It’s my body and I’ll poo how I want to

My ex-husband used to get SUPER irked when I camped out on the crapper, commonly known as “Me Time – Dude, Get Over It Already.” I almost always set up shop in there with a book or magazine to make the experience more pleasurable – or at least, reminiscent of waiting around the gate at SeaTac (i.e., uninterrupted, guilt-free reading time). I’m not particularly modest but I was forced to start locking the door because he’d occasionally attempt to literally scare the shit out of me by busting in, exclaiming, “I KNEW you were reading in there!!”, and snatching the book/magazine, resulting in a “DAMMITWHATTHEFUCK?!!” from me (a response that makes a very authoritative impression from the can with your pants around your ankles).

All in all, a very unsatisfying non-literary poo experience.

So it shouldn’t surprise you that he recently sent me this, from Dweebist, with the message, “You need this sign for your place.”

Hellz yeah.


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