Yes, The Bear Does


Another day, another chance to be amazing! 

JEEEZZZZUSS-8-BRICE’S HOT MOM IN A NIGHTIE!!! I can’t believe I just typed that! Oh well, at least I didn’t type “LIVE. LAUGH. LOVE.”

Wait, what? FUCK!!!

What I meant to type was: “Another day to be not really quarantined, another day to be a lazy, prick of a slob.” Sort of. I guess it depends on your definitions of “lazy,” “prick,” and “slob.”

I slept in because there was no reason to get up. Despite another night of going to bed with the sobering knowledge that we have a fucking reality TV star, clown of a President, and his white-haired, closeted gay, ass rimming1 sycophantic, lapdog Vice President in charge of a global pandemic, I had a great night of slumber that was only interrupted by some lucid dreams. Dreams that involved my high school best friend’s sister and her Latino lover sadly burying their adopted son (she had no such lover, nor child), as I sat next to my father at the funeral service where he loudly complained and made embarrassing, racist, bigoted remarks about various grievers of the wee (non-existent) adoptee. The dream was bizarre, but the dad part seems legit.

Eventually, the caterwauling of two bulldogs in search of dropping dooks, treats and bowls full of kibble and canned meaty-ish substances woke me up, and my day was forced, like a sack over a beaten hostage’s head, to begin.

Breakfast, a brief look at the day’s news, a mild weight session in the Not-So-Stankment, lunch, and then off for a short hike at Sylvan to avoid a working-at-home Wifey and all her unwarranted, virus-related panic.

This is where it went sideways.

I walked towards the riverside trail and passed a few folks along the way: one friendly dude, and one dog/30-something man/woman “family” in which the dog snorted, the wife said hi, and the dude ducked his head away from me like I was hurling balls of snot at him. What the fuck, dude?  I don’t want to get sick off you fuckers either, but I’m not gonna duck my head away from you like a scared lady-turtle as I walk several feet away from you on a goddamn hiking trail in the woods. I hope your wife, and your dog leave you.2

I was in search of some riverside skunk cabbage when I felt the first rumble. A rumble in my belly that said, “We gotta poop, dude!” I know my sphincter’s hero-like power, so I walked on thinking that I had a full hike and trip to the grocery store in front of me before things got “iffy” in the turd-pinch regions.

I made a slight turn away from the river, and the rumble hit me again. This time I wasn’t so sure. Then it hit me again, HARD! I stopped, and I clenched. I mean I clenched HARD! My flat white man butt and its 48 years worth of cellulite buildup covered ass muscles were working overtime in every direction to put a finger in the dike (What??? What is this, Homophobic Soiled PornHub?? It’s a different spelling/meaning you sophomoric idiot!! Go away!) of liqui-poo that was building up behind it!

“This is SO coming out!” I thought, and I was looking for a place to drop-trou unseen ASAP!!! Of all times for this to finally happen to me, it’s a day when there are like 5 cars on the parking lot!!

I scurried off-trail through the windfall and dead leaves like a hunted rabbit. I ducked and dodged branches, lept over logs, and avoided the hidden roots looking to take me down. And each time I did, I felt my bung stretch and relax in a very UN-Frankie way, allowing a tiny squirt of J-poo out. “OH, NO!! NEXT TREE! NEXT TREE!! NEXT TREE!!!

Finally, I made it deep enough into the woods, dropped my pants behind a tree, and a large liquid projectile of feces shot out of me and onto the forest floor. It looked like someone threw up a flank steak made out of 10 pounds of hot, Bill Cosby approved, butterscotch pudding skin. The Forest Gods will not be pleased with me.

Plenty of toilet paper in the woods.

I assessed damages. The undies were oddly fine. The flab of the inner cheeks must have taken the brunt of the poo-squirts. Sadly the back waistband and of the Lee Extreme Comfort Khakis took a hit during the messy fecal launch. Damn!!! I just washed these pants!!

I cleaned up with handfuls of wet, dirty leaves and shamefully made my way back to the trail and towards my car. My anal cleft getting worked over hard by soggy leaf-shreds, dirt, and mud. I might not get that Carnivorous 19 Virus, but I probably will play host to a pinworm in the coming days.


I texted Wifey on my way out of the woods. I needed to share this horrific moment in my life with someone and tell her to be in touch with one of our friends—who seemingly does what I just did on a semi-weekly basis— and let her know that I’m part of the Adult Shit Yo’Self club. Sigh.

I got a few OK shots before the “incident,” but it was not the afternoon I imagined. At least there was no Wifey asking how I was feeling, and if I took my temperature (I didn’t and won’t. Unless I think I’m actually getting sick!!! And it’s rectally. Sorry girl, but it’s getting a bit much. I know you mean well, and I love you, but GODDAMN! Everyone needs to relax. Don’t be stupid, but relax. You know, like Frankie says.

I drove home in shame, put my clothes in the washer, and took a shower. A leaf fell out of my ass as I walked into the bathroom. Sigh… I’ve had better Fridays, but despite their qualities, they often left me with little to write about. Today I got to write about poop; one of my favorite subjects. Right behind butts, boobs, music, boogers, sexy-time, burping, farting, beer, and food.

One of you came to this site for cycling content. As you can see, that ship sailed long ago. Sorry?



Note: Videos are Pandemic Boredom Videos put together this week and have no relation to my day at Sylvan.

  1. Get it in there real good! Ohhhh… Oh, YEAH!! Use the stylohyoid muscles that your Almighty gave you, Mike! MIKE! CLOCKWISE! CLOCKWISE! COUNTER! COUNTER! COUNTER CLOCKWISE!-OH-MY-FUCKING-GOD!!! MIIIII-KKKKEEEEE! MY PERSONALITY-VOID RAW HOT DOG JUICE SKINNED LOVER!!!
  2. Those dick-nose sentiments would come back to haunt me soon. Fucking Karma!

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