Monday, July 14, 2014
Kyle and I have had a long-standing debate regarding stomach situations. He is of the belief that any normal human being has the capacity to hold their bowel movements under any and all given circumstances.
I am of the the belief that even if you turn the radio up, the air conditioning on full blast, and pray to Jesus harder than you ever have before, sometimes there isn't a Denny's to pull over at and sadly the inevitable may happen.
When I admitted to Kyle I left a load in my Pontiac Sunfire on the desolate drive back to college (for all of you who know Route 6, you know what I am talking about), he automatically thought I was the most disgusting human being alive, not understanding that after having five of my grandma's meatballs, anyone else would have been in my same position.
While at my family reunion the summer before our wedding, I knew my sick and twisted family would also share in my belief. We all began to to swap stories. When we asked my grandpa if he had, his response was "How many times?"
We were all crying from laughing so hard and I knew that when Kyle came outside he had to learn of this consensus. I wish you could have seen the look on his face when everyone raised their hands. Classic.
I will have you know that the day Kyle shits himself will be deemed a National Holiday in my family. We have a standing deal that a mass text must be sent as soon as it happens.
Now you may think I'm over sharing, but I'm just simply saying it's important to know what family you are marrying into. Because after all, the family that shits together, stays together!