shit hit the…. floor?

For those who didn't know - I am horrible at math. Horrible might actually be an understatement. I've had a math tutor basically since I was in the second grade. I mean what are you even learning in the second grade that a math tutor is necessary?

Let's rewind to a few years ago where my parents thought that a summer tutor was also necessary while I was in high school. I assume they wanted me to be "prepared" and "ahead" of the other students, but lets be serious. How focused do you think I was when I had to meet with a four hundred pound whale of a man who came to my beach house once a week and teach me math? If negative amounts of numbers could be applied to my amount of caring, then thats how much I cared. Anyway, so this man, who was probably in his late fifties, was the most obese person I've ever come in contact with. He was not too far off from individuals I've seen on that show "My 600 Pound Life".

One particular day - shit hit the fan.. or the floor really. After my lesson, he excused himself and went upstairs to use our bathroom. No problems there. My mom and I sat in the kitchen and talked about the lesson and what my plans were for the rest of the day. After fifteen minutes went by we were beginning to get a little confused and worried. Finally, he comes downstairs and motions to speak with my mom in the other room. When he turned around I noticed there was a brown mark on his pants. I thought nothing really of it - maybe he sat in a chocolate bar in his van? Would that really be too out of the ordinary for this guy?

He quickly left thereafter and my mom proceeded to tell me that this guy shit himself. Not only did he shit himself but he also managed to get shit all over the floor in the bathroom. And on our white bathmats. And in his pants.

After our entire bathroom was scrubbed clean with bleach and the previously white bathmats were thrown out, we thought we would never hear from him again.
Well weren't we wrong.

He called a few days later calling to confirm next weeks lesson! Are you crazy?! Someone couldn't pay me enough money to show my face twice in the same place after an event like that. This dude wasn't even making that much money! We obviously told him maybe it was best to find other options and he agreed.

I haven't seen him or his shit pants since.

I can't make this stuff up people. I really cant.

Isn't it Ironic?

Just call me Alanis Morissette right now because her song was the theme song of my Saturday night.
Basically any event that could've gone horrible did. I mean the amount of horrible things that were happening to me was actually becoming hilarious by the end of the night.

It all started when I went out on a date with my boyfriend (that's a long story that will be explained in another post) and it was absolutely beautiful outside. We both got dressed up and walked to a little Italian eatery thats about a 10 minute walk from my house and were seated outside. When the waiter sat us next to the kitchen door I knew the rest of the night was going to go downhill from there.. and it did… fast and hard. As in it started thunderstorming/monsooning right before the waiter took our order.
He tried his hardest to move us under the three inches of awning to keep us dry, but of course my boyfriend was still getting rained on. The waiter moved on to trying to put up an umbrella for us and then the rain was just running off falling on our heads. This whole situation was taking about 20 minutes and the rain was pouring out of the skies so hard I could barely see across the street. After the two of us whom were becoming more and more wet by the minute, we decided to just leave and call a cab… which, of course, never showed up. So we walked home as it started drizzling. Of course it was the only time I have ever worn my three inch wedge heels and walked to dinner. Let me tell you walking in three inch heels, wedges or not, on wet cobblestoned streets is basically a remedy for a twisted ankle.

We didn't walk more than two minutes before he stepped in a puddle deeper than an olympic sized swimming pool. A few more minutes passed & a car drove by & splashed the both of us with basically a gallon of yummy street water, classic Carrie Bradshaw circa Sex & The City theme.

Did I mention that by now it was  9:15pm and we hadn't eaten anything all day? At this point we were the grumpiest cats anyone had ever seen and were basically muttering satanic latin tongues to the gods. We agreed to just eat at the next place we came by, which was another Italian restaurant that I had been wanting to try. The woman sat us quickly and we were ready to order when she explained that they were cash only… & we only had our debit/credit cards. I almost smashed my water glass on the side of the table & slit her throat with the broken class, but I decided calmly walking outside was the more mature option.

By this point I could tell that my boyfriend would have literally eaten out of a dumpster for leftovers so he just got take out pizza from a place around the corner from my apartment.
I mean the evening was so horrible that I was expecting to have lost my keys somehow because it just figured. Thank god I didn't although I'm still surprised. I finished my lovely evening in a bubble bath with white wine so I can't really complain. The events were just so ridiculous that I'm laughing about it while I'm typing. You can't make this stuff up people & I swear to you it only happens to me.

Heres What I'm Listening To:

Ironic - Alanis Morissette