Dead Man's ExLax

EVERYONE knows (or should by now) that I'm on the P90x workout system. A lot of changes have occured. Not like puberty, with body hair, but with "other" things...

I decided to pop a few of ye olde drink down last Friday, Red Bull and Vodka. Feeling pretty good. Nothing out of the norm.

And then, I woke up Saturday.

Dear Gods, do I have appendicitis? Did someone cockstab my abdomen in my sleep? When you pray to every known God to at least fart, you know you've done something hellishly wrong.

Now, my meatsickle and I are remodling his house in preparation for my arrival next month. It must be up to Coulow Code. So, that is our Saturday chore. Half bent, like an 80 yr old question mark does NOT make a job easy. I devoured 2 exlax pills by noon, and my deceased Grandfather's left over prescription bowel pills by 2pm.

...nothing.

Much to my families dismay, by 5pm, SOMETHING was happening. A rancid, centurian skunk apparently inhabited my lower bowels and I cleaned some rooms out. Not until after 8pm......OVER 8 HOURS LATER did glory happen.

A light shown down. A toilet was violated. A pant size dropped. A lesson learned.

When on a strict workout plan, don't think you can stomach things you used to. Not just 31 flavors of ice cream, or an all beef patty on a sesame seed bun. No. DRINKS are included boys and girls.

Lesson to all. We ain't young no mo.

Te amo.

COULOW