Forget Stacy Dumbass, here is to Paul Shithead!

So Paul read my blog yesterday and tears came streaming down his face as he remembered the incident of the dumbass.
When he got to the end, he thought it wasn't so funny after all, especially with the thought of payback at the end. I got a phone call and a begging whimpering to please not post what was so funny about him. Actually it was, "I will kill you."
Well, he really wouldn't kill me, although he does look good in orange.
But, as Ryan so eloquently said in his comment, payback is a bitch. And I am Paul's bitch so here goes:
Paul was out in the backyard when he informed me that he "thought he shit himself when he farted."
I couldn't laugh at that because I was nursing my head with an icebag and laughing means that the skin of my face will press upwards and the pressure it inserts onto my "goose egg" caused imbearable pain, so no smiling.
And for those of you who know Paul -- he is the smelliest, nastiest bastard ever when it comes to stench. So bad in fact, that they called him "Back Blast" for years in the Army. He could take down his entire unit with one Back Blast in formation. Since he was a team leader he always stood in front and proudly popped one off when the Captain was addressing the troops. Of course they wanted to duck and cover, but had to stay perfectly still in the lineup.
Anyway, back to the story. He came in and ran upstairs, closed the door to the boys bathroom. A minute later I heard a "Holy Shit" and then the fan flipped on. A minute or so later the door opened. I was downstairs when I got a whiff of stench. It was as if someone had died.
Paul didn't come downstairs and a couple of minutes later I started to worry about him. I had to put my shirt over my face and I ascended the stairs. My eyes started to water as I passed the open door of the bathroom. The water level on the toilet was even with the lid when I walked by and was hoping that it wouldn't runneth over!
Then I heard that the shower was on. So I went into our bathroom, where Paul was taking a shower. He had shit so hard he had soiled himself!
Now, that requires a giggle at least.
My kids came trooping through the front door moments later and asked, "what is that smell mommy?"
Everyone was absolutely petrified. What the hell had Paul eaten? Or drank for that matter to cause such a blast? We have no idea, but it was really bad.
He threw his clothes directly into the washing machine, because really, deep down he is a thoughtful person.
I am not though. So ha ha Pauly! Got you back. And by the way it is Saturday and I still have a swollen forehead!

Aug. 26, 2006