Busted

So you know how I've been running during my lunch hour?

Maybe you need a refresher...

Ahhh, yeah now you remember. Well, I've been showering in this little piece of hell for about a month now, and up until this week, I was yet to see ANYONE enter this bathroom. Which is pretty legit and kiiinda made me feel like the CEO of the company I work at. "Yeah, I just have my own bathroom, it's not a big deal, just one of the perks of the job." I may or may not have just leave my shampoo and conditioner there sometimes. I might leave it there over night. It might have been sitting in that shower for bout a month. 

Yeah, OK, so I moved right in. Stop looking at me like that. 


Anyway, here's the big revelation I came to a few days ago. People do in fact use this bathroom. And by people I mean women. 


And my use I mean SHIT. This is the place where sneaky little girly girls go to take SHITS in private. 


I know this, because the other day when I was changing to run, I heard the uncommon sound of the door opening and closing. In total confusion I was 100 percent convinced it was one of three things 1. a murderer 2. a rapist 3. a ghost. As I peered around the corner, it was nothing like I imagined. A real life, living, human female. I felt like someone had walked into my house uninvited. 


Until I heard it. 


Poooooooootyyyyyy poot. Ker-plunk ppoottt parrrrrrrrrfff... gurgle gurgle. 


Flush. 


Sink. 


Paper towels.


Door open, close. 

Say whaaaaaa? Did that just.....?? Did she just........??


YOU ARE SO BUSTED.


WELL GUEZZ WHAT. THERE'S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN AND PRIVATE POOPING SESSIONS ARE NO LONGER. That's my bathroom.


hehehhehehe I hear you sneaky priss!


Come on, private poopers, don't be such a girl about it. Let 'er rip!


For complicated reasons, I am definitely probably overly comfortable talking about bodily functions. 


Another post, for another day. 

Obviously, I'm an extremely glamorous person. 


Isn't boyfriend lucky?