Oh man that was quite a work out the other day. Holy crap I was sweaty & soaking wet, bros. Soaking wet bros. Yeah, no comma - think about it.
Anyway, after HULKING OUT from chugging a protein shake, I had to get in the shower right quick. Lemme git in that shower, dawg. But yo, somebody in there right now, and I think I know who it is.
Fortunately (showatime, shawty awwww yeah) & unfortunately (I gotta POOOOOP and shower), it was my wife. So I'm bangin' on the door and hollerin' about a possible bowel leak in aisle three, and finally she finishes up. As she exits, I rush into the bathroom, try to catch a peek at some boobie, and make my peace with the porcelain turlet gods.
That wasn't even the ruh-roh part; nah, check this out.
After finishing the dump without incident, I grab my towel and throw it onto the shower rod. But as I'm making the transfer from the towel rack to the shower rod, the towel brushed against my naughty bits.
My stinky, sweaty, gross naughty bits. Now keep in mind, "bits" isn't the best descriptor of my area, it's just that I heard my brother say it one time, and thought it was funny. Nothin' scarea than my area.
So there I am, standing there naked, trying to take in the levity of the situation. My towel, the towel that I'll be using to dry off in about eight minutes just swabbed my sweaty junk. Gross.
There is a high likelihood that that particular part of the towel would be the very part I would be using to dry my face off. And indeed it was.
Words can't describe the grimace on my face, shame and anger in my heart, as the used, soiled towel scrubbed across my moneymaker.