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I’m going to talk about a topic that some consider a little “taboo”.  I’m just going to lay it out there and tell it like it is.  I am sick of tiptoeing around this silly little subject.  Enough is enough.

Why is it that men can poop like clockwork, and women can’t?  The Blond BFF and the Brunette BFF, I KNOW are with me on this.  I don’t get it!  Men get up, sit on the pot for 45 minutes, drop the Browns off at the Super Bowl go about there morning, visiting the commode again after lunch to drop off a stinkpickle, then again by unleashing the chocolate terrorists after dinner.  Seriously, three times a day?  Are you kidding me?  I can’t remember the last time I took a daily doodie, much less three times in a day.  One other thing, why the hell does it take so long?  When I do go, I get in there and get out.  Minute thirty tops.  Why do they go in with a magazine and then come out 45 minutes later with loose pants, deadly fumes, and a stupid smile across their face?!?  I’m sorry, but I don’t have any desire to sit in my own pew and read.  

And the comments that come out of the mouths of babes, or er men...

“That was a three pounder...”

“Double-flusher”

“Don’t go in there for about forty...forty-five minutes...”

“That one was so big, it deserves a name!”

Why?  Why do you need to talk about it?  I don’t need to hear about what you did in there.  I don’t need a description.  I don’t need to hear gloating about what you can do that I can’t.  Don’t rub it in.  Just do your deed and get out.  

I will also throw in there, it doesn’t matter how old.  This starts early.  Clockwork.  Little Man, from the age of six, would come home from school, sit on the potty and do a little stinky turd.  Know what the first thing he does when he comes home from school at the age of 12?    

I have tried many different ways to have at least a daily stinker, and I get nothing.  I have tried drinking 84 gallons of water a day.  I have tried eating an apple every day.  I have tried eating foods with high fiber.  I have even tried adding a spoonful of Metamucil to my morning orange juice.  The worst thing I have ever tried (thanks to the Brunette BFF) was this:

Women if you haven’t tried this, I have three words for you.

Oh hells, no.    

Don’t do it.  Don’t even THINK about doing it. You know what these should be called?  GAS bars.  The only things these stupid little tasty treats do, is make you fart...A LOT.  The ONLY good thing I got out of these bars, is FINALLY I am able to make the Chief put his shirt over HIS face (instead of the other way around).

While we are on this topic... What is the fascination with farting in boys?  I understand we all have to do this.  It is a normal thing...like pooping.  What I don’t understand is why we think, or men think, it is so stinking funny (no punt intended).  As a child, I remember my mom telling other women how my dad did it and then forced the covers up over her head so she had no choice but to take a breath.  I also remember, from a very young age, my dad doing it and then chuckling afterwards.  If it was a place that was inappropriate, he would simply let it slide out.  Instead of bursting out in laughter, he would do the silent laughter.  The one where you knew he did a bad one because his whole body was trembling with his skill of “silent laughter”.  If we were in a store, and I was walking next to him, he would let one out and then turn to me and yell my name out.  Onlookers would turn and stare at me with disgust.  Now 20 years later, I have a husband and son, that do the same thing.  What is so funny about farting?  I don’t think a man is capable of passing gas without following it with laughter.  They are so proud, as if they have accomplished curing cancer.

Well, I feel better.  Glad I got this out on the table.  I don’t have daily doodies.  The Chief; however, has enough for the both of us.  Lucky bastard.  


Saw the below video the other day and had to add it to this blog...  No comment.