I’ve gotta pee. I’ll be right back.
Ok, I’m back. I had two iced teas for lunch and I’ve been sitting at my desk thinking I should go and relieve myself for like an hour. I’m worried that all this pee-holding-in is going to make me an incontinent old person. Keep your fingers crossed that that doesn’t happen. I’m not sure adult diapers will fit in my designer jeans.
Anyway, lots has gone on here in since we last spoke. The Somali pirates decided to give up Capt. Phillips in exchange for a sweet book and movie deal, I got mistaken for a “real person” by someone from the FOX News team and I ate an entire tub of hummus in one sitting. Mostly what has gone on though is that my friends have stopped talking to me because I wrote about my b-hole. I understand that bodily functions are a sensitive topic, but they’re nothing to be embarrassed about. Like the book says, everybody poops. I think that there are way more embarrassing things, like having to tell your spouse you got busted for kiddie porn and you’re gonna be spending the next decade in the klink. Or like admitting to an employer that you once starred on the reality TV show “Temptation Island” and cheated on your sweetie of many years with one of the other contestants just because the producers wanted to “spice things up a bit.” Or like being Lauren Ober. What I’m saying is, don’t judge people for things they can’t control. Like their bowels.