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But all that did was give me a big ole’ taste of whatever it was he ate that caused such a travesty in his lower intestine. And then as I began to pass out I hear a voice from afar.“How’s it going in there, Dirty Randy?
It was as if he consumed a whole bucket of sea water and bad Thai food. ” It’s his wife, she’s outside the dressing room now.
In the spirit of true brotherhood, I decide to take one for the team.“My bad,” I say.“Gross,” Mrs. And she didn’t really call him Dirty Randy but it sort of ruins the story if I tell you his real name.“It’s too big.”Too big, I think.Is he talking about whatever he’s trying on or whatever he’s trying to get out? It’s starting to pull me from my own haze.“Randy, pass it under the door and let me take a look at it.”Now I’m actually laughing out loud. The guy who writes funny blogs just has this fall into his lap. Not only do I think he shit himself, but he shit herself and myself and every other self in the Kohl’s men’s section.“No,” he replies timidly, “I think it was the guy in the room next to me.”My mouth drops.The noise a belt makes is quite distinct and it sounded like this guy had a belt buckle the size of a trash can lid.It sounded like he was taking off a parachute with all the clasps, buckles, and snaps he was undoing.