This Target has a great candy section.
Speaking of candy, I once crapped my pants in 7th grade.
Why do I feel the need to share this? One, it's my 300th Yelp, and I figured since you know the intricate details of my eating life, you might as well know the details of the other end of that equation. Two, it's funny, and those of you that know me, know that I won't let a little embarrassment stand in the way of a good laugh. And three, everyone has a poop story. And if you say you don't, you are a liar.
It was during an away game for our flag football team.
So you really need to visualize a chubby little Archie wearing a slightly tight grey Jr. high t-shirt and even tighter red shorts (who knew that tightness would come in so handy later that day) with the little yellow flags hanging off the sides.
We arrive at the school we are playing against and it's at this point my previously dormant tummy starts churning it's magma.
Sensing impending trouble, and not wanting to drop a load on the quarterback, I ran for the bathrooms on campus.
The school was kind of in the "hood" so all the buildings had giant fences, cages, and barbed wire around them. Apparently the school believes that in order to keep their kids away from trouble, it's best to lock the bathrooms down like Fort Knox at the end of each day. You know, cause in 7th grade, that's where I went to score my smack.
Bathrooms closed, none in sight, and no bushes big enough to contain what is looming just beneath my always adorable love handles, I realize I am in a pickle.
I tell coach that I gotta sit this one out cause I "feel sick."
True to my luck that day, both the 7th and 8th grade games went into overtime.
Having survived thus far, I just have to make it back to school and I will be ok.
Luckily for me, each of us had our own bus seat because of the number of people on the team.
Luckily for me, all the windows were opened.
Luckily for me, it was a really stinky diesel bus.
With about 20 minutes to go, I reach critical mass. I decide that it's in everyone's best interest, to relieve some of the pressure. Oh who am I kidding, it was in MY best interest. Without going into gory details, let's just say that I made a small deposit to the bank of tighty whitey.
One would think that this small pressure release would provide some relief. Not so. Apparently the communications link between my stomach, ass, and brain was down.
Because while brain said "stop," stomach and ass said, "let's do this."
Up until now, my tighty whiteys and my super awesome red shorts are doing a fabulous job of containment. And thanks to overactive teenage sweat glands and the rampant mis-use of deodorant, the smell was nonexistent, or at least heavily masked.
We then pull up to school and I am feeling confident that I am going to escape this one without everyone knowing. I decide to wait it out until everyone is off the bus. Everyone gets off, and of course, the one kid that was behind me, just won't let it go.
"Cmon man, let's go."
You go without me, I am, um, looking at something.
"What? Cmon, let's go dude, get up."
Shit. Ok.
So I get up, and the guy then yells, out loud, "damn, smells like someone crapped their pants!!"
I turn around, look at him, and ask, what do you mean?
Then he said, "these buses always smell like crap."
I nodded my head, turned around, and kept walking.
Then he yells, "dude! Why are your shorts all wet?"
Now, at this point, one would assume that any monkey with an IQ over, say, 3, would put 2 and 2 together to realize that I, indeed, crapped my pants. Luckily for me, this guy wasn't winning any academic competitions in the near future.
I turn around, look him square in the eyes, knowing full well we are in the middle of a drought, and say, "I sat in a puddle on accident."
He looks back at me, and says, "sucks."
While fate had dealt me a bum hand, it also bailed me out by making the only potential witness a complete moron.
And that is my poop story.
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