Mad Dash of Shame
There comes a time in every mature adults life where they must endure some single catastrophic event that ultimately humbles them enough to remind them that no matter how bad things can get that they could definitely be worse…a whole lot worse.
And I had just such a near tragic epiphany only yesterday. Yes, if you really want to take yourself down a notch and remind yourself how quickly things can spiral out of control simply try shitting yourself; because nothing says “I’m not in control of my environment” like a grown man standing on his front porch with his pants full of crap.
I must have done some really bad things in my past for fate to suddenly turn around and deliver such a lethal kidney shot to my already damaged ego.
And here I thought things had been going pretty well. I’m still working out and training hard, I’m eating healthily and I’m trying to look after myself. So how then did I end up sprinting down the middle of my street with my butt cheeks clenched tight to prevent the fecal matter from dripping down my pant leg?
If I knew that healthy living was going to come at the risk of spontaneously shitting yourself in mid-dash for your apartment complex then I might have reconsidered that gym membership. Likewise, I might have to ease up on the vegetable salads and bean dips in the future.
I suppose the glass-is-half-full attitude is that because I’ve now become accustomed to running in the evenings I can honestly say that the whole incident could have turned out worse had my mad dash to the front door been any slower. It could have escalated into a total Orange Alert situation instead of the minor toxic leak it was.
Who knew that the “Mechanics of Running” workshop I’ve been attending on Tuesday nights would prove so handy?
And I had just such a near tragic epiphany only yesterday. Yes, if you really want to take yourself down a notch and remind yourself how quickly things can spiral out of control simply try shitting yourself; because nothing says “I’m not in control of my environment” like a grown man standing on his front porch with his pants full of crap.
I must have done some really bad things in my past for fate to suddenly turn around and deliver such a lethal kidney shot to my already damaged ego.
And here I thought things had been going pretty well. I’m still working out and training hard, I’m eating healthily and I’m trying to look after myself. So how then did I end up sprinting down the middle of my street with my butt cheeks clenched tight to prevent the fecal matter from dripping down my pant leg?
If I knew that healthy living was going to come at the risk of spontaneously shitting yourself in mid-dash for your apartment complex then I might have reconsidered that gym membership. Likewise, I might have to ease up on the vegetable salads and bean dips in the future.
I suppose the glass-is-half-full attitude is that because I’ve now become accustomed to running in the evenings I can honestly say that the whole incident could have turned out worse had my mad dash to the front door been any slower. It could have escalated into a total Orange Alert situation instead of the minor toxic leak it was.
Who knew that the “Mechanics of Running” workshop I’ve been attending on Tuesday nights would prove so handy?
posted by crazytigerrabbitman at
7:07 AM
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