Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

My name is Steven but I would like you to call me Jamal. This is my first entry in this wonderful blog portraying one of life's greatest forms of relief.

Here is some background information. I have a controlled diet 5-6 days a week because I am sort of a health nut. The latter fact means I have two shits at the same times every single day. Any sort of disruption to my eating habits causes my toilet times to go out of sync. I also usually eat the same sort of thing for each of my 6 daily meals so my time from entering the washroom and exiting ranges from 60s - 120s, depending on the tightness of the pants I'm wearing that day and whether I have to change the toilet paper roll because the asshole before me neglected to.

Sometimes I like to be spontaneous and not wait for my cheat day to eat something I end up regretting. Today it was a cheeseburger. It wasn't more than 10 minutes after the consumption of this hell sandwich that my digestive system detected what I just ate and said: "Homeboy, you did not just have a greasy ass burger on a m'fucking weekday." I don't like to be bossed around, especially by something I own, so I told my stomach to stop crying like a bitch. It was then my small and big intestines declared war on my rectum and I spent the next 45 minutes reenacting the firebombing of Dresden in WWII on the toilet seat. I had to jump into the shower directly after because the rapid firing of liquid waste and mini poo drops caused major splash on my ass cheeks that could not be cleaned solely with toilet paper.