Monday, October 8, 2007

Grown Men Don't Poop their Pants (and blog about it)

Ok, so I hinted about a month ago about telling the story of how I pooped my pants. A few people have requested it. So here it is. This is the story of how I shit my pants on a date and successfully cut my underwear off while walking down Broadway in New York City. Away we go.

Let me transport you too a chilly winter night in the early winter. Must have been about 1998. I am living in Connecticut and decide to take a girl I was dating into the city for a night on the town. We enjoy a nice dinner at Gramercy Tavern (strange how many details I remember from this night). We are walking to a play (Rent..UGH) and I innocently try to slip a fart past a turd. Well, I failed miserably and propelled a liquidy stream down my right leg.

Thank the good lord for my 3/4 length suede jacket, which mostly hides the damage. While it isn't too obvious to others, I still have issues to deal with. Great, now what? As panic start to step in, I coolly collect myself and begin to formulate a plan. I will use my Swiss Army Knife to cut my underwear off! BRILLIANT! But wait, the keys jingling are going to give me away. So before I set about this operation, I remove the knife from the key chain. I open it up, slide my hand down the side of Gap Khakis.

Over the course of several blocks and 15 minutes, all while maintaining a conversation on how great the meal was, how awesome Savage Garden and BackStreet Boys are (hey its 1998) I proceed to cut my FAVORITE BOXERS off. And no..despite discussing Backstreet and going to see Rent...I am not gay. So anyhow, I am making progress. It takes another block while I shake, wiggle and shimmy until I smoothly expel the soiled underpants out my pants let and onto the sidewalk in front of a Chinese takeout restaurant!
I look back longingly at my trusty (and dirty) friends, and briefly wonder if I should fess up just so I can rescue them from the feet that will surely trample them (Honey, did you step in dog poo?). Begrudgingly I forge ahead, all the while wondering if I will ever be able to replace them. Never once did my date figure it out. Believe it or not, I went on to marry this woman. Maybe this shitty date should have been a sign of things to come....but that's another story for another blog.

3 comments:

Brandi from Seattle said...

OMG! I like you more than ever now! That is the funniest story ever. My pants-pooping stories couldn't even come close to that one. Take Care.

NOTHING TO SEE HERE :O said...

lol its a great story, its so sweet to read that the lady is your wife now, arrrr :)

Have a great day!

Ben said...

That was hilarious Scott! I have my share of those types of stories, but nothing as daring and bold as that. It truly embodies the "living with Crohn's Disease" blog title. ;-) As you already found out it pushed me over the edge to start sharing my experiences as well. Thanks for the inspiration! Keep on living brother!
-Ben

Crohn's Disease Blog