July 10, 2006

My Best Friend Pooped Her Bikini: A True Story and the Birth of a Nickname

Today, I am going to tell a story that will 1) probably make you pee yourself 2) you will re-tell to someone you only sorta know because you desperately wish it were your story and 3) will forever be my comeback to my best friends witty barbs. Why? Because today I'm telling you the story about how last weekend, she shit herself.

[See how I did that? Grabbed your attention right off the bat so I didn't lose you before you realized how awesome I was? I should really be a writer. I'm fucking unbelievably good at this.]

In the last two weeks my friend L. and I have been on a bender of brobdingnagian proportions.

[That last sentence is one of the many reasons I LOVE my little dictionary.com word of the day emails. I mean, who uses that word? Here's the definition:

Brobdingnagian \brob-ding-NAG-ee-uhn\: Of extraordinary size; gigantic; enormous. As in: "The venture capital business has a size problem. A monstrous, stupefying one. Brobdingnagian even." -- Russ Mitchell, "Too Much Ventured Nothing Gained", Fortune, Nov. 11, 2002]
Anyway, as I was saying: Following my horrific travel experience, I was in serious need of some social stimulus. I missed my friends! I was working my life away! I was feeling entirely too responsible!

So I did what any of you would do: called up my best friend and rallied her support in getting me back on the right (slightly buzzed) track. She was more than happy to help, in light of the fact that our ritual trip over the mountains to her cabin for the fourth of July was fast approaching.

I drove over on Friday after work and planned to take Monday off. During the 4-day vacation, we spent 4 days laying on the beach/in the water/on a raft/in a boat drinking tepid beer, absorbing harmful UV rays and getting sand in every crevice of our bodies. It was glorious.

Throughout the weekend, other friends came and went from the cabin. They came and went and a new crew would arrive just as the others left, giving L. and I the constant appearance of having just started partying (a minor PR miracle). This meant that while our company was always starting fresh, we were just layering party on top of party, starting at about 10 a.m. and wrapping up around 4 a.m. every night.

One fateful afternoon (don't ask me which one) we had a group of friends with us at the beach, along with along with an older couple. The older couple and their daughter, who is our age, were discussing with us a cool new pulled-behind-the-boat contraption called the kite tube.

In theory, this device, if pulled at remarkable speeds, hovers above the water at heights of 10 to 20 feet, in effect "flying" through the air behind the boat.

Now, while to me -- a person with a serious fear of heights, pain and embarassment -- this sounded awful, it sounded exhilerating to L. Luckily, I had an out: I had to walk back to the boat launch to meet one of our friends who was just arriving and so could not go with the group to ride the flying death-tube. So I left, and they piled in the boat and tore off. The next part of this story has been compiled from the re-tellings of those of my friends who were at the scene of the accident:

Apparently a couple of the guys tried to get the tube to fly, with varying degrees of success. But when L took off on the bat-tube, she caught a ton of air. Now I'm not sure if she got overexcited and did something to cause the tube to flip or if it just sorta happened, but the next thing everyone knows, she's out of the tube, lying in the water clutching her ass and fighting tears.

She gets in the boat, where she tells them to take her directly to the beach. Once there, her brother carries her from the boat to the shore. As he did, they had this exchange -- with L in tears:

L: "Neil, something's wrong."
Neil: "It's okay. What hurts?"
L: "No, seriously. It's my ass."
Neil: "Okay, what about it?"
L, horrified and fighting hysterics: "Neil, there's something coming out of my ass."
Neil, shuddering and nearly dropping her in an attempt to get as far as possible away from her ass: "WHAT?! Like, alive or dead? Jeez!!"
L: "I need to go to the hospital. NOW."

You see, L had gotten a water enema. These, for those of you who have never fallen while waterskiing, are very painful and sometimes (as in this case) cause bleeding, etc. And bleeding L was. But when she really freaked out was when she reached down to remove the fabric of her suit from her heinie-hole and felt something hard.

L is more of a hypochondriac than I. When she felt the hard something, she was convinced not only was she in pain, but she was dying. In fact, once on the beach, she ran up to one of the mom-types there and explained to them, in a panic, that she believed she had shat out a vertebra and was possibly not going to make it to the hospital alive.

[Nevermind the fact that in order to shit a vertebra, it has to break off your spine (which would paralyze you) and puncture your intestine (causing internal bleeding) and then travel through your intestine and out your sphincter. She really really thought she pooped a vertebra. Logical, huh?]

Mom type, trying not to laugh: "Honey, it might just be a bowel movement. Why don't you go check it out?"

So she did. And when she returned, she was still hobbling and holding herself, but she was also a bit bashful.

All concerned observers on the beach: "Well?"
L, bashfully: "Well, um... I just pooped my pants. So, yeah."

