Boring?

Why just yesterday I was at the Home Depot economizing my time by gathering other needed supplies whilst my homeboy mixed me up a batch of eggshell cream colored paint, when I got that feeling (that frankly I'm getting to know too well) --the one where you know you got to take a dump, stop what you're doing, and get to it OR ELSE. So's I slid my cart over by the insulation aisle and took off for lumber where I knew the bathroom to be THANK GOD because I had asked on the way in because I had to take a pee. All the while, and really when you got to take this kind of dump time does seem to move too slow and couldn't go any faster, I'm cursing myself for buying that $1.75 slice of Chubby's pizza on the way over. The one I didn't need because I'd just had turkey meatballs at home but I bought anyway because I had a sudden pang of guilt whilst staring at the lonely Chubby's guy and realizing Chubby's didn't sell what I was really after which was a chocolate malt. I didn't need to eat it, I know, and I didn't need that sugar sludge Burger King calls a chocolate shake that I got after that and all of this was quite apparent as I made my way towards the Home Depot commode now by way of a timid jog (can't go too fast lest you're taking out by a rolling conduit and end up crapping yourself on the Depot floor surrounded by giggling day laborers). So's I'm praying I'm gonna make it and I'm praying the Home Depot bathroom is miraculously clean and I'm turtling when I open the door and see that somebody has wrapped the place in toilet paper. My experience tells me that this is not good, not only because the place is a mess but because all that tp on the ground is squandered wealth. I start kicking in stall doors, list, compile, choose. I really don't have time to put the toilet liner down but I do anyway at the risk of losing my underpants. Somehow that doesn't happen and I credit my expertise. By this point I know this will not be a reenactment of the Lawrence Fisheries Blow Out nor will it match (could it?) the Great Browning of our downstairs bathroom, last year's most memorable bathroom moment. The only thing getting the royal poop treatment tonight will be the inside of this poor Kohler. And let me tell you better it than me. Now. I was so relieved so empty so light as to be in a place none better that I almost told the cashier that I took a poop as if this would make her jealous or something. She probably wouldn't have guessed what painted my cheeks but I'm pretty sure she could tell that I was in heaven. Boring. I tell you.