Home

My brother is 23 years old, lives at home, goes to school, and is in his 5th year of being a psychology major.  That is all the back story I will give and you may form your opinions as you see fit. 

My parents have two Rottweilers, a female who is a couple months old and a male who is under two years.  Maximus, the male, became very ill recently.  A month ago they thought he had kennel cough and long story short he had a mass in his lung that had to be removed along with part of his liver.  After what was thought to be a speedy recovery he started coughing again so back to Birmingham for testing.  I was still tired from just getting back from down range (deployed) but no one else could go with my Mom so I didn't mind.  We drove up there, dropped Maximus off, got a hotel room, picked him up the next day and then we drove the 4.5hrs back.  When we got home it was glorious.  An empty case and six pack of beer on the island, dry dog food all over the floor, two dog bowls and stand are strewn through out (one had had water in it,) dirty cups, food packaging and wrappers, and a bag of trash on the kitchen table.  (When I say trash I don't mean papers...i mean a kitchen garbage bag full of garbage) Mom and I are standing in the destroyed room, Mac walks in, and he is pissed!

 

Mac: "What are you doing here?" 

Me: "haha uh what?"

Mac: "I didn't know you were coming home.  You didn't call and say you were on your way and I invited Adam over." 

Me: "So?"

Mom: "That's fine Adam can come over."

Me: "Wait, why does it matter that we're here and you were going to have Adam over? and why does it look like a bomb went off in here?"

Mac: "Well Ashley obviously we were going to have gay sex."

Me: "See you're being sarcastic but other than that drugs are the only thing I can think of that two "grown" men would need an empty house for. Soooo"

Mac: "Y'all just didn't say you were coming home, that's all."

Mom: "It's fine, Ashley and I can watch tv in my bedroom."

Me: "What? No. This is a matter of principle i'm not hiding in your room because he's having a friend over and mainly I want to know why he's the one who's pissed when the kitchen looks like this."

Mom: "I do want to know why the garbage is on the table."

Mac: "the cans are still out at the road so i just put it up there and i'm mad because I can't figure out one of the problems on my online quiz."

Mom: "Oh well when you finish your quiz if you would go get the cans and take the trash out..."

Me: "WHOA WHOA WHOA...that's not why he's pissed, he's pissed because we're home.  Look at this place and when is that a good reason to put trash on the kitchen table?! And is this quiz online?"

Mac: "yeah and I've emailed and called my teacher to ask her about it"

Me:"well they have all kinds of information on the "inter-web" i prefer google soooo that might speed up this whole garbage where we eat issue." 

Mac:"Whatever Ashley." (he always says my name with disgust...like it tastes bad to spit it out)

Me: "Where's Jack?!" 

Jack is my 9lbs dog who I would pass my brother in a burning house to find.  Jack doesn't let anyone in the house with out giving them a piece of his mind and he is always happy to see me. 

Mac: "I dunno"

Me: "JACK!"

I go yelling through the house until I get to the master bathroom where I find Jack and Rusty (my Mom's chihuahua) shut up inside.  I walk back to the kitchen and Mac is outside getting the garbage cans.

Mom: "Oh good you found them."

Me: "They were in the bathroom.  He's seriously mad at us for coming home!"

Mom: "I know."

Me: "Actually mad and is he drunk b/c there's beer everywhere."

Mom: "I don't know." 

 

Mac walks in with Adam.  Adam is a very polite young man and tries to say hello over the dogs barking.  They go back to Mac's room.  Mom begins to clean the kitchen while I unload the car. After a little while Mac comes out and says that he got in touch with his teacher while she was at the gym.  I just stared at him.  He went back to his room for a little while longer and comes back out.  My Mom is still cleaning.

 

Mac: "oh and Belle broke the glass in the picture by the door to my room."

Belle is my German Shepherd.

Me: "What picture?"

Mac: "The one on my wall."

Me: "How in the world did she do that?"

