the end result is volcanic diarrhea can’t be good right? We were in the Lloyd Center mall Monday night and I happened to catch the happy (?!) scent of the local Cinnabon wafting through the air.
“Hey me”, (I thought to myself (I mean, it would be really wierd if I was thinking this to someone else right? Like, why would I call them “me”? That would be bizarre. Plus, you’d think I’d do something much cooler with telepathic powers than think at other people about Cinnabon like they were me) “you haven’t had one of those things in like 4 months, and haven’t had any dessert at all in the last week or two, and you’ve actually been working out (running) for the last 2 weeks too – it’s O.K. – you can indulge!”
So, I do. And yes, ’twas tasty.
We were home about 8 minutes when the first round of reverse volcanic (exploding…DOWNward…) diarrhea hit. I was heading down to my computer, happily pondering whatever the fuck I ponder right before I sit down, blissfully unaware of the bathroom warzone looming ahead in my near future.
Needless to say, I was up those stairs like a dude running to the bathroom with explosive diarrhea. It was over fairly quickly, and it wasn’t incredibly painful but man, it was not pretty. I think it’s the worst diarrhea I’ve had in recorded memory. My intestines were like “Fuck stomach, I don’t care if you wanted to indulge, we are the ones that have to deal with this wierd brown-cinny-shit. We do NOT want that wierd funk hanging in here with our all-natural-also-brown shit – get the fuck out freeloading wierd cinnamon gravy brown shit!” And naturally my butt obliged, but providing a cheap (and speedy!) mode of egress for said unwanted passenger-gunk.
“Well,” I thought (again, to myself and not just at some random person – maybe some dude with a really unhealthy Furby obsession) “Self – you’d better not eat anymore of that shit, probably ever again.” And I was ok with that.
But evidently there were some left over cinna-surgents hanging out, perhaps in my colon. When they got mental word of my boycott (why it took them till midnight to get organized I’ll never know), they must have planned one last big bash.
Yes, I was woken up at midnight by a second round of reverse volcanic geyser diarrhea.
Thanks Cinnabon, you’ve got Mentos beat for freshmaking!
P.S. I’m sending a paper bag filled with the smell from my bathroom to your chief culinary expert in the hopes that it will guide him along the path to enlightenment.