Yesterday, one of my best friends in the world sent me a series of text messages that brought me to my knees. I was doubled over in my kitchen, with tears streaming down my face from laughter. I’m pretty sure she was crying too, only she wasn’t laughing.
You know how sometimes you think you are having a bad day, then you talk to somebody else who is having a REALLY bad day and you are all, “Thank you JESUS for my life just like it is!!”
Not for the weak of stomach.
Here’s Lori’s story as it unfolded via text…
Lori: Um hypothetical possible emergency… Have any of your girls ever eaten their own S***? Not a lot, just a little? Did u call poison control? Asking for a friend…
Me: LOL. No and No.
Me: You are welcome and wth?
Lori: I’m overstimulated with motherhood right now. L (her 4yo son) called me into the bathroom to tell me, “You know how I always wanted to know what poopoo tastes wike?”
I said, “No.”
He said, “Well I ate just a wittle one.”
I was trying not to hyperventilate in front of him.
I said, “Well I bet it tasted pretty bad so don’t ever do that again. You could get really sick.”
He said, “It was pretty NOT bad.”
I started texting B (her husband who is a pharmacist.) and while I did that L started putting on my makeup. B says if it was someone else’s S*** it would be a bigger deal. I just keep hearing the saying, “Eat S*** and die,” in my head but he looks ok so far. Now we have to leave for his hip hop class. I need a xanax.
Me: OMG. I’m forwarding all of this to Blair. (My sister. Strictly for entertainment purposes. I’m a really good friend.)
Lori: Somehow I knew you would. I thought for sure Emma would have eaten a turd.
Lori: Beeteedubs that little monster won’t eat my spaghetti but his S*** is “pretty not bad”?!?!
Lori: Ditto. For different reasons.
Me: Perchance, did you have relations with Bear Grylls roughly 5 years ago?
Lori: WTH? I’m pretty sure I didn’t.
Me: Cuz he’s the only person on the planet I can think of who drinks his own pee and eats elephant turds.
Lori: Well… He seems successful.
Me: I think I just herniated an ovary.
Lori: Now he’s in his hip hop dance class. I’m in the lobby watching them practice on the TV. If they had a show called, “So You Think Your Ginger Can Dance,” no one would win.
Me: Lol. You should hit an open mic night on your way home.
Lori blogs over at Loripalooza and I’ve posted this story with her blessing. I’ve left out her son’s name in the hopes that one day, when he gets his first computer and Googles himself, this won’t pop up.
Got any good “It Could Be Worse” stories??