Thursday, March 06, 2008
Salad shooter
Ang and I have been trying to improve our diet lately, which entails eating out less and eating healthier food at home. Recently I've started making smaller entrees and starting us out with a salad of dark greens, sometimes with tomatoes or walnuts. This sudden up tick in roughage intake seems to have shocked my system, as my grease factor has shot up from an upset Jell-O to a furious 10W-40. Perhaps this isn't all bad because I've been long overdue for a core to door Roto-Root.
Today's morning outlay was the worst (or best?) so far, a top notch wall scraper that took away the paper and the glue behind it. First came a 2 foot long troll arm that shot out like I'd jumped on a tube of toothpaste. I had to stand to keep the tail from browning my balls. Then came the sundae topper, a gigantic, glistening, near-perfect sphere of feces the size of a bocce ball. Its structural integrity was a complete mystery to me, as it looked like something you should see melted on the sidewalk outside of an ice cream shop in August.
In the water surrounding this two-tiered wonder was a swirling vortex of what was quite clearly the undigested veins from spinach, endive, and mustard greens. It looked like a curled up hedgehog pinning down a snake in an eerie skeletal salad. The whole mass was worthy of display at the Walker Art Center. I've already received a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. Expect a showing soon.
Today's morning outlay was the worst (or best?) so far, a top notch wall scraper that took away the paper and the glue behind it. First came a 2 foot long troll arm that shot out like I'd jumped on a tube of toothpaste. I had to stand to keep the tail from browning my balls. Then came the sundae topper, a gigantic, glistening, near-perfect sphere of feces the size of a bocce ball. Its structural integrity was a complete mystery to me, as it looked like something you should see melted on the sidewalk outside of an ice cream shop in August.
In the water surrounding this two-tiered wonder was a swirling vortex of what was quite clearly the undigested veins from spinach, endive, and mustard greens. It looked like a curled up hedgehog pinning down a snake in an eerie skeletal salad. The whole mass was worthy of display at the Walker Art Center. I've already received a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. Expect a showing soon.
Pooping. One of life's greater mysteries and pleasures. Like masturbation, I would like to be paid to tell people not to poop. Then we'll see how much angrier the world gets. I predict that this will prompt a world-wide colon cleanse, and the end of all war as we know it.
You know how sometimes you have to poop, but you can't cause you're busy or not near a bathroom or something and eventually you don't have to poop anymore? How does that work? What happens to the poop?
Muscleyarm, telling people not to poop could kill them. Telling them not to masturbate will just piss them off.
Kevin, that's when the turtle decides to hole up for the night.
have you ever made a fantastic turd and left it in the toilet for Ang to see or even called her into the bathroom before flushing it?
When am I going to learn that this is the wrong site to read after lunch.
Carl, we don't share everything. In fact, despite the constant joking, we do not expose each other to our poops in any way.
We're supposed to want to have sex with each other, so we don't play show-n-tell with our bowel movements, no matter how impressive.
Vivid and poignant. Poetry, just poetry.
Sometimes I want to erase my history file. But then I don't.
Carl, Ang pretty much explained it. Though I do often describe the horrors of my bowel movements to her. Then again, I broadcast that to everyone on the internet, too.
Melissa, if you can't handle the poop after a meal, you'll never be able to handle the poop. Man up.
Ang, you forgot about the time I pooped under your pillow.
Max, I know words. Words about poop.
Andrew, I'll just email you photos next time.