** I need to preface this post with the disclaimer that my oldest daughter is thoroughly mortified that I would discuss this matter in such a public venue. If you are privileged enough to know Torri then please do not hold my utter vulgarity against her. You know, the sins of the father and all. Or in this case, the mother.**
I ruined a pair of slippers this morning.
How, you ask, might that have happened?
I stepped in poop.
You may be assuming that I stepped in poop as I ventured my slippered feet out onto the front lawn (or rock bed as we have here in Arizona) to retrieve the Sunday paper.
Nope.
I stepped in poop indoors.
And no, we don’t have pets.
Still not 100% sure where aforementioned poop came from, though based on the tracks it appears to have originated from the floor in Cassidy’s bathroom.
Poor thing isn’t familiar with the concept of a dingleberry, and it likely took her by as big a surprise as it did me.
Or Jeff rather.
Seeing as how he was the one who discovered the tracks.
This is one time I’m glad I was oblivious.
I have a weak stomach.
His has gotten remarkably stronger since having married into a ready-made family complete with a then unpotty-trained child.
The girls’ bouts with the flu helped toughen him right up too.
Ah. And then there was this once…
It’s sort of a long story but believe it or not it involves poop stuck to the ceiling.
I swear.
You can imagine the immense pleasure I got from that experience, seeing as how I enjoy torturing my family. The poop wasn’t mine. But still. Jeff gagged repeatedly. And when I’m privy to someone gagging, I am thoroughly tickled.
Especially when it’s Jeff. There really isn’t anything that can instantly send me into a fit of laughter like seeing him grossed out.
My preferable tools are ear wax, white things (slimy skin that peels from the inside of my lips), and tonsil stones.
Of course, unintentional poop incidents work too.
You’d think we live in a zoo, what with the random poop on various surfaces.
I actually keep a very tidy home.
I swear.
When I sat down to write this post this totally isn’t the direction I intended to take.
It’s been quite amusing to write though, so I hope you don’t mind the toilet talk just this once.
I’ll be back to cleaner topics tomorrow.
Unless you’re all dying to hear the ceiling poop story.
I suppose then I could be convinced.
{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
Ceiling Poop story! Ceiling Poop Story! Ceiling Poop Story!
How many times do I need to say it??? :-)
This was HYSTERICAL!
Not the part about your shoes being ruined though…the rest of it…the best!
Who wouldn’t love a good poop on the ceiling story?!?! Can you really ever get enough!??!
Ceiling Poop…Bring it on!
my theory is we all need a little poop or puke story every now and then, you know, to keep things real… as far as ceiling poop goes, however- i can’t imagine…
That’s what I love about you…you keep it real. I have a similar poop story involving my daughter, cousins and an attempt to eat it. Now that you’ve shared yours, maybe I can do the same. btw, I gave you an honest award over at my neck of the woods. Yup, this post is as honest as it gets. Thanks for keeping it real.
Yes, this story grossed me out as well…but it was entertaining.
And for the record, I’ve been in Darcie’s house and what she says it’s true…she keeps a tidy house. So tidy that when I was there I was in awe over the shine and cleanliness of her concrete flooring. It was so clean and beautiful, that I would eaten the delicious lunch she served me right off of it.
Only now, I’m so happy she gave me a plate! ;)
Thanks for keeping things real, Darcie!
I wish everyone else could see how much you chuckle to yourself everytime you think about this post. And I wish they could have heard you from 3 rooms away laughing out loud as you looked up the definition of dingleberry!
Oh, and I am also pushing for the Poop on the Ceiling story to be told…it is truly one of those stories that writes itself.
Obviously I’m dying to hear the ceiling poop story. I mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t want to hear that?!
And then you could write about the Christmas morning dog poop underneath the dining room table which you also thought was hilarious.
If you worked in a cattle feedlot you could giggle yourself silly.
Ha ha ha! That’s great! Nothing grosses out The Man. Although there was this one time, he went to grab something out of my dog’s mouth, and once he had his hand wrapped around it realized it was a half rotten dead bird. That grossed him out so badly that he had to take a shower. And I laughed. It was actually rather humorous. You know, since I wasn’t the one with a half rotten dead bird in my hand.
Fowl. Get it? Foul? Ha ha! I’m so funny.
OF COURSE we want to hear the story of poop on the CEILING…but there might be something wrong with me because lately that is ALL I have to write about…it’s kind of disconcerting!
Yep – want to hear the poop on the ceiling story!
Don’t even get me started on bringing a black light into the bathroom to identify all the places urine has ended up with 3 sons.
Darcie, I was inspired by your poop story….check out mine……http://gracecomesbyhearing.blogspot.com/2009/01/poop-story.html