High Fecalty

Let's talk about poop, shall we? People say death is the Great Equalizer, but I say screw death.

It may happen to everyone, but it certainly isn't the SAME for everyone. Which, on a side note, should I be concerned that Gray wants to, "die at the same time in each other's arms"? Because I'm pretty sure he's going to die first, and what if I still haven't achieved my goal of State-wide Domination or Being Rich or Fucking Steven Colbert? It sounds romantic and all, but I really don't think it's practical. Ok, back to death.

Everybody dies, sure, but generally only once. On the other hand, everybody shits, like, all the time, all their lives. Babies, teenagers, addicts, soccer moms, models (ok, they might be the one exception here but if they actually ate food instead of Kleenex, they would shit, too), bloggers, George Clooney, JESUS.

EVERYBODY POOPS (just like the book says).

Shitting is truly the Great Equalizer. And so I've developed a fondness for the various poop varieties ("baby mustard", of course, being my favorite, followed closely by "corn fed toddler paste" and, finally, "the kind that doesn't hurt coming out").

Not surprisingly, shit is a common topic in my house. We talk about the where, when and what of our shit over romantic, candle lit dinners. We discuss preferred shitting locations and activities. I struggle to understand the whole "reading material" thing because I never have time to peruse a magazine before my business is expelled, the difference being I don't go sit and hope to shit, I wait until it feels like the poo-tip is exposed, and then I hustle. I think my mother is responsible for my phobia of Sitting Too Long. I remember her saying my intestines could fall out if I "strained". Not something I want to test in my spare time.

Despite our high tolerance for all things excrement, something new happened the other day and I'm still a little bit disturbed by it.

I forgot to flush.

And then Gray came home, loaded up on Call Of Duty manuals, and headed into the bathroom for his daily Waiting Game. And then I heard him cry, "EEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYWWWWWWWW-UH!"

He claims it was funny. He says he still loves me.

But my Taboo Anal Pleasures 8.0 has mysteriously disappeared, and in its place is a religious tract about abstinence and a tub of baby wipes.