Yesterday after my morning run, I headed to the pool for some swim practice. There were three other people already in the pool by the time I got there, so I found a strip of water that was relatively unoccupied and did my thang.
I had the feeling I was violating some pool rules. Nobody said a single word to me, but the looks I was receiving felt kinda condemnatory. I found out later that I was supposed to wear a swim cap. Okay, fine, but that doesn’t require that you give me hate-looks, you uppity bastards.
I have now purchased a condom-like cap for my next trip to the pool. It’s so not comfortable. Is having long hair really that much of a sin? Come on, people.
So the other day I stepped on the scale to see what the damage was. Then I had some private time with the porcelain throne and afterwards, for shits and giggles, decided to weigh myself again to see how much my evacuated poo weighed. (Editor’s note: Don’t act all shocked by this. You know you’ve done it too.)
I weighed in a pound heavier than I had before I pooed.
What. The. F*ck.
My poo wasn’t even weightless. Somehow it had defied gravity with a negative mass. How is this possible?
One of you scientific folk need to explain this to me. Because if that happens again I’m going to set fire to the damn scale. That’ll teach it to toy with me and the laws of physics.
All right, that’s it for me. Have a happy hump day, everyone.