Although there are no bedsheets involved, the concept is the same. Every time I get up to go to the loo, she's JUST made her exit from the one and only tiny claustrophobic toilet on our floor, where odors get steamed and ripened by the humidity and linger around for much longer than they should. From the noxious smell and race car tracks at the bottom of the toilet, I can tell she has some pretty severe digestive tract issues…TMI, anyone!?!!
Every time I'm caught in her trap, I find myself cursing her silently while I try to hold my breath for as long as I can. When I return to the office, she flashes me a purpley gummy smile as if nothing's the matter, when in fact, my oxygen-deprived face must be the same shade as her gums…
1 comments:
TMI indeed! XD But I love it! Girls need to admit to farting and pooping more.
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