A half hour or so later, I returned from my trek to the beach and was surprised to find L (and a few of our other friends) back. I addressed the group, asking how it went. Immediately, L's little brother chimed in:

Neil: "Guess what L did?"
Me: "Um, what?"
All (including the older couple and 4-5 strangers on the beach: "SHIT HER PANTS!!!"

I was shocked. I grinned and gasped for air, waiting for the story, and while I collected myself enough to ask what in the hell that meant, L hobbled up to me, clutching her rear end, hysterically laughing out of embarrassment, drunkenness, and likely shock, and shrieked "And the turd was the size of a chicken nugget!!"

Can you say insta-nickname?

Yep. Now good ol' L goes by Nugget (or The Nugg for short). And no matter what she says about what I do from now on, I have a watertight, built-in comeback (which I've already worn out) that goes a little bit like "Well, at least I didn't shit my pants!"

I love my life. And I also love Nugget, for having a brilliant sense of humor about the whole thing.

The rest of the weekend consisted of more sun, sand, and servesas. But after the "incident" it was also peppered with potty humor which was admittedly terrible, but in light of the fact that someone actually pooped in her bikini, much funnier than it should have been.

Friend 1: "Let's go cliffjumping!"
Friend 2: "I would, but you know how that scares the shit out of Nugget..."

Friend 1: "I was thinking of maybe having a water -- will you pass me one?"
Friend 2: "Nah, Nuge poo-poo'ed that idea."

Friend 1: "I'm hungry. Anyone up for some chicken?"

Nugget: "Want another beer while I'm up?"
Friend: "Well, that DEPENDS!"

Friend 3: "Hey Nugget!"
Nugget: "What?"
Friend 3: "Remember that time you shit yourself? That was awesome!"

And so on.


It was a weekend not to be forgotten. A secondary story involves me learning that I apparently have a natural ability to play beer pong (which I never had before last weekend), but it pales in comparison to the poo story, so we'll just leave it at the fact that I'm pathetic, having played beer pong for the first time at 25 and being proud of my skill.

If anyone knows a nice man who can marry me now, while I'm still in good shape and before this gets ugly, please email me. It's getting scary how quickly I've regressed. Pretty soon I'll be at keggers smoking Swisher Sweets, making out with 18 year old boys and calling my parents for rides. ::shudder::

More on the Legwarmers Binge-Fest 2006 to come... Happy Monday!


Ben said...

1. First of all, I think that is the funniest defecating story that I have ever heard in my life. Not that I have a whole litany of defecating stories to fall back on, but yours takes the cake.

2. You are right, I do wish that this was my story. Not to say that I would ever wish one of my best friends to end up in hilarious fashion, flying through the air, smashing into the water, while at the same time shitting their pants. If it were to happen though, that would be great!

3. For some reason any time get on the internet I have to go to dictionary.com to check the world of the day. It is a strange obsession. I am even considering starting a blog to be able to use some of the words I find there. It is just hard to use words like mountebank (today's work of the day) in everyday conversation.

4. Last but not least, beer pong is one of the great drinking games of all time. And though being proud of one's beer pong skills well into your mid twenties may seem juvenile to some, I kick ass at beer pong.



Trebuchet said...

Cheers to a guy who clearly has his priorities in order!

Bottoms (heh heh) up!!!

jali said...

I want to hang out with you guys!

The story will be passed on. It will become the stuff of legend. There will someday be a Snopes listing with a little green light thing verifying the truth of the story.

Aw man, I don't even know her, but I have nicknames:

Shitty Shitty Bang Bang (there's a song - Hee-Hee)

Dookie Girl (you have to imagine the superhero cape and all)

Doo-Doo Brown (her new theme song)

Trebuchet said...

I want you to hang out with us! The more the merrier -- and that way there are more people to point at and say "see?! she's doing it, too!".

And "Shitty Shitty Bang Bang"? Classic. Many thanks for that. I'll try it out this weekend, which will be spent, again, at the cabin.


Chuckles said...

I spent a weekend at the beach and the worst thing that happened was that I got stung by jelly fish.

The best thing that happened was witnessing a double wardrobe malfunction by a woman at the next umbrella over.


Winnie the Pooh?

"What do you think of this bikini?"
"I dunno. I think the design is kind of shitty."

Trebuchet said...

Yes!! Or "Grand Poo-bah" or "Number 2"...

I like this game.

ShadowAngel said...

OMG that is one of the wildest stories I've ever heard!!! I'm going to have to pass it on through my blog.

You might not know, but those kite raft things have already been pulled off the market because of the number of serious injuries (and a couple deaths, I believe) caused by them - this report coming a few days ago from my hubby who works in consumer product testing. I wouldn't get on one of those things at all.

Anonymous said...