It was my 2 year anniversary today, and my girlfriend has been nagging me about going out for weeks. I keep telling her that we dont really have the money since she got fired from her waitress job for yelling at a kid in the restaurant a couple of weeks back, but she insists that if we don't celebrate it we might as well break up right now because it proves that I don't give a sh!t about our relationship. So I give in and book a reservation at a fancy restaurant that she used to like and because we had gift cards that my parents gave us a couple of years ago. I figure, "Hey, best of both worlds, right?" She gets to eat at a fancy restaurant, and we save money by using gift cards. So we order dinner, and it's awesome, and I'm getting salads and appatizers and beers since I figure we have to use up the whole gift card because it's pointless leaving like a few bucks on it, right? So finally the bill comes and I give the waitress my gift cards. After the waitress walks away my girlfriend says she is so embarassed because we're using gift cards at a fancy restaurant and that it looks low class. I tell her I don't give a sh!t how it looks because the alternative was ham sandwiches and instant rice.
We're still in the middle of arguing when the waitress comes back and tells me that my gift cards expired two years ago and that they're no good any more. I'm like "Whaaaa?" and the waitress is like "Would you like to use another form of payment?" So I'm like, "No, I'd like to use the gift cards." The waitress tells me that the gift cards are expired and that I can't use them. I start getting pretty pissed and demand to speak to a manager so the waitress goes to get her manager. Meanwhile, my girlfriend is now hissing at me that we look like white trash because we're demanding that the restaurant accept our payment of expired gift cards. The manager comes over and reiterates that he can't accept the gift cards because they're expired and the system won't take them as payment. I start getting heated with the manager and tell him he better take the gift cards or this meal is on the house.
We keep arguing and the manager tells me to either pay for the meal with something other than a non-expired gift card or he's going to call the cops on us. I'm not lying when I say that I seriously considered legging it out of there, but we parked the car with the valet so I didn't really have a good getaway plan that didn't involve having to purchase a new car. I tell the manager to go fuck himself, I leave zero tip, and then pay on my credit card. We leave the restaurant and the stupid goggly eyed valet dipsh!t brings me my car.
I got Lasik surgery a couple of years ago and my night vision has gone to sh!t ever since then, so normally I make my girlfriend drive me around if it's nighttime. However, seeing as in how she already hates me because of the big scene I caused in the restaurant, I just say screw it and get in the car and start driving home. This is what it looks like when I'm driving.
I can't see anything but the road markers and a fuzzy outline of the car directly in front of me. It's terrible. So we start the long drive home (bout 45 minutes) and as we're getting closer to home I realize I'm REALLY needing to take a dump. I just spent the last 2 hours eating salad, bread, steak, potatoes, mushrooms, pie, beer, and coffee. To say my stomach was unsettled would be like saying that World War II was a small misunderstanding. I start speeding up so I can get home and let my asscano erupt. I already can't see sh!t, I'm speeding, I'm slightly tipsy from dinner, and I'm holding in a raging case of the sh!ts all at the same time. Now you know how you can hold in a piss/dump for hours if you need to, but when you finally get in the bathroom you have to rip your pants off for fear of sh!tting yourself in those last 30 seconds? Well that's where I am right now. I just pulled off the exit where my neighborhood is, and in a few short stop lights, I'll be at my house. I'm nervous, but also a little excited because I think I'm gonna make it. We're approaching the second-to-last stop light and it's red. I start putting on the brakes when my foot slips off the brake pedal and nudges the accelerator... at that moment, I realize I'm going to hit this car in front of me.
If all that happened was I rear-ended the car in front of me this wouldn't have been that big of a deal. An accident I can deal with. But no. It wasn't just an accident. At the very moment I impacted the car in front of me, I lost control of the death grip I had on my ass cheeks. I am ashamed to say that I shat myself for the first time since I was like 10 years old. Right there in my car. Right next to my girlfriend. On the night of the second anniversary. The only silver lining I can find is that the stench of the feces in my pants overwhelmed the odor of alcohol that the cops probably would have smelt had I not shat myself, but that's a pretty small consolation.
So, now instead of having sex on my 2 year anniversary, I am posting a story on the internet about how I shat myself. FML.
