Nice Headlights!

I have some very exciting news. The Blog of Bex has received - for the very first time - a topic request for a new blog entry!

What is the topic request, you might ask? It was to be about headlights. I'll be honest...I don't know much about them. In fact, I hate it when I have a burnt out bulb in the car. Changing a bulb at home is easy. It's changing them in the car that is the challenge. Honestly, the problem is that I can't see where they go! The light itself doesn't unscrew, therefore it's an impossible task for me. Am I totally retarded on this? (Wait...don't answer that.)

As far as the "other" headlights go, all I know is that when it happens to me I feel VERY self conscious. I don't know if it's better to ignore the fact that my nipples are ready to rip through my t-shirt or to cross my arms a little bit high to block the spectacle from others.

So there you go, Diesel. It wasn't my best effort (or even my breast answer - ba dum CHAH) but I gave it a shot.

So here is what I wanted to talk about today:

A few weeks ago my 2 year old sons swimming lesson was canceled at the YMCA. The instructor called me at home (thoughtful, eh?) to alert me so that I didn't have to do the frantic "hurry-up-get-his-bottle, where-is-his-suit, what-about-a-change-of-clothes, hurry-the-hell-up-we-are-going-to-be-late" dance first thing in the morning.

I was kind of glad as it's a major ordeal to get ME anywhere on time, never mind when I'm rolling with him. So I got kind of chatty with the instructor and asked why we weren't having class. She said that the pool was closed because they had to "Super Shock" it. She further explained that this is required by law if there is fecal matter in the pool. I said that someone's kid must have had a leaky diaper to which she replied, "Ummm...this happened at 5:30 in the morning. There weren't any kids in the pool."

There was an awkward pause in the conversation as we each contemplated the events that must have lead up to and then followed an adult taking a crap in the pool at the Y. I imagine an older person swimming his or her laps thinking, "Whew...I shouldn't have had that second cup of coffee with my bran muffin! I've gotta go pretty bad...but...I think I can make it for another lap or two...OH MY HOLY HELL!!! I just shit in the pool! What to do...WHAT TO DO???!"

The practiced liar wouldn't make any sudden splashes so as not to attract attention to himself. He'd just mosey on over to the steps swimming a graceful sidestroke whilst simultaneously shaking his ass so the remaining shit would fall out of his pants before he climbed the steps and exited the pool. The rookie liar would probably panic and begin treading water at a frantic pace while looking around to see who might be looking at them. Then they would do a scurrying dog paddle to the closest exit and never again return to the YMCA. Or did they do what some do when they fart - deny, deny, deny. This is the guy who would stay in the pool and pretend that he didn't notice a shit floating around. When the lifeguard instructed him to leave he would become irate and scream at all of the other swimmers, "Jesus Christ! Which one of you fuckers SHIT in the pool?! What kind of animals are you, anyway??!"

Whichever outcome I wonder what happened in the locker room. Did they shower off, throw their bathing suit away and then sneak away? I guess that's the only real option. It's not like they'd say, "Yeah...SO?? I shit in the pool...so sue me. I just thought I had to fart...."

Regardless, I didn't have to get into my bathing suit (which might have incited my headlights) and drag my two year old around in the pool. And that, my friends, was a good thing.


Headlights and bran muffins are served with every purchase at humor-blogs.com.