Like any good story, this one begins with, “It is about my poop.”
https://twitter.com/_blotty/status/712126522937745408
On Monday night, @_blotty, or “misunderstood worm,” tweeted a hilarious saga about going on a date. But not just any date, mind you. This date was with some guy she met at the grocery store. Oh yeah, and she pooped in his toilet and couldn’t flush the evidence, and it only got worse from there.
The entire thing can be read here (can’t believe it took 10 years for someone to write, “We are sitting there on his couch and kissing and all I can think of is the piece of poop in my purse”), but in case the tweets are removed:
I have a story to tell. It is about my poop. So, yesterday I went on a date with a man who asked me out in the grocery store the other day. All was going well. I went back to his place. I am a confident, calm and self assured woman…so I felt comfortable pooping in his bathroom. This was a mistake. His toilet did not flush. Properly. So, of course, like any calm, confident, self assured woman. I panicked. And flushed it a million times, making everything worse. By this point, I was really frantic because I had been in there for too long. There was only one single piece of poop. So in that moment something came over me. And I knew exactly what I had to do. I got toilet paper and removed the one poop from the toilet. Once that was done I realized I didn’t have a plan. What do I do with it now? I can’t fucking leave it there. By this point I was REALLY freaking out because I’d DEFINITELY been in there too long. So, again, making another horrible decision. I did the only thing I could think to do. I wrapped it in multiple layers of toilet paper, and put it in my purse. Alright, so now what? We are sitting there on his couch and kissing and all I can think of is the piece of poop in my purse.
Him: you’re so beautiful. The moment you smiled at me,u had me
Me: that’s really sweet
Me in my head: I have a piece of my poo in my purseSo, after a few hours he used the washroom and I heard it flush. I figured he fixed it. Maybe not, but I have to take the chance. I have to try to flush the poop. So I brought my purse up to the washroom. Unwrapped the poop, prayed to every god I know, put it in and flushed. By the grace of God, it worked. The poo flushed. I was free. I was in the clear. Everything was going to be okay. I survived. I am a survivor. So that’s my story. A man, sat there telling me I’m the most amazing woman he’s ever met, not knowing, 10 feet away in my purse, was my poop that I’d fished out of his toilet… This is v embarrassing for me. But seriously: dont drink coffee before a date, its better to be sleepy than to have to hide poop in ur purse.
There’s also a text between sisters.
https://twitter.com/_blotty/status/712130072828907520
Talk about your sh*tty dates! *ducks from tomatoes*
But how did she get a copy of my high-school valedictorian speech?
(Via Twitter)