Me: I've decided that if I had one wish granted to me, it would be to have perfect shit. Shit that didn't hurt, wasn't difficult, comes out clean and happy, and that's it. That's my wish.
Leo: THAT would be your wish? It's about shitting?
Me: Um, HI. Do you know me? Have you met me yet? YES, my wish would be for perfect shit.
Leo: I don't get it.
Me: Well, you know how you hate it when you have a bad shit? Like, when you swear you're sick or you ate something bad, or whatever? And you walk around here sulking like it's the end of the world?
Me: Ok, imagine that happening to you FOUR TIMES A DAY. And then tell me that it would be a wasted wish to wish for perfect shit.
Me: Yeah. So that'd be my wish. I fucking HATE my shit. I wish I had nice shit all the time. You people who don't have IBS or just irritated stomach for whatever reason just slay me. You could never understand what it's like to be me...
(Did we really have this conversation? Why yes. Yes, we did. After I'd had to have him pause the TV for the 3rd time in an hour after we got home from dinner so I could go to the bathroom AGAIN. ::sigh::)