CSI Crime Scene

Saturday was one of those get-drunk-twice-with-a-nap-in-between kind of days. Other than making a fool of myself at the Renter’s friend’s party (I was told I was entertaining – we know what that means), I really don’t know what else went on. Yeah, one of those days.

(Note to self – when you can no longer sit upright in a metal folding chair it’s time to leave. Waiting ten minutes longer past that point is not recommended.)

Sunday I did absolutely nothing. I swear I had to have watched ten episodes of CSI. After watching ten hours of CSI I can confidently tell you that I can solve any crime just by investigating the crime scene. I’m a quick learner. Whether it be a blood splatter pattern or squinting really hard to see barrel marks on two bullets, my investigative abilities are right up there with Mr. Grissom himself. But I’m afraid to say there was one “crime” that I just couldn’t figure out.

I didn’t eat all that much on Sunday. Around 6:00 I ordered a pizza (deep dish, greasy as fuck) and an order of chicken wings from Pizza Hut. I ate a little too fast and wasn’t able to pound down more than three slices and a couple of the chicken wings. That was for the whole day. I knew I had to (cover your ears if you’re stomach is weak) crap like an elephant as I had gas all day but (oh boy…) held it in so I could gas the Renter out. I had the fan blowing across my body and right at the Renter. Every 15 minutes or so I’d hear, “Uh!” as the Renter would catch a whiff of the tiny farts that seeped out without me knowing (seeped, love that word). This went on all day. Not wanting to crap my pants in the middle of the night I took a dump before going to bed. It wasn’t as spectacular as you would have thought after holding it in for most of the day, but decent nonetheless.

Today I almost crapped my pants driving in to work. By 9:00 I was in the bathroom giving birth to what felt like a family of squirrels; mom, dad, brother, sister, and sister’s boyfriend, all scurrying violently to get out of my ass. Whew, I thought, good to get that out of the way. But that wasn’t it. 11:45 I was back in there, giving birth to the baby squirrels that the sister and boyfriend had procreated in my ass. God those things grow up pretty fast.

But the thing is, I didn’t have that much to eat on Sunday. You wouldn’t think three pieces of pizza and a couple of chicken wings would leave me giving birth to a family of squirrels and their grandkids less than 24 hours later. Even after watching and studying (I took notes) CSI for ten hours I couldn’t come up with an explanation for where all that shit came from. And trust me, it takes a lot to baffle this expert who’s completely full of shit.