This post is rated P for Poo.

Oh Lord, where to even begin?

So, you all will be delighed to hear that my Schmoobs is well on his way back to good health. And I will take full credit for his recovery, what with my awesome girlfriend-ness, with the Gatorade fetching and ginger tea brewing and lugaw cooking... However, now I am not so sure how to feel about having good ol' Scott back seeing as he now has the energy to relay to me -- in full graphic detail -- about the unfortunate bodily functions that transpired during the last 48 hours. And I'm not talking about the vomiting. As in, a few times, he was vomiting so violently that stuff started coming out...in another place.

*** STOP READING HERE NOW. I MEAN IT. ALRIGHT...DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU ***

At least the first couple of times it happened, it was not really, um, solid stuffs. Like, erm, how did he put it..."brown water." But then, last night. Oooh, last night. I came home from work and found him still completely passed out in bed, as he had been the entire day. So I went into the kitchen to brew some fresh ginger tea and make that lugaw. In the midst of it I -- because did I mention that I am an Awesome girlfriend? -- walked down the hall towards the bedroom to check on him. Except that I was startled by Scott suddenly rushing out of the bedroom and into the hallway with a strange expression on his face -- startled? sleepy? confused? panicked? Yes, panicked is what I know it was now, in hindsight. Because as I have learned, he had just crapped his pants. For real. Thank God I can honestly say that I have never in my entire life been so sick that I have craaapped my paaants. And the disgusting boys-are-dirty-girls-would-never-even-think-about-doing-this topper of it all? He did not throw his dirty boxers away.

I'll let you think about that for a minute.

It sat in his dirty laundry (which almost never intermingles with my dirty laundry...praise Jesus) all night until he put it in the laundry machine tonight. I mean, really??!! I mean, I'd ask him but I'm too scared to know that answer, but I would at least hope that he had the good sense to *shudder* scrape some of the poo *bleargh* off before he tossed the crap-ridden underwear into our closet *hurrrl*. It's only by the grace of God that I still love this guy. Because, for realz, if there was even a hint of a question as to what my true feelings were for this foul creature, I think it has been answered this very day. And when I asked him why he did not do immediately throw them away -- I believe the exact words were "OH MY GOD WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU RUN RIGHT TO THE GARBAGE CAN AND THROW IT AWAYYYYY???!!!" -- his response was, "Well, you were cooking in the kitchen and I didn't want to walk in there and toss in a pair of poopy underwear." Oy. Oy oy oy. I guess it makes sense...kind of.

Anyway, for better or worse, Scott is back to his former self, playing NCAA 2007 Football on his XBox 360 and smiling at me and saying, "Poopie Doopies" over and over. *sigh*

Also: Scott and I are flying home for Christmas tomorrow night. Huzzah! Huzzah! I am way excited. Also in deep denial about the list of about 10 things that I still need to take care of before we catch our airport shuttle tomorrow and have yet to even begin. But still excited. Wheeee!!


UPDATE: In case you were wondering, I knew about the Crappy Pants Incident last night, but I specifically didn't put it in my blog for the sake of my dear Schmoobliedoos. However, he was reading my previous post earlier this evening and asked, "Why didn't you write about how I crapped my pants?" And then I said, "You seriously want me to put that in there?" And he was all, "..... Yes." So I did.