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It’s been a while since I trapped my husband in the bathroom while I pooped. Not because I’m nice, but because my bowel movements haven’t coincided with his shower schedule lately. That changed yesterday when I had the diarrhea gurgles five minutes after he turned on the water. Conditions were perfect. He was taking a hot shower, the heater was on full blast, and the air was thick and steamy. I went into stealth mode and unloaded my sludge like a dump truck in the toilet. About 10 seconds later I heard him scream and curse like it was a bloody poopocalypse in there. How rude. I was just trying to show him a little love.

Nothing says love like a little poop
Nothing says love like a little poop

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