So my girl and I decide to take little hike today; and seeing that we work at the foot of Blue Hills, we head up there. Beautiful day. Sun is shining. Birds are singing. Views are panoramic. Voices in my head are at a minimum. Who knows -- maybe I could even get a little action.

A bit after we set off, I get a slight grumbling in my belly. Whatever. Too nice of a day to worry about it. Minutes later another groaning pain hits my intestines. I can deal with this. We push on. Soon, sweat begins to cover my brow and I feel a bit peaked. I've been here before. My body is revolting against me. It reminds me of the large Starbucks, the chocolate buttery croissant, the second large Stargucks, and the ham, bacon, turkey and swiss sandwich I just ate. I don't care. It's too nice a day and I can beat this thing. I will survive. I am a winner.

I feel like I'm winning when Rachel asks if I'm enjoying this sunny, crisp fall hike as much as her. Well, I explain, not really. As she hears my complaints, she obviously expresses her sympathy. But, even worse, she offers advice: "Just go."

No way am I going to let this explosion happen in the woods. Way, way, way too messy to clean up with leaves. We must press on. The pain increases. The sweat gushes from my pores. I try to think happy thoughts. Just be strong for 15 minutes and you will beat this thing!

But "Just Go" resonates in my brain. She offers to go ask the people at the weather station on the top of Blue Hills if I can user their crapper. No way man. I'm not gonna be the mad shitter who can't control himself and ruins their bathroom. Despite her protests, we move on.

Making our way down South Skyline, I get a reprieve. The sweat eases. The pain subsides. I will make it. I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. It's gonna be bright, bright, bright, sun shiney day. It's gonna be brigh......." Nope.

"Oh God!" I grab my gut. Pain shoots throughout my whole body. This can't be happening. My legs refuse to move. "Just go," I hear again. Must....hold....on. Must....be... strong. Can't....hold........ oh, fuck it. I bomb off the trail, looking for a nice tree somewhat out of the line of sight. I spot it. I shuffle, doubled over, to the tree. Ok, this is it. I'll make this work.

Of course, you all know how your ass is always a little bit ahead of your mind. Well, I've been through this before, many times, and my ass and mind have always been perfectly synchronized. Any time I'm in a situation like, this instinct takes over, so that as soon as my drawers are dropped, bombing commences.

Let's back up a little now. A few weeks ago I returned something to Decathalon Sports and got a credit. With this credit, I bought some new shorts. A million pockets. Built in belt. Fly zip. Button top. Elastic waist band. Real nice shorts.

Ok, where was I? Yeah, ass and mind are synchronized. Ass and mind are counting down as I get towards the tree. "3," my ass says. "2," my mind says as I settle my feet on the ground and grab for my drawers. "1," my ass cries as I pull down with all my strength on my shorts. "Blastoff!" my ass exlaims as my fingers tell my mind that the belt and button and fly on my new shorts are impossible to unravel in such a short time.

So, here I am, back at work, minus my boxers and my once-nice new shorts. Thank God we have showers at work. Thank God I was wearing work-out clothes and had work clothes to change into. Thank God my boss doesn't keep tabs on me at lunch. Thank God this wasn't a first date and that Rachel has a sense of humor.

-- Scoto