If You Have Love In You're Heart, There's No Need To Prepare For Christmas

Four out of the past five times I've taken a shit there's been no toilet paper in the room. We have a whole batch of toilet paper, but all the way across the apartment in the second bathroom (that's right, ladies, two bathrooms, right next to the Lambourgini and the piles of golden-gilded coke, aww yeah). This requires either an awkward "Hey..." conversation through the creaked doorway with my pants around my ankles or an embaressing hobble across the hall with a careful attempt not to touch anything. Either way, I go through a few moments of solemn mental preperation before retrieving the necessary stash. "Oh, God..." I mumble, thinking to myself how I had promised last time I would never repeat this situation. Never again, I vow loudly, never again! But four out of five times. Four out of five times, people! Is this registering with you as much as it should? That's a huge amount of times I had to do a little waltz with shit still in my ass. I shouldn't have to tell you that that ain't fun.

I put toilet paper in the bathroom so hopefully this won't happen again. But as studies have shown, fate has something against me.