Friday, January 30, 2009

Pooing before a healthy meal.

Ahh, Saturday morning. A time of relaxation, contemplation and breakfast. Sometimes a little stress accompanying the task of getting everyone out of the house, but worth it knowing a healthy meal will be shoveled into my mouth in a matter of minutes.

One particular Saturday morning found me exiting the door with a log hinting at its exit as well. I shrugged it off, thinking to myself, "Oh, this is nothing, I can hold it." This thought was followed by the usual argument with friends on where to eat because you know someone always has to suggest another, more time-consuming place.

If you know me, then you know I am a fan of efficiency and I tolerate little dissidence in my social circle. I rule with an iron fist and loathe factions to the extent that I would gladly kill for the "greater good." So, under this ideology I chose a very good Mexican breakfast joint a mere 100 yards from my house. It would be the greatest decision of my life.

As soon as I ordered my Juevos Rancheros, I began to get the shakes. Again, I thought to myself, "Oh this will pass, be strong for just a few seconds and wait till after breakfast." Now, I think this thought was a result of my love for efficiency; a subconscious mantra that I have developed in various forms in this blog, "Hold your poo, finish breakfast, poo out this poo with the breakfast you are about to consume."

Before I continue this tale, I also need to point out another factor governing this poo. Although, I poo in public places all the time, I don't like too and I knew this poo would require a fair amount of attention. I did not want to be rushed through any part of the process because of another impatient breakfast eater.

Although, I had the strength to hold my poo through breakfast, I would be burdened with holding my poo through breakfast. Needless to say, I would not enjoy the meal. And let me tell you, this was not an internal dilemma, everyone at the breakfast table was privy to my vocalization of this conflict.

Then a great opportunity was presented to me. Home was not more than a 3 minute walk away. I could go there, poo, and probably return before breakfast arrived. And so, I made the greatest decision of my life. Went home, poo'd a unhealthy poo that required a great deal of wiping and resulted in a great deal of stank. Returned an empty man, without a heavy burden on the mind, and enjoyed a great breakfast.

Peace be with you;

or if you are a religious man,

Obama be with you.

Fiberous poop

My cheeks tighten and I am casually aware of the need to drop a deuce. No rush here, I can already feel that this will be a clean poop. Whistling, i enter the bathroom sanctuary, and see it is all mine. I embrace the cold porcelain with my cheeks and proceed on my own terms.
A large brown snake drops from it's hole. Little moisture is present and that is a very good thing. It is always a burden when the snake sheds some of its skin and leaves remnants around it's hiding place. Not this time, thank god! My poo is dry and my anus lips are moist. I could not ask for a better excretion.
The whole process last no more than then 10 seconds. I reach for toilet paper, but i know I will not need it. I wipe, and my hypothesis is confirmed: no brown kisses for my underwear today! I close my eyes to relish the moment. MMMMMMMMMMM

Tomorrow, if i poo this well, I will not bother to wipe.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

2 cups of Joe

I usually drink two cups of Joe in the morning. I finish the first one, grab the second and like clockwork I take a sip and I immediately have the urge to poo. So, I find the need to finish the second cup before I poo because I don't want to poo and then drink more coffee, thus, triggering a second poo. Usually, that second cup consist of me shaking violently trying to hold my poop and finish that second cup of joe. I will tap dance while chugging large quantities, scalding my throat, all the while nursing a curious prairie dog.
This tap dance is very similar to the one I make when sitting down on the toilet. Every so often I will "angry ant colony" (new term I've developed to describe diarrhea) at work. Unfortunately, the bathroom here can get pretty crowded and because I am such a puritan in every aspect of my life, I keep the angry ants at ease to spare neighbors the carnage. Honestly, there really is no point to this because having to hold diarrhea probably takes a few years off my life and the neighbors can surely see the James Brown type tap dance going on in my stall. Either way, they are alerted to my insecurities and my loose bowels, but still take their time.
Now this has happened so many times that I have to check the bathroom for occupants before committing to a diuretic poo within. What transpires after such an observation is a tortured walk down 4 floors to the 19th floor bathroom. I try and keep my cool and walk casually, for if I sprint, I will disturb the angry ants (I bypass the stairs for the same reason). I curse the elevator under my breath when it's delayed as usual and once I am inside, I curse it out loud for being the slow piece of shit it is (seriously, the elevators at work are motherfuckers).
Once I get to that bathroom, my pants are already half way off and, occasionally, someone may be in there too. Then my James Brown tap dance is accompanied by my James Brown grunts. Yet, the neighbors take their time.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Personified meditation

Hello friends,

Like a doe who plays in the soft grass, I have returned, delicately trotting the boundaries of the human condition. I need milk, so I find my mother's teat. It's engorged with sweet protein. I suck until I am full. I somersault and my spine shivers from the cold dew collecting on my fur.
Suddenly, my sphincter spasms. I quickly grasp it's contents with my diaphragm. I struggle to keep hold of the cliff's edge as I slowly tiptoe to seclusion. So much sweet milk ready to burst from my anus. Ahh, sweet sanctuary. I let go of the cliff's edge:

Falling through the air.
I am a baby deer shitting my milk out.

I slowly prop myself up on my wobbly limbs. I am empty. I look behind and see mother's milk is now brown. Confused, I trot closer. I explore with my cotton candy tongue. Bleh, it's different.

I race back to mother to suckle and replenish.

I am a baby deer shitting my milk out.

baby deer and milk