It’s official. I mean there’s just no other explanation. There just isn’t. I’ll tell you why and then I also need your opinion on something. Like I’m seriously going to tally your votes and make my decision based on them because Jenny and Rambo and I can’t come to a unanimous decision.
First – back to being cursed. Remember how thee #1 things in life that I abhor and despise start with the letter P? Mainly poop.
It haunts me people. I’m not kidding. Ever since I declared it publicly here that even the P word makes me gag – it has seemed to consume my life.
If it’s not prison stories about P words – then it’s things in my own life or the f*cking neighbor kids wadding up ½ a roll of toilet paper and clogging MY toilet.
Mkay. Soooo – I was on the back deck watching the kids in the pool and I decided to go in to get a drink. I walked in and THE SECOND I stepped foot in my newly cleaned house I gasped. Not in a good way.
Then I threw up a little in my mouth and covered my nose. Shit. No – I mean literally. Somewhere in my house there was shit. And from the smells of it – it had to be a pile. Or there’s a turd in every damn corner perhaps. The smell is that bad.
I’m standing in the dining room – half a damn block from our bathroom so to smell it from where I was meant most likely whatever shit I was smelling was NOT in its rightful place. (aka - the toilet)
I nearly passed out.
I started to look everywhere. In the dining room, kitchen and living room. For a pile of shit. I’m thinking maybe one of our cats did it though they’ve never done that ever. There’s a first time for everything right?
I see nothing. The smell is worse. Understand people that my ENTIRE house reeks. BADLY.
I start mumbling under my breath – blaming Rambo. Only a man’s ass could do such a thing if the cat didn’t, you know? I then start down the hallway and see Watermelon in her room.
I scream a little too loudly, “WATERMELON – WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL???”
She says, “I know Mom. I think it’s coming from the bathroom.”
What? How can that be? How can my whole house smell like someone mopped my every floor with a poop sponge if the smell is from the bathroom? 3 and 4 rooms away people – I was gagging. One foot in the house and I was covering my nose.
What the hell is in that bathroom?
I felt like I was in a horror movie. I opened the bathroom door – pretty much thinking that some boogey man holding a scalpel would have been more fun than finding what was really in there.
I walked slowly to the toilet and peeked into it.
AND RAN AWAY. While literally screaming OMG OMG OMG and running into Watermelon’s room.
“What the hell Mom? What is it?”
“Well – there’s a turd the size of a small dog in our toilet. I saw it and ran. I can’t go back in there.”
Now I know you all think I’m acting like a 2 year old. But the thing is – MY KIDS FLUSH. And my kids can not and have not ever smelled up an entire house. Ever.
So not only is the situation bad but what makes it unbearable is that the shit we’re dealing with isn’t related to me. It’s from someone else’s kid!
The same f*cking one that clogged my toilet last week.
I can’t take this. I just can’t.
You can bet your ass I went and found Rambo. He was outside and I told him to come inside right away. I told him what happened and told him I was afraid it wouldn’t go down and then it’d be clogged and the whole thing would be worse so I just ran.
He went in the bathroom (I was scared I’d never see him again) and came out later and said, “I took care of it.”
And then he said, “I’m going outside to tell that kid that she needs to learn how to flush. I’m surprised she’s still alive after something that big came out of her. Jesus.”
I said, “OMG – you are not going to yell at her about poop in front of the other 6 kids out there AND her mother. I’ll take her aside later and discuss the poop and the toilet paper with her.”
For the record, there was no way in hell I was ever going to talk over this incident with the culprit. Ever. People – this kid gives me the heebie geebies without ever discussing poop and toilet paper with her. I cannot have a conversation one on one with her about such things. Hives will close off my throat and I’ll suffocate and my death will be poop related and the world will end.
Can you imagine? Why should I have to tell anyone’s kids about the rules of pooping and toilet paper? JESUS. It’s just not right. I told Rambo that I’m just simply going to tell her she cannot use the toilet in my house. It’s broken. End of story.
Never in all my life people. NEVER ever did I think a child that is 7 years old and 4 feet tall could smell up my entire house. I kid you not – I had to spray every room with Febreeze.
I just can’t get over it.
What does this kid do at school? Doesn’t she pee or poop in her own damn house? Why mine? I don’t even like her – can’t she freaking tell?
OMG – it’s a miracle I’m alive. It was traumatic. Like unbelievably. Traw. Mat. Ick.
Let’s move on and get to this vote I need. I need your opinions on something much less gruesome but just about as icky.
Right before I met Jenny – I *thought* I had a best friend. I was veeeeeeery wrong. I was vulnerable and desperate for a best friend and I dove headfirst into a relationship that was the definition of cray-cray. The woman is a compulsive liar. And honestly, until Jenny pointed it out – I was so wrapped up in “finally” having a best friend – that I refused to see that this woman was certifiable.
Once I saw it though – I saw it….and I cut off contact with her one day with no explanation to her whatsoever. She was too crazy to have understood anyway. I mean we’re talking lying about divorces, ex-husbands, careers, abuse, kids, government clearances, knowing celebrities, being broke, being rich to having the same weight and surgeries that I did. God I was so gullible.
That was over 3 years ago. Last week I got an email from her. She misses me and wants to reconnect.
Jenny says she’s unsure what I should do. Email or not. And Rambo says the same thing. That it’s completely my call and neither decision is wrong or right. I don’t think she’s evil – she’s just completely messed up – but I don’t wish her any ill will or sadness. I genuinely hope she is happy.
But now that I know what real friendship is and what not crazy looks and feels like – reaching back into that scares me. Every time I almost hit reply to her email – my stomach felt sick. But part of me wonders if she’s changed or fixed herself or if she’s figured out how to find happiness. Even so – I don’t want her to know anything about me or my life. Not a single thing…so if I contact her I won’t be “sharing” info, that’s for sure.
I just don’t know. And I'm pretty sure I just don't care either.
So what would you guys do? Nothing? Or email and offer my wish that she is happy and pray she’s no longer crazy? I can’t be who I used to be to her. I have no desire to be.
Ugh. Ghosts from the past are annoying little things, aren’t they?
Not as annoying as neighbor kids with bowel movements the size of The Hulk’s right leg though.