Mac: "She got locked in my room and she jumped up and down against the door and must have knocked it down." 

Me: "why would she get that upset at being shut in your room?"

Mac: "I don't know but she did."

Me: "There's a hole in this story."

Mom: "Maybe she had to poop."

Which would make sense if either Mac had said he let her out or that she had shit in his room...he abruptly turned and went back into his room.  Mom went and got the picture and pointed to it.

Mom: "There's even a white hair in it."

Me: "I'll pay for it but there's also white Belle hair in Afghanistan and a retarded amount of empty beer bottles in this house..." 

 

I dropped the issue and finished unloading the car.  Mac and Adam went into town.  Mom finished with cleaning the kitchen. 

Poopsie

Names in this first story have been changed to protect the identity of the guilty...

It took us two days just to find a flight out of Afghanistan, another two days in Qatar, then a 7.5 commercial flight, then 2 hours in an airport, and then 2 hours into our flight to the U.S. i feel the plane turning around and the pilot says that we're having engine trouble so we have to go back to where we came from.  After sitting in the airport for a few more hours they say the plane won't be fixed until the next day and send us to a hotel.  OK so actually we sat for another hour for the buses to get there, then we loaded the buses and found that most of the retards don't know to load from back to front, then we waited 30minutes for the police escort, and THEN we went to the hotel.  We stood outside in the cold and waited to be assigned a room, each room had three people.  We get to the hotel room and I take a shower and fall asleep while everyone else goes down to the bar. 

Three hours later "Poopsie" comes and lays on top of me

"Poopsie": "Come downstairs!!! Everyone misses you!" 

Me: (with out opening my eyes and said through gritted teeth) "Fucking get off of me! Even my dogs don't wake me up, get out!"

"Poopsie" and whoever else she brought into the room left. Three hours after that I hear one of the airman drop her off.  I hear her go into the bathroom and she is messing with her PTs (imagine a 1980's track suit that makes so much noise when you move it's hard to even hold a conversation and you have the Physical Training Uniform of the U.S. Air Force) then I hear her using the bathroom and then I hear her start vomiting so I wait a min and get out of bed.  I walk into the bathroom and she has her pants around her ankles with her face on the toilet.  So I get a glass and put water in it and try to get her to start sipping it but she won't. I watch her throw up for awhile and then she doesn't even lift her face from the seat to say...

"Poopsie": "I have to poop some more"

Me: "Well you have to get back on the toilet"

"Poopsie": "I can't"

Me: "Poopsie' you have to get on the toilet, you can't just poop on the floor."

"Poopsie": yes I can

Me: "Fuck! seriously?! hold on i'll help you"

Now let me explain "Poopsie" has 45 or so pounds on me and i realize that she isn't even able to sit up on her own much less help me get her onto the toilet.  I put my arms under hers, pick her up and put her on the toilet. She apparently wasn't aware that for me to pick up that much weight that high it's not a gentle or slow process so she snapped at me.

"Poopsie": "UGH! GOD ASHLEY....KSJDFJDS (angry slurring) STOP!"

Me: "Shut up "Poopsie"

I then stand there holding her on the toilet and holding a trash can for her to vomit into.  I look over and see where she's shit on the floor. I realize that what I had heard was her pooping, not finishing and then sliding off the toilet to vomit into it.  I stare at the floor in shocked silence.  She finishes and starts fumbling for the toilet paper and is unable to actually get the paper. 

Me: "Hold on and I'll get the paper for you but I am not wiping your ass"

"Poopsie": "Ugh no one asked you to!"

