Dave and I watched the movie Dragonfly last night. Despite its bad reviews, I really enjoyed it. I think critics are highly overrated. I mean, to each his own right? It doesn't matter what someone else says about, as long as you enjoy it that is what matters. There have been many movies that I heard were horrible and I ended up loving them. I will never ever "take their word for it".
Dave never wants to watch a movie after one of his friends say that they hated it. I make him anyway.
There is nothing worse than having your dinner catch up with you while you are in a public place. This happens to me all the time (I seriously have some sort of digestive problems). Last night it hit while Dave and I were in Blockbuster. Usually food from R's doesn't bother me but it did last night. It hit suddenly too so I walked over to Dave and said "we need to leave RIGHT NOW or else they are going to have to evacuate the building at any moment". Mind you I had a pale face, sweat starting to appear on my brow and if I could clench any harder I would have shot up into space.
Can you believe that Dave had the audacity to complain that he wanted to look for awhile! I mean, here I was ready to give a performance worse than any slasher movie in the place and he wanted to browse! The nerve! Fortunately, he pointed out a bathroom down the isle.
Okay, this is also not one of my favorite positions to be in... to have to do that kind of duty in a public restroom. Luckily it ended up being a one toilet deal with a heavy, heavy door. Hopefully the in-blockbuster movie was drowning out side effects of my own.
So I ended up having to flush three times and was in there for what felt like 45 minutes.
On the third flush I noticed that the water in the toilet came up a little too high and pieces of toilet paper came floating up to the surface.
This could only mean one thing, the toilet was about to overflow. I held my breath and grabbed a plunger in a stance that said I was ready to do war. Luckily, the water level stopped rising and I knew it was my lucky day.
I slipped out of the bathroom quietly hoping that the lady who let me in wouldn't notice just how long I had been in there.
No fan, a toilet that will explode the next time some poor fool tries to flush it and a reek worse than death.
I feel sorry for the next guy who has to use it...
There was NO WAY I was going to go inform the blockbuster girl... I mean then she would see what I DID and that would be very, very mortifying. Plus, I have my reasons, I mean a guy I once dated works there and what if word got around? I could never show my face in the local blockbuster again!
I know you are probably all sitting there gagging and going "Ewww Liz, you are gross" but don't even PRENTEND that you all don't have your moments too.
It must have been the re-fried beans or something, because when Dave got home he got hit with it too...only in the more gentler form (or so I thought)... deadly gas.
After the first one when I almost passed out and all of my plants visibly wilted, I made him go stand out on the porch when he needed to do it again.
Plus I made him sign a contract before he got into bed that there would be no farting under the covers.
Otherwise the detectives might have just diagnosed my death resulting from "natural causes" and we can't have that now can we?