I can't believe I am posting this GROSS story.

I woke up this morning, and while my eyes were still shut, my ears perked up to the sound of a drip drop outside my window. It must be raining. I love the rain. I truly look forward to it, and ever since I packed my bags and moved from my childhood home in the desert of Texas, rain has gradually become more and more a part of my life. Gainesville has a rainy season, where it rains pretty much every day. In my tiny garage apartment in Houston, I would bundle up in a blanket and sit by the window watching the raindrops slither down. But it was during my time at Baylor that rain created the story that I am about to tell. I can't even remember if it was fall or spring, but after being cramped up in our dorms rooms all day, my friends and I decided to get out. It was the rain that precipitated a dashing game of mud flag football between a bunch of co-eds (okay, so maybe it was just my girlfriends. I just wanted it to sound like I hung out with boys in college.) We were only freshman (shout out to The Verve Pipe!) and we were about to gain a big lesson in checking out your surroundings before partaking in any spontaneous sports games. (To this day, this lesson has served me well. Just the other week, I was planning to dust off my old basketball and shoot a few hoops. Luckily, I "checked out my surroundings" and found out the court was actually sinking sand. Close call!) I digress...back to Waco...Next door to our chosen playing field was Brooks dorm. I was a beautiful old building, but after years of college kids running through its halls, Brooks' functionality and construction had begun to wither. Unfortunately, I think I have been out of college long enough to say this building has been torn down. It any case, when I was at Baylor, Brooks was where all the "smarties" lived...Okay, I am going to stop being polite and be honest...I am sure there were some exceptions, but Brooks was the DORK dorm. I am talking tape on the bridge of their glasses, pants above their belly button, and snort-filled laughter nerds. (Who probably own the banks that I am borrowing money from right now.) AS we were gleefully playing in the "mud" that day and with each play that was made, a stench began to waft into the air. I suppose we paused a moment to ponder the reason, but the energy and competition of the game got the better of us and we declined to investigate further. If you don't know me, I must let you in on a little secret. I have SKILLZ when it comes to full contact sports. (There should be a typing symbol for sarcasm). Anyway, in what I remember as a pivotal play in the game, I ran with the ball toward the goal line, pushing off a Tri-Delt and a Kappa, running over a Pi Phi and finally sliding past the line face first to take the score! My newly dyed red hair (anyone remember that?) was matted with mud and I had a little piece of mud pie in my mouth. But victory was mine. As I was doing my victory dance (my signature is the "shower" move, lather it up and wash it off!), I began to notice everyone inspecting their skin. Now, it was well known on campus that the dilapidated Brooks had been dealing with plumbing problems for quite some time, but it wasn't until our skin began to break out in rashes and someone mentioned the word "manure" that we realized what we had been so enthusiastically playing in. The game was over. We trudged back to Collins in silence. I am sure that we thought our lives were over. But in the end it all washed off of us. And the nerds got their revenge. They @#$% on us.