Don't get me wrong, I had fun this week in SLC. The title of this post is to be taken literally.
It's about poop.
|not completely related, but funny|
I was blocked up pretty bad. To the point where I was in a little pain.
I had never been in a position to have to buy a laxative before, so this is new territory for me. Luckily I'm near a Target, so I run over to get something to help.
Soooooo many choices...
I still haven't picked up dinner, so I'm reading the instructions at a red light.
"Take 1-2 pieces as needed, or daily for regular use."
I open the box.
It only has two bars in it.
What kind of a laxative box only comes with two pieces in it? (look at the picture. See '24?' I didn't...)
So I unwrap a bar, shove it in my mouth, and chew on the nastiest piece of chocolate I've ever had. "Wow, that's a lot of chocolate for just one dose" I think as I swallow...
After I park, I think about it some more. I look at the front of the box, and see '24.' I take out the other bar, and notice it has 12 little grooved pieces you're supposed to break apart.
I just had 12... and you're only supposed to have 1-2 at a time...
Oh crap. Literally.
I pick up dinner, sweating a little. This is going to be a bad night. Worried, I go back to the hotel, eat dinner, and wait.
Watch some TV, nothing.
Get tired, and go to bed... nothing...
Maybe it was a false alarm? Maybe I'll be ok?
And I was.
....until about 2am...