I figured the title of the blog alone should garner some attention.

So, how did Piper make me poop my pants, you may ask.

Let me start off by saying it is not entirely her fault. It's not like she gave me some hypnotic suggestion making me poop myself and she didn't play some mysterious note on an accordion that made my cheeks spread apart (For some reason the only instrument I can envision Piper playing is the accordion, she doesn't seem like a harpist to me.)

Here is why my little accident is Piper's fault:

Piper needs a PCI-E video card. I happen to have a 1gb one laying in the bottom of a drawer (Actually it was sitting on my entertainment center in front of the TV because my roommate found it in a drawer and thought it might work on my super-slow computer, but it didn't because I use a supped up abacus that runs agp graphics.) So, being the good person that I am, I went to the post office to mail the really cool but not overly expensive card to Piper.

Note to Piper: I mailed out the graphic card.

It was at the post office where calamity struck. First off, there was one of those annoying people at the front of the line. You know the kind, way too friendly or lonely to conduct any business transaction in a reasonable time frame. So after he decided to go with the forever stamps with the us flag on them and a lengthy discussion over "In God we trust", he decides to pay with a check. That's when my stomach started churning, and I hadn't even eaten since breakfast- 8 hours earlier.

Finally, the guy finishes paying. This was after a lengthier discussion about why he had to show his ID for writing a check. He named every other postal worker in the place that didn't take his ID.

So I finally get up to the front of the line. YAY! It cost me 5.50 to mail the video card and I was done in 28 seconds (I counted). But my stomach didn't appreciate my efficiency very much.

So, with my stomach churning and a glute workout on its way, I ask the nice lady if there was a restroom. SHE SAID NO!. For some reason it is against the law for post offices to have public restrooms. I guess they are scared someone will go into the bathroom and stuff envelopes with anthrax. I leave the area and go into the lobby where all the post office boxes are. I can barely work, but I am doing a workout that would make any Buns of Steel aficionado blush. In order to take my mind off my dilemma, I decide to make a phone call.

I stay on the phone for ten minutes before deciding to go to my little Honda Civic. I was afraid that I was loitering too much and didn't want to be confused with some deranged fat transvestite mail bomber. The Honda though is not really the car to drive when you are doing a glute workout like I am. I get into the poor little car and I guess my body seemed to recall that the position I was in closely resembled the position I get into when I use the bathroom at home.

Luckily I was able to clench my butt cheeks tight enough in time to not have it be a total disaster. I then drove to comp usa and used there bathroom but the damage was already done and now I have to do wash.

It is my contention though, that Piper has a plan to make each and every one of us poop themselves, even if it's just a little bit. So, everyone, be on your guard.