My Shitty Day

I don’t have crappy days. I don’t have mediocre or peachy or excellent or awful or in-between days. I only have two kinds of days, good days and shitty days. Today was a shitty day. This isn’t really all that odd as having only two types of days leads to about 50% of them being shitty. I like it this way. It’s simple. And by being so simple, it is efficient. And I love efficiency. Things that are not efficient are wasteful. I hate waste. Especially human waste. Like shit…

This morning my alarm went off at 6am. I woke up, said “fuck it, I’m tired, I’m sleeping in.” So I hit the snooze button 3 quick times. Bam, bam, bam. And fell back asleep. 6:24am. Alarm goes off. I woke up, said “fuck it, I’m tired, I’m sleeping in.” So I hit the snooze button 3 quick times. Bam, bam, bam. And fell back asleep. 6:48am. Alarm goes off. I woke up, said “fuck it, I’m tired, I’m sleeping in.” So I hit the snooze button 3 quick times. Bam, bam, bam. And fell back asleep. 7:12am. Alarm goes off. I woke up, said “fuck it, I’m tired, I’m sleeping in.” So I hit the snooze button 3 quick times. Bam, bam, bam. Stace rolls over and says “hey, its Wednesday, we gotta take the trash out.” So I roll out of bed. Walk thru the house naked and help her gather the trash up and put it outside. Since I’m already up, I say “fuck it, I don’t feel like working, I’m just gonna sit around naked for a bit.” So I go and take my morning 35 second shit. When I’m done with that I go and check my email. Then I check my other email and read about some guy who wants to give BC 8 million dollars to help poor little kids. Then I check my other other email. I didn’t check the rest of my accounts as by this time I was starting to get hungry. 7:40am. So I say to myself, “fuck it. I’m hungry, I’ll go to work after I eat.” I pour myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Slurp it down my cakehole and come to the abrupt realization that I am still sitting on the couch naked. I haven’t even taken a shower yet and I was supposed to be at work almost an hour ago. So I stand up and say out loud “SHIT, I gotta get to work.” So I threw some clothes on and ran out the door without a shower at about 7:56am.

I get to work a bit after 8am and start unloading some of the stuff that I had loaded in it from the night before. So I drop off some paperwork with the secretary and unload some surveying equipment into the shop. As I’m putting stuff away I accidentally knock over a jar of an unknown liquid. Does it land on my arm? No. Does it spill all over my shoes? Nope. So where does it land? On my balls. That’s right. It manages to somehow spill so that it lands perfectly spread across my crotch. Making it look like I had just thoroughly pissed myself. At least no one was around so I didn’t have to listen to any awful piss jokes. By the time I had found something to dry it up with it had evaporated leaving only a faint smell reminiscent of diesel fuel or lacquer thinner. I quickly forgot about it and went on with my day.

I arrived at my first jobsite for the day at about 9:15am. A private road in Clyde township. The road was more or less finished. All I had left to do was a finale check on everything and then pull all my grade stakes so that the finesse work could be done. During this time I enjoyed the usual construction worker appearance. I spit. I swore. I scratched my ass and my balls. Nothing out of the ordinary. After a couple hours of working, swearing, spitting, and scratching, I began to realize that I had been doing a bit more scratching then normal. At first, I figured it was just a nugget. Something that had escaped the toilet paper this morning. A rarity but shit happens, ya know. After all, I had skipped my morning shower. So I did a little digging. Pushing the back of my pants into my crack hoping to knock the little bugger loose. No go. In fact, it made it worse. A lot worse. So I tried harder. Same results. Not being the quickest of folks, I continued to do the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. A different result finally came. In the form of an excruciatingly burning sensation on my ass hole. All this rubbing had also began to have the same effect on the front half of my crotch. This is about when I started to put two and two together. Maybe, just maybe, that mystery liquid that had spilled on my pants had soaked into the denim. Gravity might have just centered in between my balls and my asshole. The fact that I wasn’t wearing any underwear today could possibly have made it significantly easier for the mystery liquid to touch bare skin and pores like an anus or recently shaven balls. Now if said liquid was indeed a lacquer thinner then its possible that it could cause something quite similar to the exquisite pain I was feeling by this point.

I have an uncommonly high pain tolerance. This went past that. My balls were on fire. My ass was on fire. And it wasn’t funny. I was beginning to walk funny. I couldn’t sit. This was not good. This was shitty. This was very very shitty. I waddled over to my boss, Joe “the Hammer,” and told him “I’m going home. My ass is on fire. And my balls aren’t far behind.” He gave me a queer look and asked me if it was hemorrhoids. I said “No. I’ll be back later,” and abruptly left and got into my truck. If you’ve ever tried driving a truck, or any other vehicle for that matter, while squatting over the seat, it’s not very easy. The speed bumps on the way into where I live didn’t help either. I ran into the house, asked Stace if she wanted to join me while I was stripping in the living room. Ran into the bathroom and hoped into the shower. 20 minutes later I was my happy non-flaming balls and anus self again. All this and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Any day when you set your balls on fire before noon is a shitty day. There’s no way around it. If I had won a million dollars an hour later, it would still be a shitty day. It can’t be helped. But it doesn’t matter as I didn’t win a million dollars. I didn’t win anything. In fact, I lost about $4,OOO dollars. Give or take. Well at least it wasn’t my money. But it was at least 50% my fault. Unfortunately though, I am a Couchist. So it was 100% my fault. Glutton for punishment I guess. I could probably go into detail about it but it’s long and complicated. There were several other little shitty things that also went wrong but then I’d just be whining. And those types of things happen on all my shitty days and even on a few of my good days. Anyways, hope somebody gets some pleasure out of my pain as every masochist needs a sadist. And today I was definately the masochist.