Interesting title for a blog, right? Well trust me it has quite the story behind it. I worked for owens corning basement systems for a little over a year as a canvasser, basically I went door to door signing people up for free estimates to finish their basements in the metro Detroit area. During this time period I had my diabetic medications changed, and it wreaked havoc on my life. My dosage of metformin was changed to a higher dose, causing me to have severe diarrhea.
My manager dropped me off in neighborhood that was in the process of being built. A few homes had people living there but for the most part the homes were still being built. I went door to door like normal and got quite a few people signed up for estimates. All of a sudden I got this horrible cramping feeling and knew I was in a lot of trouble if I didn't find a bathroom soon, and by soon I meant immediately. I started looking around like a crazy person for a bathroom. When I was unable to locate one in the immediate vicinity, I panicked and called my manager to come pick me up. I called and got some extremely unfortunate news; he was well over a half an hour away. My colon was not going to wait that long, so I started searching for other options. Option number one was taking a crap in the street, not a valid option. Option number two was to knock on a door and hope they would let me use the bathroom; normally this would not be an issue but the only house I could possibly get to was the model house. Then inspiration stuck me, if it was a model home it had to have a functional toilet right? One issue, have you ever tried to get into a model home without a realtor? My guess is you haven't ever attempted that. The doors are always locked with one of those keypad things that hold the key. I had no idea what the code was so I tried the garage door and like magic I found I could pull it up without too much effort. So I went in through the garage door and put it back down quickly while hoping all the while that no one had witnessed my breaking and entering incident.
I opened the door from the garage that lead into the house, and went to work finding a bathroom. I found the bathroom quickly and was super excited until I realized the toilet didn't exist. I mean seriously, who doesn't furnish a bathroom with a toilet. It was so disappointing. So here I am in a home that I committed a crime to get into and there isn't even a damn toilet. Plotting my next move, I remembered there was a large cardboard box in the garage. I don't think I have ever squeezed my butt cheeks together so hard in my life as I waddled like a penguin out to the garage. My butt was burning by this point and the only thing I kept thinking was I had to keep it in until I could get to that cardboard box. Once I reached that box things happened so quickly from there. I pulled down my pants and took the most gratifying crap ever. Then I realized I had another serious problem I hadn't thought about, toilet paper. Thank god I had my contact papers for the people who had signed up for estimates, so I used some blank ones to wipe my butt with and left them in the cardboard box I had almost completely filled with poop. Using regular copy paper as toilet paper provides it's own unique challenges, the main one being wiping well while not giving yourself a giant paper cut on your butt. I definitely did not succeed in this endeavor, I had quite a few paper cuts on my bum and let me tell you it's not a pleasant feeling. So not only was my pride injured, my butt was bleeding and burning at the same time from the paper cuts. Moral of the story is if you must poop in a cardboard box, make sure you have toilet paper or suffer the humilation of paper cuts on your anus.
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