Screw the Bubble

Background Noise: Ven v. Pur in WBC Baseball
Last Visited: Barb by Proxy
Random Thought: does my brother's heart lie in Windmill Lane? I thought that was only me...
Mood: what a day

Warning: the following contains acts of public lewdness* that may not be suitable for any potty-trained person. You have been warned.

Now, i know this should go without saying, but when you're a guest in someone's home, don't shit on their kitchen floor.

And i don't mean that figuratively, i mean that literally.

I don't actually understand the level of inebriation that is required for one to think that kitchen linoleum looks like a good toilet, and i hope to never understand that particular level of hell, but even more than that, i don't then understand not then realizing that you did something wrong. Something you should fix. Something you should maybe... clean up, or, not leave.

I don't understand how one can walk to the kitchen - perhaps for a glass of water? - pull down your pants, cop a squat, take a dump, pull up your pants, then walk back to the living room and go back to sleep. Then have the audacity in the morning to claim that your hostess's cats were obviously responsible, and where is your breakfast?

Put another way: how dare you take a shit on my best friend's kitchen floor and then make her clean it up?!?!?!??

I know people who had an "accident" in kindergarten who are still traumatized by the memory. I cannot even begin to comprehend the level of embarassment, shame, or a complete realization that one's life is out of control that should result from such an incredibly rude, lewd, completely unacceptable act.

Oh. My. God.

If the person responsible for the above behavior is reading this - you better apologize. Profusely. Send flowers. Send shoes. Send handbags. Send money. Send professional cleaners. Do you understand what kind of Saint Barb is for not waking you up and tossing your ass(es) on the street? Do you even understand what sort of hell you have created in your friend's beautiful new home? I don't care that you're jealous that she's grown up and moved on from the get-wasted-every-night-so-you-don't-have-to-come-to-terms-with-your-life phase and found a good job and a good apartment and a great life in a city she can afford to live in. I don't care that you're miserable that she isn't at your beck and call every weekend to play cruise director. I don't care that you don't actually know what to do with your life so you're wasting time playing with Daddy's gold card. Apologize before you loose the best shot at a real friend you'll ever have.

And do it now, or you'll find yourself out in the cold faster than you could ever imagine.

ETA:: * yes, i know that lewd isn't the right word in this case, there isn't anything (i hope) sexual in this story. However, i really like the word "lewd" and never get to use it, so i'm taking my chance. Feel free to replace "lewd" with "crass," "disgusting," or "filthy."

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