Tell me why I can stomach Taco Bell and Chipotle like a champ, but as soon as I try to get my veggies in at B-Plate, I’m running home clenching my cheeks to keep from shooting my booty juice and building a dookie castle. Today, to the dismay of God’s plan and with seconds to spare, I unleashed that liquid gold from my b-hole in the Sproul Hall communal bathroom.
Crappppppp. Shoot. Fuck. This is so bad. Everybody talks about the freshman experience, all the late nights with friends and dorm kickbacks, but I know for a FACT I’ll never get that sweet, sweet camaraderie if they find out I’ve done such remorseless damage to the sanctity of the porcelain throne.
I know what you’re thinking: deny, deny, deny!
Guess what, buddy: the truth hurts. And the truth is that they definitely know it’s me, because nobody else can replicate that signature acoustic mix between jet engine and h*rny duck that echoes from my crack on the reg when I bomb that damn bowl.
This leaves me with no choice but to turn to the method lauded by sex-offenders and Youtubers alike: the Notes App Apology.
Here’s what I sent to the Sproul 6 North GroupMe, in case you missed it:
i’m sorry
i know firsthand how difficult it is to walk into the bathroom to get a look at your fit or take a quick piss and all of a sudden be hit with something so rancid you wish you never got potty trained so you’d never have to enter the toilet room. i’m so sorry to all those i have hurt, and all the vibes i have murdered when i did that royal squat and blew my mud all over. i want to apologize especially to those who came in to brush their teeth. you got my shart in your mouth, and that hurts.
please forgive me, i will be taking a social media break at this time to learn and grow my gut microbiome.
i hope you can find it in you to forgive me. i promise I’m chill and i will share my wet wipes.
