I feel like I've just given birth, though that's likely related to the sheer volume of yesterday's pasta I just pooped out. However, the art project I finally finished pooping out at 1:50 last night is giving me a stronger sense of accomplishment.
Today's poops were solid, until they were not. Very strange hybrid poops. I suspect the changed timing and sporadic stop/start use of doctor-prescribed pharmaceuticals is having an unwanted, and largely undocumented, effect. Then again, I'm not a doctor. I'm a dude with some weird poops today. Oh, and yesterday.
Before I regale you with tales of my fabulous exploits (which, I assure
you, are quite fabulous, indeed), I hereby announce HuSi Poops Fun Challenge,
First Daily! The rules are simple; you try to make some poops, you succeed,
or you fail, then you submit your poopsmaking effort, which I then trump
with the sheer awesomenity of my own poopsmaking abilities, and the ease with
which I produce such vile excrement. Then I am declared the winner of Poops
Fun Challenge, and the cycle begins anew. Got it? Good. Go make poops. IN THE
TOILET, PEOPLE, IN THE FUCKING TOILET. Anyone who makes poops on the floor or
in their pants is disqualified for being an asshole, and, quite possibly, a
homeless asshole, at that. And we all know that homeless assholes aren't
even technically human, and therefore can be killed with impunity. I know
where you are, people. I can see you from the Dial-a-view hovering 25 miles above
your head. I can see your tiny little subhuman heat signature, and I can see that
even tinier steamy brown log coming out of your ass. I'm homing in on that
right now. You have mere seconds to live.
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