Jul 8, 2005

Tales of Woe and Poo

I figure that with a title like that, no-one could possibly resist reading today's entry.

The problem being, I'm not sure where I want to go with it. No pun intended.

See, I was mildly inspired, and mostly revulsed, by Scaryduck's post this morning about his emergency poo and having to use his shed as a back-up toilet. I don't know that I've ever been lowered to the point of hot-bagging one, and even if I had I don't know that I'd admit to squatting on the side of the westbound lane of the I-10 corridor over a Hefty bag during 5 o'clock traffic. It never happened, and the news crew can back me up on that.

I don't know that I can go any further with this post. I was sitting here, as I usually do, casting the feeble light of my imagination over the uncharted terrain in front of me, wondering which path I might take to the goal of a complete and readable and perhaps even entertaining post, and I had to stop for a trip to the throne. For those of you counting, that's two in an hour and a quarter.

See, if I go on, I'm going to discuss my bowels and their habits in sickening detail, and I don't know that anyone in their right mind wants to hear about that, and anyone NOT in their right mind who DOES want to hear about it doesn't need to be reading this blog, because I've had an internet stalker before, and I ain't crazy about repeating the experience.

As a second vital point, my friends and relatives who read this blog already know way more than they want to about certain aspects of my large intestine and it's subordinate bits and their functions ("He's got the fastest bowels in the South") and I'm certain they don't wish to be re-exposed to that particular subject. There's one person in particular who I know does not have an internet connection and therefore can be dogged mightily without fear of retribution, because he still takes a tremendous amount of glee in the fact that the men's room of the local Office Depot still carries the moniker "Irrelephant's Office." It was called that jokingly when I worked there, which was fine, because there were days when I spent more time in there than on the sales floor, but to have that title stay on months after I've gone, and worse, to have it be called that by employees who have NEVER EVEN MET ME is just a bit much. So, Verticles, be ready. There's an upcoming post all about you, you evil little dwarf.

I'm off to buy one of those big ValuPacks of Immodium.

1 comment:

Vulgar Wizard said...

The fiance once had to poop in a box while working in his bucket truck. LOL!