If talking/reading about any of the following is not appealing to you, you should skip this post: poop, relationships, intimacy.
This is probably the most enigmatic realization I’ve come to: pooping brings people together. (HAH “brings people together” – GUYS! I FOUND A SOLUTION FOR WORLD PEACE!!! Too bad someone already wrote the book “Everyone poops”. Shit. Haha… “shit”!) <– I think I’m funny.
But it’s true.
I know, I know, right now you’re all in awe of my intelligence and capability of thinking about such matters of great importance, but try to keep up with me mmkay?
I know this is true because:
1) I can tell my friend I’m on the shitter when we’re chatting. We’ve ALL done this (riiight?), but you can only inform those you’re especially close to.
2) I can be talking on the phone and then take the conversation with me to the bathroom…without having to hide the flush at the end… or the motivational soundtrack that accompany the deed.
3) Besides family you can’t just poop in front of just any Ram, Shaym, or BamDev (Tom, Dick, and Harry to readers in the West). (I mean, my mom used to wipe my butt… what? It’s true. And she wiped your’s too. Your mom, not mine. My mom wiping your butt would be weird, unless you’re my sister, in which case my mom is her mom too…so it’s cool).
ANYWAYS. My sister used to say she gauges her friendship based on whether she can fart in front of someone or not, which I find valid. But my version of this is something like: I know it’s love when poop comes up.
The list I’ve made which alludes to real life situations all point to evidence of many extremely close friendships I have, but this grave matter of defecation is taken to whole new heights when the Valentine’s Day kind-of-love in involved.
The manfriend has been sick and without going into details of the illness, let me just say he’s been spending a fair amount of time in the meditation room. The last few days my “Good morning sunshine!” text messages to him have read “Gimme poop updates!”
Earlier tonight, we had a short conversation while he was relaxing his bowels and then the conversation moved to texts. A word for word exchange follows:
Manfriend: Still here going for the 5th grand slam
Me: Is it weird that this makes me love you more? Because it does. LOOOOOVE LOOOOVE LOOOOOOOOOVE.
Yes, dear friends and readers, I believe I am in love…and poop has a stinkin’ lot to do with it!
(Also… if you thought this post was TMI, I did warn you AND for the record, there exists such relationships where there is no such thing as TMI. For instance, my friend is just as happy to hear about my menstrual flow as I am to talk about it.)
This is real life kidZ (with a capital ‘z’). Real. Life.
P.S. – if you thought this was a shitty post, I’d have to agree. (sniggers)
P.P.S. -I love/hate days when I think I’m funny but I know no one else agrees.
P.P.S. – anyone else think I should stop writing and just go to sleep? yeah… me too.
A couple more points being they’re related and the amount of “P’s” I have to type is getting ridiculous:
1) I don’t understand girls who would rather die than have boyfriends know they fart/pee/poop
2) I once dated a guy who didn’t want to believe girls (let alone I) farted/pooped, I came up with the ULTIMATE shut down: “Yeah? Your mom poops”. oh yeah. double whammy.
3) I fully intend to grow up and ALWAYS find potty humor hilarious… that or I’ll never grow up.
4) It’d be cool if you ate enough skittles and then you could poop the rainbow.
5) It’d be even better if the said rainbow poop came with a pot of gold at the end.
6)…then I guess you’d be shitting bricks… gold bricks…
7) For your sake and my own, I’m going to end this post now.
8) I think it’s too late though, I fear I’ve already lost most of my readership.
9) That… OR.. I just filtered out people I wouldn’t want to be friends with… and if you’re still reading this, YOU ARE COOL IN MY BOOK.
10).. though you’d be a lot cooler (in my book) if you left a comment, because let’s face it – I have days where my self worth is based on the amount of hits my blog gets, and getting comments would be like MEGA HIGH SELF ESTEEM DAY… so if you can’t afford to support a child (or don’t because you don’t like kids… which is okay because I don’t like kids either) at least leave a comment because you’ve made if this fart. (<- EPIC UNINTENTIONAL TYPO I’M NOT GOING TO EDIT. I clearly meant “far”)
11) Congratulations for seeing the actual end of this post.