There’s something wrong with my bowels. I know you don’t care, and you’d rather not hear about someone else’s hiney issues, but I don’t give a shit (hah!) because my arse is in trouble.
Ever since my bout with explosive diarrhea the other night, my innards have been churning and gurgling like an excretory geyser. I’m still at work right now because I’m afraid to get up out of my chair. If I get up, there will be a shift in musculature down there, and who knows if the sphincter will hold.
If my boss comes in tomorrow and finds I’ve engaged in unauthorized redecorating (who chose this color of… is it brown?!), he might become… displeased with me. If that happens, I might have to reassume some of the unpleasant tasks I’ve parceled out to my lowly minions to prove my dedication and loyalty. Any more crap (hah! again!) on my already full plate would seriously cut into my interneck time. If I can’t play on the net, what’s the fucking point of coming to the
orifice office?! My job could actually turn in to WORK! This is all YOUR fault! I hate you, anus!
Gross, I know. But I had to tell
Also, my lips are chapped.