Uncouth Jon

On Sunday night, Rajiv had us over for a BBQ / pool party.  It was a scorcher of a day.  It must have still been hovering around 100 F when we ate at 6pm.  Anyway, a couple pieces of tri-tip and a six pack of Fat Tire later, I was feeling great.  And by great, I mean I had a serious heat- and alcohol-induced buzz going on.

We rolled out of there at about 10pm.  Kelly was driving, of course, and she dropped our friend Heather off at her house before heading back to our place.  As we drove up to our house, we noticed this young man and a very attractive woman leaning against a car in front of our neighbor’s house, “going at it.”  (Turns out it was my neighbor’s brother.)  As soon as they noticed us pulling up, they separated and played it off like pros.  Yes, of course, they were just hanging out in the middle of the street at 10:30pm on a Sunday.  Who doesn’t?

Kelly pulls Yoda into the garage, shuts it off, and unlocks the doors.  For the life of me, I can’t remember why, but instead of going into the house through the door in the garage, we walked out of the garage and around to the front door.  In our absentmindedness, we forgot to leave the light on, so Kelly fumbled with the keys while trying to open the door.  Meanwhile, I’d just noticed the large amount of pressure that had accumulated in my colo-rectal area from the aforementioned BBQ Fun Fest.  And so, being of sound mind, I decided to relieve myself of this pressure in a most expeditious manner. 

“Ttttttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhppppppppppppppppttttttttttttttttttt,” said my sphincter.  It lasted far longer than I thought it should have.  I’d say it was a good 5 second outburst.

“Eeeeeeeewwwwwwwww!”, exclaimed my neighbor’s brother.

By that time, Kelly had succeeded in unlocking the front door.  Mortified that I was doubled over in laughter at what had just transpired, she got behind me and forcefully shoved me inside and quickly closed the door.  She was a good sport about it, but “Bloody awful!” is the phrase I have been hearing since then whenever I broach the subject. 

Lesson learned: Toilet humor works on so many levels.