Today I walked through a neighborhood where the monthly price of a studio apartment shares the number of this very year we live in.
As every luxury vehicle ever made passed by, I couldn’t help noticing the frowns on all the drivers. Then I heard a man singing.
Out of an alcove shuffled a homeless man, continuing his minstrel while dancing a mild jig.
Just as the smell hit me, I noticed his pants were loaded. Full on bombs away, with his pleasant demeanor there’s no way it was an accident.
I couldn’t help but envy him.
That is a special sort of pride to be able to sing just after completely soiling your pants.
I’ve never sung after taking a shit.
I wish I could say I’ve never trusted the wrong fart, but who hasn’t?
If you are sitting there with pristine pants saying you’ve never done so, then you are a liar or you need to consume more antioxidants.
Apparently, oxide is bad and you shit it out.
Also, I am no doctor.
Could you imagine shitting your pants as a doctor?
Like with someone in your office, learning that they require hemorrhoid surgery, and you just sauce your pants.
‘Sorry sir, too many antioxidants. I’ll have the nurse come take your blood pressure.’
The point here is, we all think we have shitty days but some are actually shitty, it’s all about perspective.
Next time you whine about the barista putting regular milk in your coffee, or the wrong dinner being delivered, just be thankful you didn’t recently empty your colon into your pantaloons.
But if you did, be sure to sing your way to the shower.
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