I hand her some paper and take a step back to watch the train wreck.  "Poopsie" rubs shit all over herself and the toilet and slides off and passes out on the floor. Obviously it was one of the worst clean up jobs i've ever seen so there was some added to what was already on the floor.  That's when I realize that the room now reeks of shit.  I try to flush the toilet and of course it's clogged.  I stand there for a few minutes debating what to do and I don't care if it makes me a bad person I refuse to clean shit off of someone, everyone has a line and mine was found. I need to go to the bathroom but I no longer have one so I go downstairs.  I talk to a few of the guys and they agree to help me with her in three hours when we have to check out.  While talking to them I'm standing at a table and in front of the bar full of people "Handsy" comes up behind me, hugs me, and while hugging me grabs my chest and crotch.  This wasn't a gentle brushing.  It was an actually painful grab.  I elbow him in the stomach and shove him away from me and then he proceeds to tell me how hateful I am.  At this point i seriously consider burning the hotel down with all of my coworkers locked inside.

 

I feel that now is a good time to go check on "Poopsie." When I get back I find that she is still on the floor but she has been moving around on the floor....the floor that has shit and now a combination of spit and bile.  She's still breathing so I feel my obligation in this situation is met.  I sit down to write my friend an email. 

At one hour and forty-five minutes before we have to be checked out I walk into the bathroom.

Me: "Poopsie' you have to get up"

I'll save you from me repeating this five times and being answered with moans.

Me: "Poopsie' fucking get up! You have shit, spit and vomit all over you, you are going to take a shower and then we will help you get on the plane. GET UP!"

"Poopsie" did not verbally respond but i picked up on a subtle vibe that she was not happy with me, I'll admit my bedside manner is lacking.  She stands and stares at me.  

Me:"Alright 'Poopsie' I'm going to start your shower and you're going to get in and wash yourself as well as you can and then get dressed.  You are not leaving this bathroom wearing those clothes or with out a shower. Do you understand?"

"Poopsie": "mmhmmm"

I start the shower and I'm having trouble with the cold water...we were in Europe don't judge me.  I look back and she is staring at the floor, I follow her line of site and she is now pushing the poop around with her shoe.

Me: "It's poop."

"Poopsie": "What?"

I pull her arm to get her attention.

Me: "STOP! right now you are pushing your own poop around with your shoe."

"Poopsie:" "I didn't do that."

Me: "I watched you. There the water is ready now get in the shower and leave your clothes in here until we figure out if you're even going to take them home."

"Poopsie": "ok"

I go to leave the bathroom and realize she's following me out of the door into the room.

Me: "What are you doing?! Stop!"

"Poopsie": "I need clothes to put on"

Me: "No you don't.  What did I say? You are covered in disgusting and you have poop on at least one shoe so take off all of your clothes, get in the shower, come out in a towel and then get dressed. OK?"

"Poopsie": "oh ok"

I walk into the room and our third room sits up in bed.

"The other girl": "Did she say she didn't do that?"

Me: "yes."

"The other girl": "who does she thinks did it?"

Me: "something tells me she's not thinking about a lot right now."

"The other girl" starts talking and i have no idea what she was saying because well i mean who cares.  I hear the shower turn off and then it happened...the most impressive rally I have ever seen.  "Poopsie" walks out wearing a towel, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed, (i'm relieved that we're not going to have to carry her downstairs) and she's looking at me like I have lost my fucking mind.  Great. 

Me: "How are you feeling?"

"Poopsie": "Like i'm dying."

Me: "You're doing a lot better then I thought you would.  I had some of the guys on standby thinking I would need help carrying you.  You know they almost got into a fight over you with the security forces guys right?"

"Poopsie": "that's a lie"

Me:"several people said it."

"Poopsie": "Well I was fucking there so I should know"

Me: "Umm do you remember how things went between you and me?"

"Poopsie": "No!" 

Me: "I'm going to breakfast."

I go to the door and Mike knocks to tell us the check out time got pushed back three hours.  Then once we go to the airport three hours later than planned they tell us, "Ooh yeah it's going to be another three hours later than planned." We sat in that airport for ten more hours before they let us go back to a hotel.  While we were eating dinner right after check in they tell us we have a little over five hours to be checked out.  We finally left that day and got home after eleven or so more hours of travel time.  

I know you're jealous of my life