I sharted yesterday — really bad.

It’s not like I haven’t sharted before, and let’s face it — you have, too. There’s been a handful of times over my past, say, 30 years (give or take), I’ve gone to fart, only to discover — to my utter dismay — solid matter flying out of my butthole with the bad air.

I really shouldn’t say the solid matter was “flying” out of my arse, cause every time I’ve sharted in the past, it’s been nothing more than an embarrassing little shit stain in my undies.

Yesterday’s incident was entirely different.

I’m such a creature of habit that if someone wanted me dead, I’d be the easiest target on the planet. I go to the movies at the same place, buy my music at the same place, order the same dishes at the same restaurants, food shop at the same grocery store, jog around the same reservoir, etc etc. So after I had my morning coffee at the same coffee shop I do each and every day, I walked in to jump on my lap top to do the same thing I do every day — Smut Work.

Today’s top priority was to address my members at Manojob. They’ve been super pissed at my lately, and frankly, I don’t blame them. A few months ago, I switched to shooting my content in HD, and I was totally unprepared for the mess that was about to ensue. And instead of just shooting SD and working over to HD, I stopped SD completely, and it caused about a month’s worth of back-ups and problems.

Then, last week, all of a sudden my post-production machine stopped doing what it’s been doing since I got the HD issue fixed. Complicate that with my recent jaunt to Hawaii, and I was fucked for updates.

(So I never told you guys the last time I went to Hawaii with a Porno Princess, and it was, hands down, the worst vacation I’ve endured. My advice to you is when taking a pill-popper on vacation, let them embrace their drug addiction wholly, or else you’ll get to experience the mad-capped hi-jinx that is being stuck on an Island with a pill junkie in the midst of withdrawals.)

Where was I?

Oh — I go to sit in front of my lap top to ask my members to forgive me yet another time when all of a sudden I sharted. And it was a tremendous shart. My brain was still cloudy from The Morning, and my coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. Well, it didn’t kick in and jump start my brain; my bowels were a different story, cause the next thing you know I’ve got poopy-poop running down the inside of my leg.

Just that fast.

I just stood there thinking — what the fuck? Is this something that comes with being in my mid-40’s? Would I have sharted like this 20 years ago?

Obviously not, cause this was — hands down — the worst shart of my life. By a long shot. Second place Shart isn’t anything remotely close…and now that I really think about it, I can’t even recall the last time I sharted…even a little bit.

Maybe 1983?

As I’m walking to the bathroom I realize my make-up artist, my talent, and my PA are 10 minutes out. And I smell like a Third World Country.

No, my entire studio smells like one.

Then I’m thinking maybe I ate one of those salmonella eggs you’ve been reading about, but no — no eggs. My last meal was last night’s dinner, which, of course, is almost always the same — french toast and a side of bacon at Fred 62’s.

I love breakfast for dinner.

I love Fred’s.

I didn’t love my poopy shorts, though, which I had to peel off ever so carefully. That’s when The Second Wave hit, so I squatted over the toilet, cause I didn’t want to have to clean that up, too. But my aim wasn’t so good; I ended up having to clean the entire tank, which was way worse than if I would have just sat my big, white, stinky-dirty butt down on the seat.

Do I really need to tell you there was poo all over the place?

Or that my crew was now due in less than 5 minutes?

Um…yea. I got everything cleaned up, and no one mentioned anything at all about the place smelling like India, and in the end I just sort of chuckled and thought, well, at least I have something new to blog about.