuck normally. Here's my trip to hell.

Yesterday, as i was about to rummage through the fridge for anything that hadn't fermented, the urge to visit the shit pit kinda slapped me upside the head, or erm downside the butt. Now to most of us, going potty is routine - I've done this so many times before it’s as natural as sex. But there was nothing routine about last night. It was a strong urge, the kind that hits you out of the blue but hits you so hard you drop everything you are doing and run clenching your butt muscles, tossing aside everything in your wake just so you don't have an unfortunate accident on your lovely spring-scented rug.

I settled down onto the ceramic rim (the seat had previously fallen off) looking forward to that familiar feeling of relief once the act is done. There I was, staring at my nails wondering if that was mould i saw on the leftover pizza, when it slowly dawned on me that this was going to be one of those. You know - a Toughie. I've had Toughies before, so I didn’t call in the paramedics yet. Normally, all it takes is a little extra effort. Normally. But like i said, this was not normally. What followed next can only be described as a trip to hell.

It felt urgent so I pushed and pushed and pushed until it hurt. Nothing. So i pushed a little more. This was clearly not working. Wait, when did i stop being the master of my own bodily functions? And why the fuck wasn't I informed? Yes okay, the day i got my period. Fine. But i'd still appreciate a little heads up.

I thought maybe if I forced it back in again it might come out a little easier. I clenched my butt cheeks and it went back up. Then I released and pushed like hell, but I could tell it wasn’t going anywhere. So I thought maybe if I broke off whatever had come out it might help. Yes, this was indeed the breakable variety. About as breakable as an iron rod. So I sent down my hand armed with tissue - but there was nothing! I could swear I just shat a baby the way it hurt, but nothing? WTF??? This had to be the dawn of a whole new specie of Toughie.

I tried the BIO (Back In and then Out) routine a couple more times. This softening technique has worked well in the past. Then I pushed for all I was worth. At this point tears were streaming down my face. I couldn’t be sure if it was out frustration, the fact that I was missing Wife Swap on tv or the sidesplitting butt-wrenching pain...either way, I had to put and end to this shit. Literally.

I saw on discovery or animal planet or something that some wild mothers massage their baby’s butt around the target exit area so it’s easier to uh...release. Trust me, it doesn’t work on humans, coz I tried. Neither does wiggling your butt. That only works if its a Skinny meets Semi-Softie and if it's partly hanging out of your sphincter. But even then the Butt-Muscle Flexing technique is more effective.

So anyway, I walked around a bit coz motion supposedly helps. I've heard horror stories about people's butts turning inside out if you tried too hard but I was ready to try anything at that point. So I tried one more time. I closed my eyes and let it rip. And then ureeka! something reared its ugly head, far enough for me to try the Break-Off Maneuver at least. Eventually, after roughly 27 minutes and 48 seconds since I started keeping tabs of the time, it happened. The highlight of my evening.

I stared down at object of my ordeal. I wanted to take a picture to capture the beast lying there smugly in the toilet bowl - you know, document the event that may have single handedly scarred me for life - but really, its a moment I would rather forget. I'm surprised I don’t need stitches, and I'm surprised the concept hasn't been developed for use as a terrorist interrogation technique:
"Talk or we'll make you drink the Toughie-Inducer (TM)."
"No! I talk! I say anything! Please - no Toughie!"

The toilet filled up with water each time I tried to flush. I'm not sure if it was the sheer size of Mr. Toughie or because I had gone through an entire roll of 2-ply and clogged the toilet. But one thing is for sure: even if the memories fade and the butt-numbing pain melts away, you will remember your ordeal for quite a while in the smell that lingers on.