One of the more unexpected benefits of switching to a standing desk has been that my bowel movements seem to be much faster. It makes sense, but it wasn’t planned for. I’m sort of locked and loaded, with one in the chamber, ready to go.
As a result of this upgrade, I’m going to have to be a little more careful about playing the time-honored game of fart roulette. I recently made a slight miscalculation to that end, and my Pink Floyd boxers now hang shamefully in the shower. It wasn’t a major incident, but should have been enough to put a scare in me.
However, instead of learning from my mistake I followed it up by eating a fair bit of rancid meat, which was graciously donated directly to my asshole at a potluck. Thanks guys. I have spent a lot of time since then monitoring the progress of my previously-soiled underpants drying in the shower, from the convenient seat installed nearby.
Tonight I decided that I would take some time off during my recovery to check if I was still lactose intolerant. I ate a massive bowl of icecream, for science, and as it turns out I am still lactose int— oh god brb
