Okay, so all this week I’ve regaled you with stories about my sister. She’s getting married tomorrow, so I thought it’d be fun to let you get to know her a little better. I don’t know if she feels this way, but that’s alright. That’s just how things go. Smile with tongue out

Today I thought I’d give Sister a break, and let you know a story about her fiancé. Please, don’t eat while reading this, or think of reading soon afterward. If you are easily queazed, don’t read this. You have been warned.

It was the first time he stayed overnight at our parents’ house. We’d gone to a local bar to have their really good pizza. I loooove their pizza, but it costs a lot [to a poor college student, anyway. And to a poor college graduate.] so we only get it on special occasions. This was a special occasion. Sister and I were on a double date, she with BiL [BiL = Brother-in-Law. I’m going to call him that, since for the last year or so I’ve felt like he was a brother to me, but it would be kind of confusing {and would seem a little incestuous} to refer to him as Brother. So BiL it is!] and I was with my [at the time] boyfriend. Sister, BiL, and I loved the pizza, and probably ate too much. My [at the time] boyfriend didn’t like the pizza because it was made with real cheese and was fresh [and I mean fresh] from the oven, so if you ate it with your hands, not only would you burn yourself, the toppings would all fall off. It’s a signature of a good pizza, in my mind.

For some odd reason, whenever BiL eats pizza and is nervous, it doesn’t go well for him. He had a rough night that first night at our house.

I want to explain something before I go farther in my story. [Or is it further? Gah, English sucks. Farther is a distance like “far”, further is … furry? Meh. It might feel like I’m going farther, because this story is so long. Mainly because of my ramblings {I really need to work on that.}] BiL was sleeping in the living room on a cot, while Sister and I were upstairs in our respective bedrooms. My parents were in their room, and my [at the time] boyfriend was at his parents’ house. [It doesn’t really matter where he was. This story’s not about him.] My parents’ house has three bathrooms: one upstairs, the master, and a hall bathroom.

BiL spent most of the night being ill in the bathroom. Horribly ill, from [sorry to be a bit crass here, but I don’t know how else to say it] from both ends. He had to make a decision: which would he rather clean? [I really hope you aren’t eating while reading this.] So he chose to sit on the toilet, and … well … I hope you get the idea.

The next morning, he heard Mom and me whispering to each other about a horrible smell. He groggily said to us, feeling so embarrassed and awful I’m sure, “I’m sorry; it was me.”

Mom and I looked at him with disbelief.

“You pooped in the basement?” we asked him.

This confused him immensely. He was probably thinking, “Was I that out of it that I didn’t notice that I had gone into the basement?”

All that had happened was that Mei Mei [one of my dogs] had decided that, instead of waking someone up and letting them know that she had to go out, she’d just potty in the basement. [This was before I started kenneling them at night. Potty issues are the reason I decided to. Both her and Buddy Boy had issues. Not important right now, though.] And it was stinky. Mom and I didn’t even know BiL had been ill. [Nice rhyme.] It was a nice way of getting to know each other, I must say.

So glad he’s joining the family! [Really, I am. Don’t take that sentence sarcastically. Don’t take these ones sarcastically either. I’m serious.] I like getting to tease him about the time he pooped in the basement. Smile with tongue out

Advertisements

About kayquie

I'm random, quirky, just a touch sarcastic, and a geek. I make crocheted animals/creatures/monsters, mostly of my own design. I don't really know what else to put here. I'll probably write more about myself in the blog. This is like a relationship: you can't get to know everything about me in just one sitting! :P

Comments are closed.