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Strove to find a way to punch people in the face by using the Internet.

8/30/2004

DIARY OF INDIGNITIES
Special Guest Indignities – An E-mail Chat with Todd
Ah, Todd. Father, husband, gourmand, raconteur... Pillar of the community. Todd's been one of my very best friends for more than a decade. Well, except for that one year he didn't talk to me after I banged his head into a wall a few times at a party... I had my reasons. Anyway, let's have a round of applause to welcome our special guest this week.

I was going to ask you about your biggest indignity, figuring it was the time you shit your pants in the video store, but I seem to remember you weren’t particularly embarrassed by that. Is this correct?

Oh, I was pretty fuckin' embarrassed alright. But since it was just me and Scott Adams, and he was my roommate at the time, I knew I could trust him to help me through the shitstorm. I had to ride all the way back home sitting on a plastic Publix bag so I wouldn't leak my bowel chowder onto his car. It's all funny to think about it now, and I'm pretty sure that Scott thought it was damn funny then, too. I think the funniest part is that despite my hellacious bout that week with a bona-fide, doctor-diagnosed intestinal virus, I just couldn't miss the big closeout sale for all those beat-up, old, used video tapes that I'm now fighting to get rid of on eBay. I hate them.

Did you turd it up and keep looking, or were you on your way out the door? Did you drip? Did anyone notice?

I was sizing up my haul just about ready to go, actually. (Man, you can really take that sentence in two ways when you think about it.) I had a stack of about 10 video tapes in my arms and I thought, "Well, one tiny little innocent fart couldn't hurt now, could it?" It could. And did. A burning hot deluge of butt soup shot out of my ass and went halfway down my right leg. Fuuuuuck. I went, "Pssst, pssst" to Scott and whispered to him, "Hey, remember what happened to Scott Huegel at the Spoke warehouse? Well, it just happened to me right now. Only worse."

Scott immediately recalled the Huegel incident, which as legend has it is as follows: Once, in mid-song during an intense, emo-filled practice by his band Spoke, Huegel let out what he also thought was an innocent little bottom burp that resulted in a single round turd rolling out of his shorts and onto the warehouse floor. The whole band stopped to a silence, and Jon Resh exclaimed, "What's that brother?" To which Huegel replied, "Dude! It's my shit." And walked off in humiliation. Now, whether or not it all happened exactly like that, I'm not sure. But I like to believe that it did.

Anyways, Scott agreed that we had to get the fuck outta there ASAP, so I cautiously walked up to the line to pay, trying to keep the mess all up in my ass region as best I could. When I got to the front of the line after what seemed like a year, I quickly paid for my stupid video tapes. I distinctly remember the clerk making a funny face as he must've gotten a whiff of the thunder from down under.

I managed to scoot out to Scott's car and that's when he wisely offered me the Publix bag to sit on. God bless him. When we got home, I shut myself in the bathroom for a half hour and cleaned myself up. I threw my jeans away. Anyone wanna buy some video tapes?

How does one "keep the mess all up" in one’s "ass region" anyway? And it didn't drip at all?

I just kinda got all clenched up and waddled when I walked. Thankfully, my jeans were very absorbent.

What videos did you get? Was it worth it?

Let's see: The Killer, Slam Dance, Gigantor, 8th Man, Re-Animator, Three O'Clock High and Inframan. I can't remember the other two. But yeah, at the time it was definitely worth it. Video tapes were cool, man.

Oh, I'd totally shit my pants for Three O'Clock High. So how does this stack against all the other indignities you've suffered in life? Anywhere near the top?

It's definitely up there, just because of the comedy factor. I've done a lot of other stupid things in my life that weren’t really funny, and don't make for a good story. Only a good ass beating.

What's the dumbest thing you've ever seen me do?

Damn, aside from you deliberately smashing flower pots on your forehead, that's a hard one. Anything really stupid would've most likely occurred while we were extremely loaded, so I don't remember. Most of 'em happened before I met you, as per your indignities of yore. I really can't think of any. Honest.

There were a couple times when you stupidly listened to me when you shouldn't have, like that one late winter night when I left that note for you on my front door in a drunken stupor, insisting that you stay in Scott's bed instead of going home. You thought something bad happened to me, so you stayed, and didn't plug in the electric blanket before you passed out. I came home the next morning and found you all wrapped like a cocoon in Scott's bed, shivering to death, eyes all bloodshot and hungover as hell, and ready to ring my fuckin' neck. You were like, "Well, what the fuck happened to you last night?" And I said something like, "Dude, I slept with that retarded Angela girl." The look on your face was terrifying. You shouted, "That's it?! That's why you made me stay here?! I thought something bad happened to you. Come here. I'm gonna fuckin' choke you. Come here." Or something like that. Anyways, you were pissed.

Angela? Are you talking about that teenage runaway girl who talked all fucked up after her tongue got infected when she let the piercer use a stud he had dropped on the floor?

Yeah, that was her. Bleh.

She was a catch, a delightful flower. But I don't understand the connection between sleeping with her and it being so important that I crash at your place.

I walked home from the club with her and her flask of whiskey, and by the time I made it home I was out of my head. But I vaguely remembered telling you that you could crash at our place if you couldn't find a ride home. I was sitting there makin' out with her, and then she suggested we go to her place to drink more, which sounded like a brilliant idea at the time. So we went, and I left you that note on the door saying to go inside and sleep in Scott's bed. For some reason, I made it sound really serious and important.

Well, it turns out that you ended up getting a ride to my house, and whoever was giving you the ride said that if I wasn't home then they would just take you to your house. When you got to my place and saw the note, you told them to go cause you thought you'd better stay and find out what was going on. That's why you were all pissed the next morning. Man, you were scary looking, and ready to kill me.

I was so, so cold. It was 20 fuckin' degrees, and I had an electric blanket that I was too drunk to figure out how to turn on. I'm surprised I survived.

Another thing I always found funny was when every time Scott and I came into your record store with some new Taco Bell treat for lunch, you always insisted on trying some, and always with the same results. You would take a bite, make this horrible grimace and yell, "This is fuckin' terrible!!! It tastes like chlorine!!!" Every time. No matter what it was, the new Mega Gordita Supremeo or Beef Huasipungo or Chicken Spanakorso or whatever, you always got all disgusted and shit and said that it tasted like chlorine. That still makes me laugh just thinking about it.

Chlorine? Ugh. I think Pedro was spunkin' up your burrito.

"Spunkin' Up Your Burrito" is my favorite Primus song.

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