Two stories
1. Years ago, I worked on the tuberculosis floor. I was all kitted out, mask, gown the whole schmear and walked into this guy's room to bring him his meds. I went throught the airlock to see my patient buck naked smearing his shit all over the wall. I screamed, "Trevor, what the hell are you doing?" "Painting a mural, Sister." He was completely delerious with fever.

2. At my mom's 60th birthday shindig, all of my sibs (there's 10 of us) with spouses and kids are there. We're in the fanciest restaurant in my little hometown. Really fancy. Really really fancy.

My excruciatingly unmanageable 2 year old was playing quietly under the table. At this point I didn't care what he did--he was quiet, I knew where he was, he wasn't destroying anything and I could get drunk in peace.

The smell gets stronger and stronger until I catch on and investigate. In rolling around under the table, he has squished this huge turd up his back and out his collar on to his neck and face and then down his leggings into his shoes. He is covered in excrement. There isn't a single handhold on this kid that's not foul.

Husband and I took him in the men's room and tried to clean him. At the end, the bathroom was shitsmeared, all the guests using it had fled and I had a naked crappy toddler wrapped in my angora sweater. (dry clean only. The drycleaners hate me now)

Hubby and I both tipped the maitre d' 20 bucks each, we were so embarrassed.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 6 May 2004, 3:35, Reply)