Here’s some puke talk for your Friday morning.
Keep on scrolling past this post.
My boss was just telling me about how her dog vommed this morning, and while she was trying to clean it (it’s actually her son’s dog, she’s keeping her while he’s away at college), she had to run to the bathroom and ralph, because it was so disgusting.
I think it bodes well for me and my future offspring that I don’t get grossed out by that stuff. Sure, it’s nasty and I don’t like cleaning it, but I’ve had to do it so much that it really doesn’t bother me anymore. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life because other people’s kids gross me out (sorry), but I think if it’s my own, I’ll be OK. A good friend of mine has a little boy who straight up peed on me and I was like, “Meh, looks like I gotta change my sweatpants.” So if it’s my kid, or the kid of someone I’m super close to, I’m apparently OK with the bodily fluids and such.
HAPPY FRIDAY!