With a disappointing voter turnout...the call is for the GI Tract disater.

Here is the story:

A few weeks ago, hubby had to take the day off from work when our sump pump began emitting terrible noises from its cavernous lair below the basement floor. He hustled over to Home Depot, bought a new pump after removing the old one and realizing it wasn't even a proper sump but a 1960's effluent pump for a septic system!

He got the installation and cleanup done by 1pm so we all decided to go out for a nice lunch and a beer for dad to reward him for his handyman skills.

We settled on Houlihans as our destination because it is near home, offers Guinness on tap, has a kids menu and fantastic burgers.

As our lunch commenced, hubby and I each ordered a salad and a burger; kiddo opted for chicken tenders.

Everything was delicious but along the ride home I felt a tell-tale gurgling erupting in my stomach. I assumed too much diet coke was giving me gas.

We arrived home, I began some chores and felt like I had to pass some of the aforementioned gastric carbonation...so I attempted to squeak one out only to be engulfed in an underpants emergency: I didn't have gas but rather DIARRHEA! I sh*t all over my thong and new jeans! I had to get into the shower and clean up, the schmear was EVERYWHERE!!!

Hubby heard my screams and inquired about the problem.

"Oh man, something I ate at Houlihan's gave me the skids!" I exclaimed.

"Hmmm, maybe they should call it "Stool-ihans," he deadpanned.