THERE'S SHIT EVERYWHERE

For any true pop-culture shit conneseur, there are certain scenes that stand out, many of which have already been plopped down onto this sight for your viewing pleasure. This is not one of them, because outside of this 30 second scene, Dumb and Dumberer is arguably the worst sequel to a classic movie ever made. For those of you who wear a helmet to school, the "pop" in pop-culture stands for popular, something this movie will never be. However whenever I watch this scene, I feel all warm and fuzzy. How is this, you ask? Because I really do feel Bob "I stole 17 pairs of Kimmy Gibbler's panties" Sagat's pain. See I went to college, and had roommates. So what you say? First, fuck you smartass. Second, I would like to regail you with the life and times of an esteemed housemate of mine, who we will call "Jorge", to protect his identity(sort of).

What can I say about Jorge...Well he is really good guy. He would probably give you the shirt of his back, if it wasn't that sweet of a shirt, or it wasn't weather-appropriate or something. But he is also a college student, so he likes to drink. Heavily. Big ups to Jorge for that, right? Well, sort of. See freshmen year, he became infamous for going home, going to sleep shitfaced, and then whatever happened after that was a crapshoot (get it?). Normally this consisted of drunk-sleep walking, generally bare ass naked, through this freshmen dorms, sometimes stopping to piss in a water fountain or accidentally get into bed with the wrong person, because we all know doors can be tricky when blackout sleepwalking. However this slowly progressed to worse offenses, which is where I eventually gained a particular affinity for this Dumb and Dumberer clip. See my last two years, I lived in the greatest college partybox/apartment ever concieved, but hygene was certainly a secondary concern as far as the living situation. I can deal with beer on the floor, spitters full of skoal (OHIO!!!!) and even the occasional pile of dogshit in a corner left by my adoring yet retarded puppy I got for 25 bones off of craigslist from a methlab in a trailor park. Seriously. But what I awoke to on this fateful morning crossed the line.

Roll out of bed, try not to shart on whoever was my"companion" for the evening (nothing gets girls in a romantic mood like boxed wine, left over chinese, loud music, and forgetting her name. trust me). Pretty standard. And if you are reading this site, you obviously know that a sunday morning after a hard-charging night is not complete without the obligatory beer-shit. As I left my room, I was greeted by a terrible smell. Pretty standard so far. But this was a little bit different. I figured Brady, my puppy, had probably just drank too much or something, and shit on the stairs again, until I realizes he was still in bed with the afformentioned "companion" (cute, right? the only thing that trumps boxed wine and grinding? a puppy). About to explode, I entered the bathroom, only to see what was almost an exact replica of the setting as Bob Sagat ran into. There was literally shit EVERYWHERE. Walls, floor, ceiling, bathtub, and even on the rod that held up the shower curtain. Only thing i think was sparred was the mirror, and I could be wrong on that. Who would do a thing like this? See if it was a prank, I would actually probably put on a rubber glove and shake whoever did it's hand, but I was curious as to the culprit, that is until I took a look at the shower curtain and bar. Sure enough, there was one of my roomate's clothes, soaking wet, hanging from the bar. Now I know you have to be a whole 'nother level of drunktanious in order to do something like this, but fuck, man! Hide your damn clothes, thats like evidence. I mean a huge fuckin' paper trail. Thats seriously like knocking up some broad one night and using your real name; you just don't do that!

While this has been long and drawn out, I figured THEBRICKSHITHOUSE needs to introduce himself, and to be honest, the majority of my stories revolve around Jorge. See the best part is, he tried to deny it was him that day. And the rest of the week. Now I know you may be saying to yourself "maybe he just jumped in the pool or something, and it really wasn't him". Listen dumb-dick, I need to reiterate that I lived in a slum apartment. Pool? are you kidding me? The thing is, I am actually starting at the end. See this wasn't Jorge's first adventure with shitting, more like his 4th. So you can see how rediculous it is to try and deny his involvement, since he was previously responsible for the only other 3 self-shitting instances I had seen. And while the thought of someone shitting all over themselves is sad, the fact that the only logical explanation for the shit-carnage I witnessed was that Jorge decided to multi task, both shitting and doing the "soldier boy" dance or the electric slide or something at the same time is sadder. and the saddest? you have never witnessed a person truly depressed until they are on their hands and knees, hung over, scrubbing shit off every inch of a room. And with that, I would like to formally introduce to, our readers, "Jorge". You will learn to love him.