Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Tuesday, March 20, 2007 Crap Reviews
In his childhood memoir The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, Bill Bryson talks about asking his teacher for a bathroom pass and being asked whether he has to go "number one or number two." Little Billy responded, "I don't know, but I gotta do a big BM. It might even be a four or a five." He got in a bit of trouble for that.
Sometimes, after I've been in the facilities for a while, Trash might ask me, "How was it?" She means it mockingly, of course, but it always backfires. That's because there is no possible answer that won't completely gross her out. And I know, because I've tried them all:
"Almost as good as the entire book I read while I was in there."
"Honestly, I'm kind of regretting opting for the extra-hot salsa the other day."
"Let's just say I'm glad we don't have a low-flow toilet."
"A little rushed, and therefore kind of unsatisfying."
"Not my best work, frankly."
"Do you mean like on a scale of one to ten, one being a couple of bald M&Ms and ten being maternity leave?"
"Really just a prelude or preamble to a longer-format piece that I'm planning for later. An overture, if you will."
"Early caramel undertones, but with a woody finish."
"Once the initial urgency passed, I was able to really hit my stride in the middle stretch, ultimately reaching new levels of self-expression."
"Go see for yourself. It's quite a pliable medium if you have the proper diet."
"For a second there I think I levitated."
And then she abruptly ends the conversation. I don't know, I'm getting mixed signals here.
Labels: scatologyposted by M. Giant 8:08 PM 5 comments
Yay, poo humor! Seriously, that post made me laugh. Thanks. :-)
I hope I never hit an age where poop is not hysterical. :)
My husband is the master at horrifying poop description... he once described his...ummm... transaction as an "inverted cadbury egg". *Shiver*
Aww, poor Trash. My SO does not take joy in poop so much as he does farts. Nice, quiet, smelly ones right when he knows I'm going to pass into striking zone. I think it's his way of trying to get me to stop serving him so many vegetables.
You're lucky. Sometimes I think my job is going to ruin the fun of poop for me, forever.